Page 17 of Pucking Grey

“Go, Ryan! Woo!” Madison shouts. I didn’t know she was that into the game that she knows the players by their first name. But when I finally look at the screen, I see Wilder on a jersey, and I feel like a fucking idiot for not knowing that’s her brother. Shit, I start thinking about my last four years on the team. We played together for three of those years. I’m fucking stupid. Ryan Wilder is the China Wall. Goaltender for the NHL Seven Devils. My teeth grind as I look over at Madison. I should’ve put that together sooner. I’m fucking with Ryan’s little sister? Matt has been fucking with Ryan’s little sister? Shit, once he gets a whiff of what’s going on back on campus, he’s not going to like any of this shit.

The game plays, but I scroll on my phone, uninterested in all the tips the guys are taking from it. I’d rather dissect the play on my own rather than a group setting. I don’t care about socializing. Speaking it aloud doesn’t help me learn.

When the first period ends, Madison leaps off the couch and heads towards the stairs. Most of the guys turn their heads to watch her. I count to three slowly and then I head after her.

I knock on the first door on the right. The knob twists and the door opens.

“Come in,” Madison says, walking back to her bed.

I close the door behind me and take a look around. Her room isn’t like the rest of the house. It’s much more comfortable and down to earth, not so perfect.

“What did you want to talk about?” Her eyes fill with curiosity as she sits on her bed. I like giving her the anticipation. She’s waiting patiently as I survey her room. I didn’t ever consider that I would be in her bedroom, invading her space. My eyes halt at the stuffed animal sitting on top of her white dresser. Hell, I recognize this fucking thing. I grab it, recalling Matt and his dumb little gifts he’d show off to the guys that he bought for her.

“You like this thing?” I ask, wondering why she would have anything from Matt sitting around her room.

“Not really, no,” she admits as I toss it to her.

“I know who got it for you,” I remark while she stares at it. “So, what I need to talk to you about.”

Her eyes are hopeful as she puts the stuffed animal to the side. Her blue eyes are beautiful. She’s still in a good mood, and I’m probably about to ruin it.

I say, “I need to know what it is that you are trying to do exactly.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, so I have to just spit it out.

“Are you trying to get back at Matt or get back with Matt?” I ask, staring at the ground. I can’t even look at her face because I never thought I’d have to have a real conversation with her. I thought it would be simple, but the more my thoughts spiral, the more I understand that there’s a clear difference between making Matt belligerent and making her more desirable to him. I want to play the most hostile game there is but not without her compliance.

When I glance at her, she’s chewing on her bottom lip and clutching at the monkey. Then a tear drops and my heart sinks. I freeze, not knowing what to fucking do. I hate when people cry, and I can thank my dad for that trait. I never had a mother around in my younger years, and my dad never let me shed a tear. So, seeing Madison cry after a stupid question, triggers something deep within me, but I hold back my words. I need her to stop. It’s not like she’s hyperventilating yet, but I can’t let it get to that.

“That’s a good question,” she says, her voice deepening as she wipes her tears away. “So, um–“ she chuckles. “Honestly, Greyson. I don’t think Matt even cares.”

I scoff at that bullshit. It’s written all over his face. I bet he fucking cries at night. “He cares,” I assure her.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” she whimpers. “And it makes it hurt so much more.”

Her nose turns red as she sniffles. More tears fall down her cheek. If we were on a touching basis, I would fucking lick them off her cheek and fuck her until she’s crying my name.

“So, you want him back?” I inhale, feeling my fists ball. I need to calm it down, but I fucking hate Matt.

“No,” she says, but even the tone of her voice sounds like a fucking lie. She backpedals. “God, more than anything, Greyson, I wish he didn’t make the video.”

I nod sarcastically as I slowly say, “But he did, so…”

“So,” she begins, and I’m losing all patience. Does she or doesn’t she want him back? It’s a simple fucking question that she’s overthinking. “I want to make him jealous. Yeah, I want to make him feel the way I do.”

I grin because I’m right there with her. Make Matthew Pearson feel the same way he’s made us feel.

She continues, “That’s why I need you to kiss me.”

I run my hands through my hair and sigh.

“Come on, Greyson. Like you haven’t kissed a thousand girls.” She doesn’t say it in a flirty way, but in a tone like I’m expected to just kiss her. Like why wouldn’t I kiss her? Especially because I do it all the time. But no, it’s not that simple. She continues, “I’m no one special. This is all going to be a waste if you won’t touch me.”

“Is that what you want?” I mutter.

She hesitates as I stare at her.

“You want my hands all over you, Maddie?” I ask.

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