Page 69 of Stick It
I’ve been watching it unfold over the last week—since that night at The Stanley, when I told her she needed to give us a chance. I hadn’t expected her to actually listen. Honestly, I thought she’d keep her distance, keep to her little bubble of steel and solitude.
But she has showed up.
She has tried.
She came out with us after the game, even spent a large portion of the night talking to some of the juniors on the team. She’s made an effort to talk to players after practice. And the cafeteria today? That was a first. Seeing her and Wren walk toward our table took me by surprise. I’d been mid-conversation with Leo and completely lost my train of thought when I caught sight of her moving through the cafeteria, shouldersback, chin up, that same focused intensity she wears on the ice.
Her hair was down for once, the brunette locks loose around her shoulders, and even dressed in simple leggings and a hoodie, with the Converse she’s always sporting, she still managed to pull every inch of my attention.
I hadn’t expected to get pulled so far into her orbit that I didn’t want lunch to end.
Typically, I spend my lunch hour managing egos or helping someone sort out their latest crisis. Or worse, stuck in my own head, running through drills or schedules or everything that could go wrong with this season.
But today was different.
Shemadeit different.
The way she needled me, challenging me with that sharp wit and sharper grin. It got under my skin in the worst way. Or maybe the best.
I hadn’t meant to flirt with her when I’d told her I was capable of a lot more than she knew of. It had just…slipped out.
And the look on her face? Not rejection. Not annoyance.
Surprise. Interest.
A spark that lit up something in me I’ve spent weeks trying to suppress.
And then there was the way she stood her ground with Finn’s puck bunny, not even breaking a sweat. I shouldn’t be surprised—Dylan Carter is nothing if not fierce. She’s relentless on the ice. Of course she’d be the same off it.
She’s going to be a pain in my ass, though.
That much is clear.
I knew it from the moment I came face to face with her in the locker room that first day. But now, after watching her go toe to toe with myself, Kyle, Finn, and now some airbrushed girl with fake lashes and claws? Yeah, I need to keep an eye on her.
And not just on the ice.
All the damn time.
“Bring it in!” Coach’s voice booms from the bench, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Hell, I just wasted the last ten minutes, daydreaming about a fellow teammate instead of finishing my warm-ups.
Shaking my head at myself, I skate toward the group, jaw tight, eyes forward.
Don’t look in her direction,I mentally chastise as I feel her and Jax come to a stop nearby.
I force my focus on Coach as he explains the first drill of practice, nodding along even though I already know it. I’ve known it since I was twelve. That’s the point—repetition, discipline, precision. The structure that keeps everything in line.
The structure that Dylan’s presence is threatening to ruin.
Shedoesn’t follow rules. Not really. She pokes and pushes and questions, and worse—she enjoys it. She enjoys getting under my skin.
And lately, I’ve been letting her.
God knows why. I wouldn’t tolerate the shit she’s pulled from any other player. If any one of them spoke to me the way she has, called bullshit on my decisions, I’d be sending them to skate suicides. But not her.
Dammit, there I go thinking about her again.
