Cocky Puck: A College Sports Romance (Hockey Hearthrobs)

by Vanessa Winters

  “That is lucky for me,” I say. “I’m Sophie. What’s your major?”

  “Accounting. You?”

  “Econ. You must like math.”

  “I do. You must like… economics.”

  I laugh and take a long sip of my beer. “I do.”

  Zack and I continue to talk like this until my beer is empty. He notices my cup and offers to get us both another drink.

  “I’ll come with you,” I say. The kitchen has mostly cleared out as the night is winding down. The keg is easily accessible. Zack fills up my cup, and then his own.

  “Stay here or go back to the dining room?”

  “Here is fine,” I say. “You don’t play hockey, but do you play any other sports?”

  Zack shakes his head. “I played baseball in high school, but I wasn’t good enough to play in college. I was on the club team for a little while. I don’t have time anymore.”

  “That sucks. I feel the same way about marching band. I know it’s nerdy, but I loved it in high school. I tried to stick with it freshman year, but it was too time consuming.”

  “It is nerdy, but I was in marching band too. I played trombone.”

  “Seriously? I played trumpet!”

  Zack grins. “We have so much in common, Sophie. I’m glad I met you.”

  I tell him that I’m glad, too, but my mind wanders back to Matt. What is he doing right now? Did he even notice that I never came back?

  I don’t want to think about what he might be doing with one of those girls I saw him with. Zack is really nice. We don’t have the same easy chemistry that I had with Matt, but we get along well. I wouldn’t mind seeing Zack again.

  A yawn escapes my lips, causing Zack to chuckle. “Maybe you should get home. You seem tired.”

  I chug down my beer, but then yawn again. “I think you’re right. I came here with my roommate and I hate to leave without her, but… I’m exhausted.”

  “Just text her. I can walk you home if you want.”

  “Thanks, that’d be great. It’s like fifteen minutes from here.”

  “I could use the fresh air. Let’s go.”

  Zack walks me home as promised. He doesn’t try to kiss me or come inside. Apparently, good guys do exist.

  “I had fun tonight,” I tell him before he leaves. “Thanks.”

  “Me, too. Maybe we can get together again sometime?”

  “I’d like that.”

  I give Zack my number before going inside. It’s not lost on me that I gave Zack a way to contact me but Matt knows only my name.

  It serves him right. If he wanted to spend time with me, he wouldn’t have been flirting with all those girls. This is for the best. I don’t need Matt.

  If only I actually believed that.

  4

  Matt

  I slide the guards over my skates and walk from the rink towards the locker room. Practice was grueling, and my muscles ache with each step.

  “Harper!”

  I cringe. Coach worked us hard today. Him calling my name can’t be good.

  Travis slaps my back. “Good luck with that.”

  “Give a good speech at my funeral.”

  “No promises.”

  Travis and the rest of our teammates head left to the locker room, but I veer right to our coach’s office. The tile floor is hard to walk on, even with the guards on my blades, but I make do. I started skating when I was four. If I can’t walk on ice skates, I have no business playing goalie for a college team.

  Outside the coach’s office, I stop and look at the glass case holding the team’s trophies and photos. I’m in three of the newspaper clippings. This season, I’m hoping to add a fourth. The only way to get professional teams to notice you is to be loud. The statewide news coverage of our team should help.

  “Get your ass in here, Harper! I don’t got all day.”

  I turn away from the case and enter Coach Thompson’s office. He still has a whistle hanging around his neck, but he changed out of his skates. I wish he’d given me the same option before calling me in here.

  I go through everything that happened in practice today. I don’t remember making any major mistake in the last two hours. Only one person scored on me out of a ton of attempts. There’s no reason coach should be calling me in.

  His face is bright red, but that could be from the cold ice and the screaming he did today. I can’t tell if he’s pissed at me or not.

  Chances are, he’s pissed. You don’t get called into coach’s office unless he’s pissed.

  “Have a seat, Harper.”

  I carefully settle down into the uncomfortable chair that has probably been in this office since the college opened.

  “It’s your last season with the Goats.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s been a great four years. I hate for it to end.”

  Coach pulls out a folder. “Your last three seasons have been more than great. Only six total losses with you in the goal. You’ve impressed me, and you’ve impressed the staff of a few NHL teams.”

  My jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’ve gotten calls about you. The scouts are watching. If you keep playing the way you’ve been playing, you’ll be drafted easily. I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but I wanted you to know how important it is that you keep a clear head this season. There’s a lot riding on it.”

  I jump up from my chair, which is difficult in the skates. “I won’t let you down, Coach. Thank you for letting me know.”

  I practically run to the locker room, but it’s empty when I get there. Most of the guys have class after our Monday morning practice. My schedule is free until this afternoon, so I have nothing to do and no one to celebrate with.

  Scouts are good for the entire team. They may be coming to look at me, but they’ll look at everyone. Our team is fantastic. I guarantee a few of the other guys will get drafted, too.

