Page 80 of Off-Ice Misconduct
“That only makes me more interested. You haven’t dated anyone in, well, ever. This still the same guy you told us about?”
I had to tell them something since I reappear with hickeys in the same areas. Luke has favorite spots, okay? But I didn’t say we were dating.
“Shhhh, not so loud. I’m not dating anyone. It’s just a repeat hookup, because he’s majorly fucking hot,” I lie badly. That’s not gonna fly with my friends. I don’t chat with hookups.
My heart beats so damn fast as I pray Shep didn’t see any of that conversation. It’s not hard to parse out that I’m talking to someone on the bus.
“Fine,” he says. “Keep your secrets. I just wanna live vicariously through you. After you’ve been with someone for a while, things get stale.”
“You and Huddy okay?”
“We’re … fine. But we’ve been together since first year, and it’s been forever since that … falling-in-love rush.”
None of that sounds good.
“If you need to talk about it, you know I’m here for you, yeah?” I’m dying to see what Luke texts me in response to my flirting, but I’m never gonna be able to check my phone now that Shep’s being a snoopy prick, and now I’m worried. I thought Shep and Hudson were a sure thing.
“Thanks, man. I will, but I’ve already been talking to my older sister about it a bit. She says it’s normal for relationships to have ups and downs like this. It’ll blow over.”
“I hope so. I already have my doubts about love. If you two don’t make it, there’s no hope for guys like me.”
“Not true. You’re pretty hot and heavy with mystery guy.”
“Shut up.” But I steal a glance at Luke in the stunning suit, all clean lines and lethal calm, and something shifts in my chest.
He’s mine—I think. My throat tightens anyway. Is this that falling-in-love rush Shep’s talking about?
Fuck, is there any way to stop it?
Maybe … maybe for once, I don’t want to.
“You have it bad, McKinnon,” Shep murmurs in my ear to be a dick. I haul off and punch him in the arm so hard it gives him dead arm.
All with a smile on my face.
We’re a full period and a half into this game, and I’m over it.
Portland’s the most boring ass team in the league. Hardly any fights, no pushback. Just us skating around them like they’repylons. Scoring goals is fun and shit, but I like a challenge. Something to sink my teeth into.
So—and I will never admit this out loud—North Point might be my favorite team to play, because they’re almost as good as us.
“Change,” Coach shouts, and thank the hockey gods for that. I need to be out there.
Luke behind the bench isn’t quite what I thought it would be. At first, it was. He paced the bench like a caged animal, barking orders like a drill sergeant in that deep, rough voice of his that makes my knees weak. I was seconds away from punching out one of my teammates for the way they were lusting over him.
But that intensity? It fizzled.
Coach got on my ass, snapping me back to focus, reminding me that every game counts toward the team’s future. Right. Donors, interested fans, and all that. Then finally—finally—I got into it good with Portland’s right defense. Helmets flew. Got a nice, bleeding gash across my eyebrow.
And I waited for it. The look, a growl, his “what the fuck were you thinking” snarl.
But there was nothing.
Luke went still. Jaw locked, eyes cold, hands laced behind his back.
And I dunno. Maybe I expected him to rip me out of the first aid guy’s hands and tape me up himself. Unrealistic? Yeah, but I wantedsomething.
But again, nothing.
