Page 2 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Laughed!It was sputtered and totally unflattering and I had to quickly rein myself in.

Then he’d guided me over to the table where people were playing flip cup. He tried to get me to join in, but I told him I’d watch. Partway through the game he shot me a grin, and when a returning smile automatically took shape on my lips, I knew I needed to abort before I lost control.

Basically, imagine your celebrity crush, be it Theo James, Jesse Williams, or one of the smoking hot Hemsworth brothers. Now say you meet them in real life and they actually hit on you. That’s the insane, tempting level of attraction I found myself trying to resist, and prolonged exposure would be setting myself up for failure.

Which was why, after that night, I’d stuck with the avoiding-him-completely method so I didn’t have to make a habit of feeling stupid while fleeing a scene. Of course, I didn’t exactly feelnot stupidplaying a one-sided game of hide-and-seek in the freaking library.

I couldn’t help taking one last peek at the guy who’d reduced me to such extreme evasion maneuvers. That crazy-strong attraction flared to life, my neglected hormones screaming for attention, and at the thought of walking away, I felt a tiny ping of loss that shouldn’t be there.

He and I didn’t have anything. I’d made sure to keep it that way.

Whatever interest Ryder Maddoxthinkshe has in me will fade and he’ll move on.

If Blondie is any indication, it’s possible he’s already moved on.

Then again, he didn’t seem to be saying much to her, just standing all stoic in that way he did, with an occasional nod here and there. I recalled the way his sharp gaze had tracked my movements that night at the party, an almost predatory gleam in his eye, and that alone…

My heart quickened.

The last time I let it take control it got broken, so I was referring to my brain from here on out, and it told me that letting Ryder in was a good way to end up hurt again.

Not to mention I so didn’t have time for thinking about hockey players, much less any guys. I had a math crisis on my hands, and if I didn’t find a way to solve it, my plans to get a jump-start on my career this summer were going to be ruined. All my hard work and the contacts I’d used to help me land an internship…everything would slip through my fingers and I’d be totally and utterly screwed.

So I smothered the egotistical former-self voice in my head whispering that if I walked over and interrupted the conversation Blondie was having with Ryder, I could make him forget she was even in the same room. Holding on to my goal of being a different, better person than I used to be, I took advantage of the distraction, forced my now-cramping legs into motion, and darted to the nearest bookshelf, flattening myself against the end like some kind of super spy.

A guy paused his study efforts to cast me a look that conveyed he doubted my mental stability.Yeah, join the club.Apparently a career in espionage was out, so I’d better stick with my original plan. Graduate, complete the summer internship at a newspaper office in New York City, and find a long-term job to support myself. I refused to become my mom, relying on men to support her and then crashing when she didn’t have one who would.

The only thing standing in my way involved numbers, symbols, and theXs andYs that algebra threw into the mix of awful. I preferred myXs andYs sprinkled among several other letters. Words were easy—they were my safe place, especially when I was able to type them out, rearrange, and revise to perfection. Being the editor of theHeightstook up a lot of my afternoons and evenings, but since it was a good step toward a career in publishing, I didn’t mind. But it didn’t leave a lot of extra study time. Usually that wasn’t a problem, but now I was dangerously close to failing my math class.

My mind flashed back to that awful moment earlier today when my professor dropped the bomb that if I didn’t get all my homework turned in, basically ace my next few quizzes,andearn at least a B on the next test and the final, there was no way I was going to pass.

After getting back the second quiz in a row where I’d answered all of zero problems correctly, I’d gone in to see what I could do to raise my grade, but I’d been hoping extra credit and a certain number of Hail Marys would magically do it. Big surprise, being a harbinger of math, the professor didn’t believe in extra credit.

Damn all those numbers, and damn whoever decided to add the alphabet to them. How could you abuse letters that way? It should be illegal.

I reached the final row of bookshelves, checked that the coast was clear, and rushed toward the math tutoring center. Honestly, I’d tried to avoid this because one, I don’t take direction well. I like being in charge and giving the orders. So sue me.

Reasons two and three stood at the front of the room. Brittany and Jeremy were the only tutors available when I wasn’t in class, at the paper, or catching the four or five hours of sleep I managed at night. The one time I’d tried to get help from Jeremy, I was pretty sure he’d spoken Klingon or Elvish, and Brittany hated me times infinity—see, I knew the applicable-to-life math terms. Anyway, she and I had once gone after the same hockey player at the same time. Since I’d relied too heavily on guys’ attention to feel validated back then, I’d been willing to do whatever it took to land Hudson Decker, and she hadn’t, so I won.

But then I got my heart broken, and now I was failing my supposedly basic math class, so I was pretty sure she won in the long run. Really she should be thanking me.

She shot me an icy glare as she gripped the pencil in her hand, intent-to-maim undoubtedly on her mind.Guess I won’t hold my breath for that thank you.

Jeremy glanced her way, then walked over, gently swept her hair off her face, and let his fingers linger on her neck as he talked to her in low, soothing tones. The intimate interaction led me to believe she’d decided to go the safer route and stick with guys on the nerdier and scrawnier side of the spectrum.

Good for her and all, because safe guys were now my type, too—theoretically, anyway, as I hadn’t dated in quite a while. But I digress…

I could only imagine how she’d react to me asking her new tutoring-buddy-with-benefits to work with me for the rest of the semester so I wouldn’t fail my math class. Not that I’d actually understood whatever he attempted to teach me last time anyway.

Clearly this was a mistake.

I’ll…find YouTube tutorials. Or hire a private tutor. With all the money I don’t have. Yeah, that’s a genius plan.

I inwardly groaned because I knew I was going to have to swallow my pride and beg for help. After I refilled my water bottle. With vodka.

I spun around only to catch sight of Ryder making his way toward the tutoring center. Judging from his expression, his mind was somewhere else, but before I could hide again, his arctic blue gaze landed on me and sharpened. I froze in place. Since my body decided to seize up, I steeled my internal resolve so it wouldn’t malfunction as well. Under no circumstances could I let myself fall into conversation with Ryder “Ox” Maddox, number three, D-man, and hotter than should be legal.

Okay, so hockey stats hadn’t magically disappeared from my brain, and when I edited the sports column, I saw them on a regular basis. Some things couldn’t be helped.

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