Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots)

by Madsen, Cindi

  She covered her food with a dramatic “No!”

  “Sorry.” I righted the bottle and held it out to her. “Do you have a thing about pouring your own ketchup?”

  “I have a thing about not putting disgusting ketchup on my food so I can actually eat it.”

  “You don’t like ketchup?” I knew she’d just said as much, but in my family, we put ketchup on our ketchup. My roommates turned up their noses when I put it on my eggs, and I could sort of understand that, but burgers and fries? How did you eat those without ketchup?

  She wrinkled her cute little nose and used her pointer finger to push the bottle back toward me. “It’s gross.”

  “First math, then ketchup. I’m not sure how I feel about this.” I studied her and gave a dramatic sigh. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well, I’m having my doubts about you, too.”

  “Maybe if you started eating ketchup, you’d find that math suddenly made perfect sense.”

  “Pass.”

  I swiped a handful of fries through my ketchup and then made a big show of how much I enjoyed it. Lindsay scooted her plate farther from mine and I laughed.

  After eating the bulk of our food, we hit the books again.

  As she worked out a problem, I put my arm on the back of the booth and got lost in the way she wrinkled her eyebrows and bit her lip. Man, she was sexy. I was good at math and all, but if our situations were reversed and she were trying to teach me…pretty much any subject, I’d never be able to focus on anything but those lips.

  Over the past few months I’d felt this void in my life. I couldn’t exactly explain it. I had my position on the hockey team, my classes were going well, and I liked my roommates even though they were occasionally idiots—especially when it came to girls—but there was just something missing. Maybe that was why I’d set my sights on Lindsay so hard after one night where, honestly, all she’d done was glare at us and threaten to call the cops.

  Right when I’d decided it was time to give up on anything ever happening between us, we’d spent that hour together the other night. Even the whispering of the connection made me want more. I wasn’t much of a talker, but I wanted to talk to her, even though it intimidated the hell out of me. Half of what I’d achieved was because I didn’t let a little thing like common sense get in my way, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  “Ox.” She snapped her fingers in my face, literally snapping me out of it. “You’re kind of staring.”

  “I’d say admiring, but…”

  Pink crept across her cheeks. So her fight-or-flight response wouldn’t kick in, I leaned over and studied the problem she’d completed.

  She pointed the tip of her pencil at the solution she’d scribbled down. “Is it right?”

  I nodded and she grinned, and that triumphant smile hit me right in the gut.

  Movement caught my attention and Kowalski and Megan slowly approached. “Hey, I don’t know if you guys are into Shakespeare,” Megan said, “but Dane and I were about to head over to Babson. The same troupe who does Shakespeare in the Commons is doing a few showings there right now to prepare for summer.”

  Lindsay’s automatic refusal was written across her features, and while I was far from into Shakespeare, disappointment rose up.

  But then Megan added, “They’re doing Twelfth Night.”

  A light hit Lindsay’s eye—longing if I had to guess. Time to slam my way through that tiny opening.

  “Yeah, that sounds like fun.” I covered Lindsay’s hand with mine. “Watch me impress you with my psychic skills…” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “I sense that you like that play. And that while you’re thinking of how much stuff you need to get done, going might prove to me that you don’t actually have a grudge against fun.”

  Lindsay tilted her head and gave me a saucy look that only made my heart beat harder. “I think you’re overestimating how much I care about proving stuff to you.”

  “It’s also free,” Megan added. “And I could use another girl along. Dane’s willing to try these Boston outings with me, but sometimes he doesn’t fully appreciate really good music or things like Shakespeare.”

  “Oh, we’re taking my car, and I’m playing my music,” Dane said. “That’s part of the deal.”

  While they started arguing about the merits of One Direction, and Megan said something about how he’d made a promise he couldn’t simply go back on because he didn’t realize she’d take him up on it, I turned to Lindsay.

  “I’m down for trying something new. And I think they might kick you out of the English program if you refuse to attend a Shakespeare play. Is that a risk you really want to take?”

  Lindsay ran a hand through her hair and then toyed with the ends. “I do have a thing for the Bard. Especially Twelfth Night. It’s my favorite play of his, and I heard that company is amazing. It’s actually been on my bucket list of things to do here, but the shows always happen when I’m back home for the summer.”

  “That settles it. We did the math, and now it’s time for a fun outing, as per our arrangement.” I closed her textbook then scooped it and her notebook up. I stood and extended my hand. For a moment I thought she’d leave me hanging, but then she slapped her palm in mine.

  I tugged her to me and shot her a big grin. “Shakespeare here we come.”

  Chapter Six

  Lindsay

  Confession #4: Besides hockey players, classic literature is one of my weaknesses.

  *side note: some people assume puck bunnies, former or not, are vapid girls who only care about landing a player, but few people are that one-dimensional.

  I’ve always maintained a high GPA, always worked hard. I didn’t get to be the editor of the college paper by sitting on my butt and going from party to party.

  Which I suppose isn’t so much a confession, but more of clearing up misconceptions.

