Page 60 of Puck Prince

“Let go!” I demand again, but the words echo, taking me right back.

Let go.

You’re hurting me.

Don’t touch me!

“Get off of me!” I scream—but just as I do, the crowd roars.

“Bar down! Owen Sharpe scores for the Scythes in an incredible play!” The announcer’s cry echoes over the arena. Everything around me seems to explode in a cacophony of screaming, cheering, and blaring of horns.

It’s too much.

I can’t handle it.

I don’t know where I am.

I don’t know how to get away.

I don’t?—

“Get off of her!” Owen’s voice is the only clear sound. It breaks through the white noise, and my eyes flutter as he materializes in front of me out of absolutely nowhere, climbing over the wall and bounding up the riser steps. In his skates, no less. “I said, get your fucking hands off of her!”

I knew he’d save me.

Owen tears me from the man’s grasp and the entire arena is focused on us.

“So, you are his girl after all. Well, look at that. Hotshot is hot in the head as wel?—”

The man doesn’t even finish his sentence before Owen’s fist collides with his face. People scream, scrambling back as the guy hits the ground. I feel Kennedy behind me, cradling me against her. Everything else is muffled by the deafening ringing in my ears.

I can hear my own heartbeat as I shift from flashbacks ofhisface,hisvoice,hishold on me.

Things I’ve tried to forget.

Things I can’t forget no matter how hard I try.

But as Owen shakes his hand out and walks towards me, I feel the anxiety fade.

I think he’s going to ask if I’m okay. If I’m hurt. But instead, he takes me in his arms and kisses me.

It’s only for a moment.

Only a brush of his lips against mine.

But it’s enough to slow my heart. To calm my nerves.

And it’s enough for the jumbotron to catch every last bit of it.

20

OWEN

Coach pushes a piece of paper across the desk at me.

Atus, I guess. Since Callie is sitting to my right, the heat from her thigh burning through my pants.

I look at the paper.

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