Page 92 of The Hat Trick

“Vince is one and Brent is two and Matt is three,” she explains like I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Why are you so insistent about me being with them? You know I haven’t spoken to them all day, right?” I don’t tell her that I have heardfromthem, I just haven’t responded. I also wouldn’t tell her the reason I haven’t is because I panicked about my feelings and wanted to see what it would be like to keep my distance for a little bit.

“Because they are hot as fuck, and I see how happy you are. I mean look at us, this gave us a great bonding activity of watching grown men hit a puck and each other.”

I just shake my head and go to the kitchen to grab another spoonful of the mac and cheese we made for dinner because we are classy bitches in this house.

When I return to the couch, Audrey is enthralled by Matt on the screen doing an interview about his two goals of the game. He continues to be his arrogant self while talking to the reporter and the smirk he has on his face has me both rolling my eyes and clenching my thighs when I remember the last time I was with him.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the game?” the reporter asks.

His smirk deepens, “To get a hat trick.”

The reporter giggles and I look over at Audrey. “The fuck is a hat trick?” I ask. That’s a term we haven’t heard before.

“We hope you do, McQuaid, thank you,” the reporter finishes as Matt walks away.

Audrey shrugs while grabbing her phone, probably to look it up. I think about asking the guys but would rather not look stupid. Plus, I’m keeping my distance. Even when I glance at the screen, I do see some texts, and I have to bite back my smile, so Audrey doesn’t give me more shit.

Vince: I hope you’re watching. Baby, is it weird to say I miss you? Because I don’t care if it is. I miss you.

Brent: I think Dumont misses you a little too much, but he might not be the only one.

Matt: I can still taste you, Bunny.

These three, the way they are so different, and yet all have one thing in common.Me.

“A hat trick is when a player gets three goals in one game,” Audrey explains, pulling my attention from my phone and back to her.

“Why is it called that?”

“I guess fans throw hats on the ice when it happens.” She shrugs.

“That’s weird,” I comment. Sports have such weird traditions sometimes.

Audrey starts chuckling to herself, and I look over at her with my eyebrows raised. Maybe she found something funny on Instagram she would like to share with the class. “What?” I ask.

“I know you don’t want me calling the guys your boyfriends or anything, but I’m going to start calling your harem a hat trick since there’s three of them,” she starts laughing even harder and I throw a pillow at her.

“You’re stupid,” I laugh along with her anyway, mostly because this entire situation is ridiculous.

The third period begins, and the whole time I’m waiting on the edge of my seat for Matt to get said hat trick. I can tell how determined he is for it too. It’s usually pretty obvious how much he shit talks during the game—which I have learned is called chirping—but he’s not doing any of that. It’s like the other players don’t exist to him at this moment.

Then, the other team gets a penalty for tripping one of the Dragons players, starting a power play for our guys. They are completely focused as they gain control of the puck and get into a shooting position. Vince slaps the puck over to Matt who lets it fly, just barely missing the goalie’s glove.

The horn sounds, signaling a goal as Audrey and I shoot up out of our seats, screaming and jumping. Matt skates around with his arms raised clearly yelling. Hats fall onto the ice while Matt leads the other guys on his line to fist bump the players on the bench.

“He fucking did it!” I yell out.

The celebration ends as the guys prepare for another play and it takes everything in me not to text him my congratulations. I know I’m probably being stupid, but I don’t care. I want this for myself. I know what I can be like in a relationship, and how much I can lose myself in them. I’ve done it before, and I refuse to do it again.

Another player on the Dragons ends up scoring, along with the other team getting one goal, but Audrey and I have another mini celebration of our own when the guys win and are all hugging the goalie.

“I feel like McQuaid has been a little less…punchy since you started giving him your pu—”

“Audrey!” I start laughing. Obviously, I don’t mind talking about my sex life with her, butstill.

“I’m just saying, I miss him fighting like every single game.”

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