  Since literature never let me down the way people had, I decided that it’d be okay to drop my guard—just a little—to be spontaneous and join Ryder, Dane, and Megan on their outing. Because it was Twelfth freaking Night, performed by a company who dedicated themselves to Shakespeare, and Ryder and I had a business arrangement that included fun outings.

  Of course I hadn’t taken into account how small the seats in the theater would be. They could hardly contain a guy Ryder’s size, meaning his thigh was flush with mine, and his big hand was draped on our shared armrest, just begging to be grabbed.

  Even back in the day when I was better at the flirting thing, I’d never been a hand holder, so I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t stop imagining what it’d feel like to slide my hand into his. This close I got a whiff of the soapy scent plus cedar and mint combo I’d noticed in the diner when he helped me with my homework. He smelled like a freshly scrubbed lumberjack, and I wanted to take a taste. Just a tiny one.

  Oh, Lindsay, how’d you let yourself get into this position again? The curtain rose, and as the familiar story played out onstage, I remembered—I’d been under the influence of literature.

  During my childhood, I’d often escaped into stories. Every time I had to meet a new temporary and unofficial stepdad. Each time I moved and started over as the loner kid in school. No matter how foreign and uncomfortable my physical address, I found a home in fictional worlds. The characters inside the pages didn’t judge me, the endings were almost always happy, and if they weren’t, they left my heart ripped out in a way I craved to repeat, as illogical as that was.

  I leaned forward, soaking in the roles the actors played perfectly.

  At one point, I went to rest my hand on the armrest, only to find Ryder’s warm skin instead of cold plastic. Our eyes met, then he turned his palm up and curled those long fingers around mine.

  My heart skipped a couple of beats, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. Not with the intense scene where Viola, dressed as Cesario, is challenged to a duel unfolding in front of us. />
  And maybe it just felt nice to be touched after a long time of keeping my distance from pretty much everyone. I hadn’t meant to isolate myself, but I had, and it felt good to hold Ryder’s hand. To see Dane and Megan cuddling on the other side of him—the way they playfully argued and constantly kissed unleashed an inner longing I tried to pretend no longer existed.

  Ryder leaned in, his hand tightening around mine, and whispered, “Okay, I have no clue what’s going on, and I’m pretty sure they’re talking gibberish. I might need you to tutor me on Shakespeare.”

  During the short intermission, I explained as much as I could. Since I swung my arms around as I explained, I’d let go of his hand, and I told myself it was for the best. I didn’t think very clearly whenever we were touching.

  Here and there throughout the next few scenes I whispered mini explanations to Ryder, careful to not interrupt the performance for the people around us. Which meant being close enough my lips nearly touched his ear, my body pressing against his firm shoulder.

  In the middle of the last act, he reclaimed my hand, and once again, I didn’t have the strength to pull away. Instead I shut my eyes for a moment and soaked in the warmth of his touch and the fluttery sensation in my chest.

  As the play came to a close, I swore his gaze moved to my lips. Holding hands was one thing, but kissing was another, one I couldn’t let happen, no matter how tempting. So I panicked, and with none of the grace I used to possess, jerked my hand away and then tried to cover like I was merely clapping.

  Ryder raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  Okay, if I ever decided to try the dating thing again, I’d need a refresher course in how to be smooth. But I wasn’t going to delude myself that the guy next to me would be a good guy to practice on. That was like flirting with a rattlesnake and then being surprised he bit you.

  I might not mind if Ryder bit me…

  No, bad thoughts. Abort, abort.

  I couldn’t exactly bolt since I’d come with him, and a taxi would set me back about forty dollars that I didn’t have. Ah, gotta love the special moments you get to decide if it was more dangerous to skip eating for a week, or to spend more time with a hockey player who you were struggling to keep only platonic feelings for.

  At least standing and crossing my arms, so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for Ryder, made me feel more in control.

  Attachments are a weakness. Remain in control at all costs. Even if it makes you look like a prude crazy person.

  “Did you like it?” Megan asked as we reached the main, much wider aisle leading to the exit.

  “Yeah, it was amazing,” I said, and I meant it. I was going to make it a goal to attend more events like this in the future. My soul felt fed for the first time in a long time.

  Ryder placed his hand on my upper back, his thumb gently pressing into the base of my neck, and the surge of awareness that shot up my spine nearly made me stumble over my own feet—downside of crossed arms, if you fell, it would definitely be on your face. “I’m just glad I had Lindsay next to me to translate what was going on.”

  “I was mostly impressed by the guys wearing tights,” Dane said, and with a shake of her head, Megan kissed his cheek.

  “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and curled her tighter to him. “And good in the sack?”

  Megan’s cheeks flushed pink but she laughed. “And with that, we’ve officially passed the length of time Dane can pretend to be a proper gentleman. We better get you out of here before you blurt out even more inappropriate things.”

  “You like when I’m inappropriate, admit it.” Dane pushed open the door. After everything that happened with his roommate—the very hockey player who messed me up so badly—I started loathing Dane by association. To be fair, not only him, but the entire hockey team. I supposed it was time to try to let some of my bitterness go, even though it had made a good shield for a while.