  I can’t believe this is really happening. Since I first picked up a hockey stick, it’s been my dream to go pro. My parents started taking me to AHL games as a kid and I would tell them constantly that it would be me out on that ice someday. I’ve been to a few NHL games, too, and it’s always the same. I want to be one of them.

  Now, it seems like that dream might come true.

  I shower and change out of my practice jersey and pads and get sneakers on my feet so I can walk easily. I could stay on campus until my class starts in just over an hour, but I’d rather go back to my apartment.

  My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out quickly, nearly dropping it on the sidewalk.

  My heart drops when I see it’s my dad, not Sophie.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  “I have a work meeting on Friday afternoon, so your mom and I can’t make the away game. We’ll be there for the home game on Saturday, though.”

  “Oh. No worries. Do you want to get lunch on Saturday?”

  “If you have time, sure. We can go to the diner.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  We hang up and I tuck my phone back in my pocket. My dad loves to call me for things he could easily text. It is nice that he and my mom come to every game they can. I grew up here in Massachusetts, and my childhood house is less than an hour from campus. If our game is in Mass, Connecticut, New York, or anywhere else in the northeast, my parents are going to be there. Unless, of course, dad has a meeting. I’m pretty sure this is only like the tenth game they’ve missed total in my entire hockey career.

  As I walk to my apartment, I wish the phone call had been from Sophie.

  I laugh out loud. Why would it be? We didn’t exchange numbers. She didn’t even say goodbye before she left.

  She was too busy flirting with that other guy. I’m pretty sure his name is Zack, and he’s friends with one of my teammates.

  I hate him.

  What was the deal with that, anyway? Sophie left to get a drink and never came back. When I searched for her, I found her talking it up with Zack
. She only had one drink in her hand. I was completely forgotten.

  I should be forgetting her. That would be easier to do if we didn’t get along so well. I was ready to ask her out on a real date. What a fool I would’ve been.

  I kick the sidewalk. My next move should be to move on. Sophie’s not interested.

  Yet, I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s been three days with no contact. If she wanted to get in touch with me, she could have. I’m easy to find. Any of my teammates could’ve given her my number. She didn’t want to.

  My phone burns in my pocket. It goes both ways, doesn’t it? I could’ve contacted Sophie as easily as she could’ve contacted me.

  I get to my apartment and head inside, stripping off my coat and leaving it by the door. I love living alone. I can be as messy or clean as I want without worrying about it. There are a few dishes in the sink and some dirty clothes scattered around the place, but I’m mostly organized.

  I fix myself some lunch and scroll through the contacts in my phone. Everyone on the team has Carmen’s number. I’ve never used it. I’ve never had a reason to until now.

  “Hey, Carmen, it’s Matt. I was wondering if I can get Sophie’s number?”

  I send the text before I have a chance to second guess myself. As soon as it’s out into the ether, I throw my phone onto the couch and eat four sandwiches. I burned a lot of calories during practice today and I need to keep up my bulk.

  My eyes keep creeping over to the couch. I can’t see my phone from here. It’s for the best. Carmen is probably in class, anyway. Or she’s going to ignore me because Sophie doesn’t want me to have her number.

  My wall clock says it’s almost time for me to head to class.

  Class. It’s Monday, which means I have an econ class today.

  An econ class I share with Sophie.

  I jump up from my seat at the kitchen table and charge into my room. I need to shower again, properly this time, and change into something more appropriate. Sophie doesn’t want me in my post-practice jeans and a t-shirt.

  If I show up in something fancier, it’ll look suspicious. But the jeans I packed for after practice haven’t been washed in a week. I pick a fresh pair from my drawer and pair it with a long-sleeved raglan shirt that pulls tight across my chest.

  I don’t check myself out in the mirror. That would be next level ridiculous.

  Just changing is stupid. All this for some girl I met once who doesn’t ever want to see me again.

  My phone chimes with a text.

  I walk slowly to the couch and check the message. It’s from Carmen, and all it has is a ten-digit phone number.

  I stare at the text for far too long. I have Sophie’s number. Should I use it?

  I shake my head. Not yet. I’m not convinced she wants me to reach out. I’ll see how things go in class, and then I’ll decide.

  It’s time to leave my apartment, so I grab my backpack and head out the door. The walk to campus is enough to clear my head. I should be focusing on the good news I just got from coach, not some girl.

  This time next year, I could be playing for an AHL team. Of course, I’d love to go right into the NHL, but I’d be happy playing in the minors until they pull me up.

  Coach was right. I don’t need any distractions. I want to go pro, and my opportunity could be knocking soon. I can’t risk missing out on my dream because I fell for some girl after talking for a few hours.

  Sure, making out was great. Going further would’ve been even greater. I even had fun just watching that Disney princess movie with her. That’s how I know I like her. I don’t watch Disney princess movies with just anyone.

  Sophie isn’t in our small lecture hall when I arrive. I’m not sure how she didn’t recognize me at the party considering there are only like twelve people in this class. Then again, it’s not like Sophie pays much attention to anything other than the lecture. I don’t think she has spoken to any of the other students, either.

