Page 54 of Puck Me Thrice
"No, I haven't."
"You have. Ever since you saw Blake and me ice fishing. What's wrong?"
I should have lied. Should have made up something about game strategy or equipment issues. Instead, my anxiety-riddled brain decided honesty was the best policy.
"I'm worried I'm too complicated for this. That my anxiety and overthinking will eventually be too much. That you'll realize you could have something easier with Blake or Nolan, without having to manage my neuroses."
Mira stared at me for a long moment. Then she stepped into the equipment room and closed the door behind her.
"Come here," she said.
I moved toward her, and she immediately pushed me against the wall with surprising force. Her hands fisted in my shirt, her body pressed against mine, her eyes fierce with something that made my breath catch.
"Listen to me very carefully," she said, her voice low and intense. "I don't want easy. Easy is boring. Easy is Sam telling me what to do and never challenging my thoughts. Easy is pretending to be perfect until you break."
"But—"
"I need your overthinking," she interrupted. "I need your anxiety that matches mine. I need someone who understands what it feels like to lie awake catastrophizing about every possible outcome. Blake grounds me with his steadiness. Nolan challenges me intellectually. But you, Logan—you make me feel less alone in my own head."
Her hands slid up to my face, her thumbs tracing my jaw with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity in her eyes.
"I don't want you to be easy," she said again. "I want you to be you. Complicated and anxious and overthinking everything. Because that's who I fell for."
Then she kissed me.
Not soft and tentative—hard and demanding, taking control in a way that short-circuited every anxious thought in my brain. Her dominance was unexpected and absolutely devastating, her body pinning mine to the wall, her hands tangling in my hair.
I made a sound that was definitely not goalie-appropriate and kissed her back with all the pent-up emotion and desire I'd been suppressing.
"You're mine," she whispered against my lips. "All of you are mine. Blake's steadiness, Nolan's strength, your beautiful complicated brain. I'm not choosing between you—I'm choosing all of you. Got it?"
"Got it," I managed, my voice hoarse.
She kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense. Her hands found the hem of my shirt, sliding underneath to touch bare skin. I was acutely aware that we were in the equipment room, that anyone could walk in, that this was wildly inappropriate.
The door handle rattled.
We sprang apart, both breathing hard, both extremely disheveled. Mira's lips were swollen, my shirt was half-untucked, and we probably looked exactly like what we'd been doing.
The door opened to reveal Coach Williams, who took one look at us and sighed heavily.
"I don't want to know," he said. "But maybe lock the door next time."
He left, closing the door behind him.
Mira and I stared at each other, then burst out laughing—the kind of slightly hysterical laughter that comes from almost being caught doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing.
"We're terrible at discretion," I said.
"The worst," she agreed.
We straightened our clothes and tried to look presentable. I realized the anxiety that had been eating at me since watching Blake and Mira together had transformed into something else—not competition, but recognition that we eachbrought something different to this relationship. Something complementary rather than conflicting.
That evening, I gathered everyone in the living room and presented my research.
"Okay," I said, pulling up my laptop. "I know this seems excessive—"
"It is excessive," Nolan interrupted.
