Page 19 of They All Puck Me

As the rain clears up completely, we start walking back towards her car. The ground is wet and slippery, but we take our time, neither of us in a hurry to end this moment.

When we reach her car, she turns to face me, holding out my jacket with a reluctant smile. "I should probably give this back."

"Keep it," I say quickly.

Her smile widens just a fraction. "Alright then."

I take a step back, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching out and pulling her close again. "Drive safe."

"You too," she replies softly.

As she gets into her car and drives away, I'm left standing there in the fading light, feeling an odd sense of emptiness where moments ago there was warmth and connection.

The reluctant goodbye hangs heavy in the air as I turn and head back towards my own car, my thoughts of her swirling in my mind like leaves caught in a gust of wind.

Driving home, the rhythmic thrum of the engine barely distracts me from the turmoil in my head. Olivia’s smile keeps flashing through my mind, her laugh ringing in my ears. I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening as I wrestle with the conflicting emotions.

Liam’s interested in her. I know that. Hell, anyone with eyes could see it. And Liam's my best friend. But damn it if Olivia doesn’t make it hard to think straight.

I turn on the radio, hoping some music will drown out my thoughts. Classic rock blares through the speakers—Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” Usually, this song would get me pumped, but tonight it only adds to the noise in my head.

“You gotta step back,” I mutter to myself, glancing at my reflection in the rearview mirror. “She’s off-limits.”

But every time I resolve to step back, her smile comes back into focus. It’s like a magnetic force pulling me in, no matter how much I try to resist.

8

ETHAN

The rink's almost empty, the only sound my skates cutting through the ice. That's the way I like it. No distractions. I stay late, working on integrating with team plays. I shoot puck after puck, feeling the weight of every mistake I've made since joining this team. Each shot's an attempt to bury my frustration.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Turning, I see Olivia standing by the boards, her notebook in one hand and her other hand on her hip.

"Late night practice?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Need something?" I counter, ignoring her question. The last thing I need is someone witnessing my struggle.

"No," she says, holding up her phone. "Just left this in the press area. I suppose my memory skills are about as poor as my ability to avoid running into people."

I fight the grin that threatens across my face. I skate over to the boards, resting my stick against the edge. "And you've just decided to stick around and watch me fail at team drills while you're here?"

Her eyes narrow slightly but there's a hint of amusement there. "Failing? Looked like you were just warming up."

"Funny," I say, not really feeling it. "Didn't realize you were a comedian too."

She leans against the boards, watching me closely. "You always this charming?"

I shrug, turning away and shooting another puck into the net. "Only when I'm being interrupted."

"Touchy," she says softly but doesn't move away. Instead, she continues watching me like she's trying to figure me out.

After a moment of silence, she speaks again.

I lean on my stick, eyes narrowing at Olivia. “You really want to see some drills?”

She nods, a spark of interest lighting up her green eyes. “Absolutely. Readers love that behind-the-scenes shit.”

I sigh, more for effect than anything. “Fine. But don’t expect a show.”

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