Page 54 of Exes That Puck
Matt:finally a real party
Dylan: I’ll be there
The same party Payton’s been planning for. The one where she’ll finally make her move on Wolf Boy.
Westley appears in my doorway with coffee, speaking quietly. “FYI, I unlocked the door for her last night. I hope that wasn’t a problem.”
Jealousy flares.Did they talk? Did she say something about me?But I catch it, breathe through it. Two-count in, four-count out.
“Did you talk to her?” I ask.
“No, man.”
I nod. “Thanks for letting her in.”
Later, while Dylan’s at class, I open the counseling tab again. The intake form stares back at me, cursor blinking in the “reason for seeking services” box.
I read the confirmation email.We’ll contact you within 48 hours to schedule.
I update my notes app with new rules:
No surprise texts today.
If party happens, no scenes.
Let her lead contact; respond, don’t chase.
The rink feels like sanctuary when I arrive early for practice. I settle into the film room with my tablet, rewatching penalty kill entries from our last three games. Taking handwritten notes helps me focus—angles, gaps, timing. Concrete things I can control.
Practice flows well until I botch a simple breakout pass, sending the puck directly to the opposing forward in a drill.
“Again,” I call to Coach before he can say anything.
He nods approvingly. “Reset.”
I nail it the second time, crisp pass to Dylan who hits Carter streaking up the middle.
In the locker room, Carter starts his usual chirping about weekend plans. “You bringing anyone Saturday, Wilshire? Your ex?”
I deflect without snapping. “Just focusing on the game for now.”
Dylan catches my eye as we’re packing up. “You good?”
“Good. You bringing your hot personal trainer? You didn’t correct me when I called her ahim.”
He smiles. “Sorry about that. Yeah, I don’t know if I want to bring her around the guys yet.”
I shrug. “Bring her over the house first to warm her up.”
He nods. “Maybe.”
At the diner that evening, I keep my phone face-down through the entire meal. The boys talk about line combinations and upcoming road trips while I actually listen instead of scrolling. Mid-meal, I find myself drafting a text to Kara in my head, “Hope your day’s easy.”
Simple. Neutral. No pressure.
I open her thread, type it out, then save it in my notes instead of sending it.
“Wolf Boy’s gonna be there Saturday,” Scott mentions casually while stealing fries from Carter’s plate. “Payton’s been hyping it on her story all week.”
