Page 14 of Pucking Obsessed

"Will one of you assholes get my brother off of him before we have to spend the night hiding a damn body?" Kirsten yells, her voice harsh and demanding.

Tristan rolls his eyes but doesn’t move a muscle, other than to adjust Winter against him. His hand moves to cup the back of her head, fingers brushing over her long black hair, trailing down her messy French braid, eventually reaching the tiny pink bow at the end. The gesture is protective, almost possessive, and I suddenly understand why people think they’re dating.

Callum laughs, loud and carefree, clearly entertained by Hayden’s rage. “Fine. Keep your panties on, buzzkill.”

Callum grabs Hayden and pulls him off of Dawson, but it’s not easy. Hayden’s not willing to give up the fight that easily. Callum struggles, but ultimately manages to pull himoff. Hayden’s still vibrating with anger as he puts his foot on Dawson’s throat, breathing hard, his entire body tense with rage.

"Fuck," Hayden growls, not crushing Dawson’s windpipe but making sure Dawson knows he could. "If you touch any part of her again for any reason, even if it’s an accident, you won’t have to worry about breathing another fucking day."

The football coach starts walking over, and Kirsten immediately grabs my wrist, guiding me away from the scene. "Let’s just shower at home," she says, her voice light but with an edge. "The professors and coaches around here like to get witness statements every time a scuffle happens, and neither one of us has time for that."

My eyes instinctively flicker back to Hayden, and I catch his gaze. His brown eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me shiver. I can’t deny the pull, the way he makes me feel exposed, like he can see right through me.

Kirsten turns to me, a grin sliding back onto her face. "Hockey game is at six. Winter and I will meet you here at quarter till."

I hesitate. "Oh, um. I don’t think…"

Kirsten cuts me off, her voice suddenly chipper again, the edge of concern completely gone. "What you just saw will be a day in the park if you don’t show up to that game. And I don’t feel like listening to him rant.”

“I’ll see you then,” I say, and that’s when my phone dings. I pull it out of the waistband of my skirt.

"See you tonight, princess."

HAYDEN

The game is just about to start, the buzzing of the crowd vibrates through the arena, the ice cold air biting at my skin as I stand near the boards, waiting for the puck drop. The Kings of Castlebrook in our navy and white, facing off against The St. Charles Spartans in their dark green and white. There’s no real rivalry here, not for us at least. For the fans, sure. But for the players? We don’t give a fuck. It might as well be a damn game of pickup in a parking lot.

I glance over to Tristan. His goalie mask is up, dark eyes scanning the rink, already mentally shutting out the crowd. I swear he only shows up for this shit so he can beat the fuck out of people without getting any side eyes.

“Hey, Vale,” Callum shouts from the bench beside me, “you’ll ruin my game highlights if you let anyone score.”

Tristan gives a single nod but doesn’t look at Callum. Callum laughs and nudges me. “God, he’s such a pain in the ass.”

I chuckle, shifting on my skates because Tristan says the same about him. The Spartans are already lined up, their players getting ready to rush the ice. Everyone’s got their focus on the game, but I don’t want to be here at all. Kirsten was supposed to bring Madison with her, but I haven’t seen anyone except Wintersitting in the front row. I decide to give it a few minutes, because God only knows how long it takes Kirsten to get ready.

The game begins with a rush of players skating hard, sticks slapping against the puck. My body shifts with the movement, the coldness of the rink hitting me like a burst of energy, but I’m still not fully engaged. Not like the crowd expects me to be.

“Nice move, Blackwood,” I shout across the rink, recognizing Ramsey's figure speeding past. He’s Tristan’s cousin on their mothers’ sides of the family and he’s a tech whiz. Ramsey has helped us out of a jam or two over the years and we’ve returned the favor just as often. We’re rivals on the ice, but we have each other’s backs off of it. We play up the banter between us, but it’s all a show.

“Fuck you, Lockwood!” he yells back, flipping me off. The audience eats it up, cheering louder than when Scott Jacobs scores a goal.

I skate back into position, keeping my eyes on the puck as it moves between players. The St. Charles team is good, but they’re predictable. They’ll try to make a move at Tristan soon. They always do, but the only way they score is if he walks off the ice. Which he inevitably will when the ref is on his ass. Tristan refuses to sit in the penalty box for any reason, and it’s hilarious when he just walks off mid-game.

My eyes flicker briefly to the stands, scanning over the crowd. She’s still not here.

“Hey, asshole!” Callum shouts, nudging me again, “Are you planning on playing or are you just gonna stand there?”

I blink, coming back to the present, and skate forward, eyes glued to the puck. I ignore Callum’s laugh and block out the distractions, focusing on the game. If my girl doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to have to go looking for her, which I’ll gladly do.

The whistle blows, the ref calls a penalty on St. Charles for interference. We skate in tight circles near the bench, waiting for the next faceoff, our skates cutting up the ice.

I scan the arena again searching for Madison. The game is in full swing again, but my mind is nowhere near the ice. It’s consumed with thoughts of her and the noises she made when I was kissing her.

“Focus, Lockwood,” Callum says, flicking the puck across the rink to me. I catch it effortlessly, and sling it across the ice to the new guy Riven Kozlov. He’s got a temper to rival Tristan on his worst day so I steer clear of him. I don’t need another reason to have bloody knuckles. I’ve been in my fair share of scuffles lately, and I could see the way Madison flinched when she saw me beating the fuck out of Meyers. Scaring her is my only regret.

Kozlov dives across the ice, taking out two Castlebrook players in the process and uses his stick to sling the puck across the ice and into the net. He’s an absolute psycho and he hates this school with a passion. He’s only been here a few weeks and he’s done everything he can think of to get kicked out, but his father donates too much for that to ever happen.

As I turn to push my way to the other side of the rink, I see Kirsten, but no sign of Madison. My sister’s surrounded by a couple of guys, none of them even glancing her way like she wants them to. I groan inwardly. I told Kirsten to keep an eye on her, and to make sure she came to the game. But clearly, she’s far more interested in whatever guy she can string along for the night.

---