Page 71 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Everyone better steer clear of me. Because the bitch is back, and I don’t plan on letting her protection leave me ever again.

Chapter Forty

Ryder

Ashley had approached me as I walked out of the Conte Forum building, and while I didn’t want to stop, I didn’t want to be a total dick, either. I’d felt like one the past few days enough as it was.

She’d started with “Hey, how’s it going?” and even though I’d said, “Busy,” she didn’t seem to get the hint. I’d just put my body through the most grueling workout I could, and I didn’t have any energy to expel on throwaway conversations.

“So, Saturday night at the Quad was totally crazy. Best party ever!”

My stomach dropped—I’d rather not think about Saturday night and everything that’d happened ever again.

“I saw a whole other side of you.” She placed her hand on my arm and giggled. “You were so drunk and chatty. Were you wicked hung over on Sunday?”

Yes, yes I was. Three days later, and I still felt off. But that was more because who was missing from my life. She had dark hair, tan skin, sexy lips, a killer body, and more smarts and wittiness than this girl had in her little finger.

Which was totally judgmental of me, which I supposed made me the judgmental asshole Lindsay accused me of being.

Parts of Saturday were a little fuzzy, but I had no recollection of Ashley being there, although I wasn’t surprised. She came to most games and parties. I heard once she was the person to go to if you needed someone to do your English papers, but I’d stayed clear of that, and Ashley in general, honestly, although she popped up on campus a lot.

Now that she mentioned being chatty, I did remember talking a lot of shit and giving some over-the-top speeches when I wiped the floor with person after person at beer pong. The numbing effect of the alcohol had worked for a while, and I’d done my best to convince myself I truly was better off finally letting go of all the complications that came along with Lindsay Rivera.

I’d even toyed with grabbing hold of the most attractive girl I could find in the near vicinity and seeing if I could scrub Lindsay from my mind in more effective ways. But even thinking it had made me feel ill, as well as a total hypocritical prick, and that only brought on self-loathing, which brought on more drinking.

My brilliant idea to let go of my self-control and be an idiot for a night had backfired big time. Now I felt more out-of-control than ever.

Guess it was time to admit that my control was a big facade anyway. My dad still pulled the strings, and once I found out about who Lindsay’s mom was and he’d planted that seed of doubt, I’d played out the motions just like he’d wanted.

“Anyway,” Ashley said, reminding me she was still standing there. She leaned in as she flashed me a wide, blindingly white smile, waiting for something I’d never give her—I couldn’t even give it to a girl I was crazy about. “I’m planning to drive to Worcester for the playoff games.”

“Cool.” At this point, that was all I had. But thanks to the fact that Lindsay wouldn’t be in the stands cheering for me, and it was my fault, playing hockey didn’t even appeal to me right now. “Well, I better get to class.”

“Oh, me, too,” she said, but she didn’t let go of my arm. “I know the other night you said that your main focus needs to be on playoffs right now, but I promise I’m not one of those clingy girls.”

Ironic, since she was literally clinging to me. At least even in my drunken state I’d brushed her off. The last thing I needed was another regret about that night.

“Do you remember what I said on Saturday?”

Trepidation tightened my gut. “To be honest, I don’t.”

“I wondered. I told you that if you needed to blow off some steam this week, I’m open anytime…”

I took a large step back, my tongue tripping on a way to respond to that other than “No, thanks.”

She seemed to read it well enough, because disappointment flickered across her face. “Later, Ox.”

“Later.” As I started away, I felt about one foot tall. My gaze automatically went to the newspaper offices, like it did whenever I was in this area of campus. Even when I was back at my apartment, or at the gym, or even on the ice, memories of Lindsay were everywhere I looked. In my bed, her hair splayed out on the pillow; straddling me on the weight bench, giving me mind-blowing kisses; in the audience cheering for me and giving me a touchable reason to play my heart out. Maybe I’d been slightly distracted with her in the stands, but I’d also been genuinely happy, something I couldn’t remember feeling in years.

Without her? Life felt empty. Hollow. Pointless.

I’d nearly called her dozens of times. But I’d thrown her past in her face like an asshole. I didn’t deserve to talk to her. To be with her.

I was just selfish enough to not care. But I was also just selfish enough to hold back so that I wouldn’t have to feel the surge of pain and loss that talking to her and finding out we were really over for good would bring. Not with everything else I had on my plate right now and my teammates depending on me. So I was putting it off until after this week’s game.

Because I was a fucking coward.

…

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