Page 23 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
I stare at the ceiling, trying to decide which is more mortifying. The fact that I just accidentally announced to Liam Murphy that I’ve been creeping on his Instagram, or the fact that I was creeping on his Instagram in the first place.
And underneath the mortification is something worse. Maybe he’ll see my name and reach out to me. Maybe not giving him my last name can’t be his excuse anymore.
I press my palms into my eyes, trying to stop the traitorous thoughts from spiraling out of control. The worst part is that I just hope he notices me.
10
Saturday on the Ice
Cole
I’mworkingonlacingmy skates, going through the ritual that’s been the same since I was twelve, when Liam drops onto the bench across from me.
He’s got his phone in one hand and that particular smirk that means he’s about to share something he thinks is hilarious.
“Guess who was stalking my Instagram last night?” he says.
I raise an eyebrow, not looking up from my skates. “Please tell me this is a rhetorical question and you’re not about to tell me you were stalking some poor girl.”
“Not me doing the stalking.” Liam leans forward with excitement. “The girl from last weekend. Accidentally liked a photo from last year. Total rookie move.”
I chuckle. “So did you message her and call her out on it?”
“Obviously.” His grin gets wider, more self-satisfied. “Told her I knew she couldn’t stay away. She hasn’t replied yet, but she will.”
I glance up at him and notice the faint flush creeping up his neck. Interesting.
“You’re blushing,” I say, deadpan.
Liam scoffs, but the color deepens. “I’m not blushing. It’s the fluorescent lighting in here. Makes everyone look weird.”
“You’re turning the exact shade of our away jerseys.”
A couple of teammates nearby snicker, and Liam flips me off good-naturedly. “Fuck off, Cole. At least I’m getting some action instead of analyzing defensive strategies in my free time.”
“Hey, defensive strategies never let me down.”
“That’s probably the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
We finish getting dressed in comfortable silence, the kind that comes from years of pre-game routines. But I can’t help noticing the way Liam keeps checking his phone, like he’s in love withthis girl I haven’t seen him this excited over anyone. He doesn’t chase, the girls usually do the chasing. This one seems special.
By the time we hit the ice for warm-ups, the arena is about half full, early fans settling into their seats with nachos and beer. I fall into my usual rhythm. Stretching, taking practice shots, scanning the opposing team’s warm-up for weaknesses I can exploit later.
During a lull in the action, I skate past Sirus at center ice.
“How’s Maddie?” I ask casually, like I’m just making conversation.
His face lights up like I’ve just asked about his favorite topic in the world. “Golden. We’re texting constantly. She’s funny, smart, actually listens when I talk instead of just waiting for her turn to speak.” He grins like a kid with a secret stash of candy. “Think I’m gonna marry this girl.”
“Try not to scare her off… with that.”
“Hey, being me got me the first date, didn’t it?”
He has a point, though I’m not sure he’ll be asking me to be a wingman this time. The thought of Harper brings an unexpected flutter of something in my chest. Curiosity, maybe, or anticipation. I’m supposed to be focusing on the game, not thinking about dark hair and the way someone looks when they’re trying not to smile.
The first period passes in a blur of chaos. My line scores early off a beautiful pass from our center, Liam gets the secondary assist, and the crowd noise spikes to that level that makes your blood pump faster. Hockey at this level is part strategy, part instinct, and part pure adrenaline, and tonight all three are clicking.
During a TV timeout in the second period, Liam nudges my shoulder on the bench. “You’re quiet tonight. More than usual, I mean. Thinking about that blind date you went on Friday with Sirus?”