  Until the dude with his hand on my back wouldn’t give up on talking to me, and I still couldn’t figure out why.

  The cold air hit me like a slap as we stepped outside. Wishing for my big coat instead of this flimsy jacket, I crossed my arms tighter and focused on my steps as I trailed after Megan and Dane. I didn’t dare glance back at Ryder, despite feeling his hulking presence behind me, because I was in control.

  But when he quickened his steps, opened the car door for me, and said, “Milady,” as he gave a bow, my control fell right to the sidewalk and a giggle broke free. My first impression of him was that he was a silent sentinel type, and his unexpected humor always caught me off guard.

  It also made it impossible to not play along. “Thank you, kind sir.” I slid inside and he scooted in after me. When I shivered, Ryder shrugged off his hoodie and extended it toward me.

  Without it, all he’d have was a thin T-shirt, which was no match for Boston nights, almost spring or not. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure the heater will warm me up.”

  “Well, until then…” He pressed the wadded navy fabric into my hands. “I don’t really get cold anyway.”

  Since my teeth were approaching chattering level, I pulled the hoodie over my jacket. The lingering lumberjack scent and body heat damaged what little control I had left. It took all my willpower to resist sniffing it as I cuddled it tighter to my body. I held up an arm, laughing at the several inches of fabric hanging off.

  “I look ridiculous.”

  Ryder leaned closer, and when he spoke, his breath skated across my neck. “You look hot. Like you always do.”

  The next shiver that racked my body wasn’t from the cold. I really needed to put on the brakes before this—whatever it was between us—grew even more out of control, and make sure lines were firmly drawn and understood by both parties. I didn’t want to do it with Dane and Megan in the car, though, so I decided to lay down some boundaries when we were alone again.

  Until then, would it be so bad to snuggle up next to him and enjoy it?

  But then I’d crave more and more and end up getting burned all over again.

  And this is why I can’t have nice things.

  Ryder slowed in front of my car after I pointed out that it was mine. I told him he didn’t need to walk me to it, but he took the chivalry thing very seriously.

  “So, do we need to meet up for those last few problems or do you think you’ll be okay until your next assignment?” he asked.

  I glanced at him, trying and failing not to notice his strong jawline and how the T-shirt stretched across his chest and showed off his biceps—weirdo didn’t have a single goose bump, either, and I was barely okay in both my jacket and his. “I’m afraid saying that I’m actually starting to understand this stuff will give you a bigger head than you already have.”

  “Oh, I already know that I’m a kick-ass tutor. What’ll really give me a big head is if you admit to having had the tiniest bit of fun tonight.”

  “Then I better not say it.” Even though I’d kept my tone light, a twinge went through my chest. I did have fun. More fun than I’d had in a long time. Which meant it was time to ruin it all before I did something stupid and let myself get caught up in a guy who’d move on once the chase was over. Thinking of other girls holding his hand, snuggling up next to him, and laughing at his jokes sent a toxic swirl through my gut, which was silly. I barely knew him.

  “Look, Ryder—er, Ox.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. You can’t change in the middle.”

  “I can do whatever I want,” I shot back.

  “You can be really difficult.”

  Ugh. Why did I like this guy again?

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he grabbed my hand over the sleeve of his too-long sweatshirt. Despite the layer of the fabric, a zing sang up my arm and settled deep in my chest.

  I swallowed, hoping it’d help shove down that irksome longing drifting up again. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t normally do this.”
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br />   “Have fun?” At my glare, he wiped the smile off his face. “Sorry. No more jokes.”

  “I like the jokes.” More than I should. “You’re different than I expected. But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “So you don’t need help with math?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m not talking about the math part.” I exhaled a white puff of air. “I appreciate your help with my class, and heaven knows I need it if I’m going to pass…”

  Am I really doing this? Saying good-bye to killer chemistry and Thor-worthy biceps?

  “But I don’t date hockey players,” I forced out before my unhelpful thoughts got the best of me and I forgot to lay down much-needed boundaries. “Or do anything resembling that. Anymore. In case you thought maybe I…” I reached up and twisted one of the drawstrings around my finger. “I’m not the same girl I used to be.”

  “I know that you edit the paper, that I like it when you smile and laugh, and that I like you.” His pale-blue eyes locked on to me. “It’s that simple.”

  “But it’s not simple. I’m not looking for a hookup, but that’s not me trying to pressure you into a relationship, because I’m also not looking for anything serious. I have to focus on my classes and the paper, and passing this damn math class that’s trying to kill me. Then I’m moving to New York City for a summer internship that I hope will turn into a full-time job. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, and I’m not going to blow it all now.”

  I didn’t just mean the school or my internship, either. I wasn’t going back to the girl I used to be. I was never jumping back on that emotional rollercoaster where I wasn’t at the controls, getting my validation from all the wrong things—that was why I had to remain strong, no matter how tempting the guy.

  Ryder simply stood there for a moment like he was soaking it in. Just when I didn’t think he was going to verbally respond, he gave one sharp nod. “Got it. Honestly, playoffs are around the corner, and that’s my main focus. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. We can just see what happens.”