  “Don’t sit down yet, Mr. Harper,” the professor says. My heart drops. I dodged a bullet with coach. Am I in trouble with my econ professor now?

  “Is everything okay, Dr. Cruise?”

  “Oh, yeah. I decided to put you guys in alphabetical order. I know we’re a month into the semester, but this will make attendance a lot easier.”

  “Oh. Where do I sit, then?”

  He points to a seat on the chart he’s holding. Somehow, fate is on my side, and Sophie is in the seat right next to mine. Apparently, no one in our class has a last name between D and H.

  “Thanks, Dr. Cruise.”

  I take my seat and wait for Sophie to arrive. Is she going to be excited or disappointed to find we’re next to each other now?

  I’m hoping for excited, but I’m leaning towards disappointed. She hasn’t reached out to me since Friday, after all.

  I pull out my notebook and get ready for class. I’ll deal with Sophie when she arrives.

  Turns out, I don’t have long to wait. Just as I’m setting my pen on my desk, Sophie walks in.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t look disappointed.

  She doesn’t exactly look excited, either, though.

  5

  Sophie

  It figured that now that I know Matt exists, I’m going to see him everywhere.

  Sure, we’ve had this class together for a month already, but still. I didn’t notice him until today.

  It doesn’t help that our professor lost his marbles and decided to assign seats a month into the semester. Who does that? I loved my desk in the second row. I could pay attention but also doodle in my notebook without worrying about Dr. Cruise noticing.

  Now what am I supposed to do?

  I can feel Matt on my right. Our eyes met when I walked in, but I haven’t said a word to him. It’s better this way.

  The sight of him with all those girls is enough to keep my focus on Dr. Cruise’s lecture. Matt and I aren’t compatible. At least, not beyond the bedroom.

  My pen hovers over the corner of my notebook. Dr. Cruise’s lecture is interesting, but I can never focus unless I multitask. Will he call me out for drawing pictures?

  I take the risk and start scribbling various shapes in the margins. Dr. Cruise doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care. Thank goodness. Now the only thing I need to worry about is sitting next to Matt for the next three months.

  Graduation can’t come soon enough. I barely know the guy and I already can’t wait to get away from him.

  Students around me start shuffling. Class is nearly over. Dr. Cruise shouts our homework over the noise, and then lets us go.

  I shove my things into my backpack and take off before Matt can talk to me. Not that I think he might. He hasn’t tried to reach out. It’s not like I was sitting by the phone all weekend hoping he asked Carmen for my number, but it would’ve been nice of him to put in some effort. If he did, I might’ve considered giving him another chance.

  The air is cool when I exit the classroom building. I have a break for an hour before my next class starts, so I head to the student union to meet Carmen for a late lunch. It’s our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday tradition.

  I find Carmen sitting at our usual table. She has one class in the morning, but then a long break before her internship, so she usually hangs out and does homework until I get out of econ.

  “Hey, girl. How was class?”

  I blow out a breath. “It was fine, but you won’t believe who I sit next to.”

  “Matt?”

  My eyes widen. “How did you know?”

  Carmen laughs. “Lucky guess. You’re both econ majors. You’ve probably had classes together for four years without noticing.”

  “Yeah, and now I have no choice but to notice. It’s annoying!”

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing. He just sat there. But still. . .”

  “You know, you haven’t stopped talking about him since Friday.”

  “I’ve barely talked about him!” I sputter, but we bot
h know it’s a lie. Carmen and I went for a run on Saturday afternoon, and I told her all about what happened with Matt after we came back to the party. Yesterday, I ranted more about how he was with all those girls.

  “Sophie.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ve talked about him a lot, but stop reading into it.”

  “It’s okay if you like him, Soph.”

  “I don’t like him. Were you not listening when I told you about all those girls?”

  Carmen rolls her eyes. “So what if he had a bunch of girls around him? That’s how life goes.”

  “It’s not that. I get that he’s attractive and a hockey star. Obviously, women are going to pay attention to him. But, I thought we had something, and I was wrong. He was paying as much attention to them as he was to me. More, actually, because he didn’t even look up when I walked away to get us drinks.”

  “You’re reading way more into it than you need to, Soph.”

  “You’re wrong. After Charlie, I have a right to be picky. I’m not going to be with some guy who can be easily swayed.”

  Carmen puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. You deserve the best. If you don’t think Matt is the best, I won’t push it anymore.”

  “Thank you, Carmen. I appreciate your support.”

  She laughs, but bites her lip. “You should know I gave him your number this morning.”

  “You did what?”

  “It was before we had this talk! I assumed you liked him from all the talking you did about him. He texted me and asked for your number, so I gave it to him.”

  I slump down in my chair. “So what you’re saying is, he could’ve texted me all day, but he didn’t.”

  “Well, maybe he knew he’d see you in class so he was waiting?”

  “Then why ask you for my number? He could’ve asked me.”

  “Well, maybe…”

  I hold up my hand. “Forget it, Carmen. This solidifies my position. Matt doesn’t care about me. He probably wanted my number for a booty call. That’s what hockey players do, isn’t it?”