Page 11 of Pucking Matt
I step into the elevator, jabbing the lobby button with more force than necessary. “Did you tell him my schedule? And there is no deal. He's just a pain in my ass who can't take a hint.”
“A very hot pain in your ass,” Jen replies, and I can practically hear her grinning through the phone. I wonder if she’s salivating at the mouth over him.
“Not the point,” I mutter.
“I told him your schedule. Saturdays and Tuesdays.”
I huff, “Are you serious, Jen?”
“Come on, Amber. When was the last time you had a little fun with a guy, huh? Went on a date? Flirted. Hell, even checked one out?”
Years.
I roll my eyes, even though she can't see me. “Goodbye, Jen,” I say, ending the call as I step out of the elevator. I don’t have time for her repetitive questions. She thinks I’m leaving parts of the story out, and I’m not. Not really. It’s fairly simple. I don’t fucking like the guy.
As I walk to my car, I can't shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why does Matt want to know my schedule? Please, for the love of humanity, do not make me push himdown another flight of stairs. I’m civilized now, but if he keeps pressing, I’m a fighter. I’m no freeze or flight girl. No, I fight.
I unlock my car, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat. As I slide behind the wheel, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My hair is coming loose from its bun, and there are dark circles under my eyes. I look tired. I am tired.
For a brief moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to not have all this pressure. To not be constantly juggling two jobs and school and trying to prove myself. To just be.
But then I shake my head, pushing the thought away. I've worked too hard to get where I am. I'm not about to let anything – or anyone – distract me from my goals.
I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, leaving thoughts of Matthew Pearson and his stalking in the dust. I have zero time to pay attention to whatever he is doing. His presence in my life is like a buzzing fly that I keep swatting away. No, he’s similar to a mosquito that keeps landing on me and drinking my blood, itching (irking) the hell out of me. But one of these days, I’m going to let it land, let it think it has a chance, and then I’ll fucking smash it’s life away.
Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Chapter 4
The ice beneath my skates feels like home. I glide across the rink, the cold air whipping against my face as I push myself harder, faster. Practice is over, but for me, it's never really done. That's what separates the good from the great, and I'm aiming for legendary.
Harvey slaps my helmet, the sound echoing in the nearly empty arena. “Ready to run those drills?”
I nod. “Let’s do it.”
The rink is quieter now, most of the team having cleared out. It's just us and the ice, the way I like it. No distractions, no bullshit. Just pure, unadulterated hockey.
As we're setting up, Crew Nixon skates back on the ice, his stick tapping a rhythm on the ice. “Mind if I join?”
I exchange a glance with Harvey. More players mean more challenge, and I'm always up for that.
“The more the merrier,” I say, spinning my stick in my hands. “Hope you're ready to get your ass handed to you, Nixon.”
Crew grins, his teeth flashing white.
We're about to start when Crew lifts his stick, waving it like a flag. “Hi, Madlibs.”
Maddie Wilder waves at him with a smile as Grey walks straight to her and lifts her off the ground. My jaw clenches involuntarily, a familiar burn of anger and something else – something I refuse to name – coursing through me.
Crew shrugs at her, but I don’t glance in that direction again. I lost my temper once, and I can’t let it happen again. I can’t tell you if I’m pissed off about not having Maddie or if it’s because Grey has her. Those lines have blurred so heavily that I don’t know the fucking difference anymore. Grey going after someone I’ve dated isn’t a normal occurrence. I don’t think we have the same taste, yet here we are. He has the one and only girl I ever liked enough to date. I liked her enough to not even sleep with her, and that’s saying something. I only fuck, I don’t date. Grey, too. It’s something we have in common, and there’s something about Maddie that made us both wild.
Harvey says to Crew, “What was that about?”
Crew's a stand-up guy, always has been. He doesn't sugarcoat things, which I respect. “She doesn't want me being friends with a cheater,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to me.
I shake my head with a humorless smirk. I saw that one coming a mile away. The wholecheaterlabel is bullshit but try telling that to Maddie.
Crew grabs my shoulder, his grip firm. “Hey, man. We all know you didn't cheat. It's all good. Mads is like my sister. The fucking video was uncalled for, but I told her I can't ignore you. We play together.” He bangs his stick with mine, the sound sharp and clear. “Don't let it bother you.”
