Page 25 of Pucking Obsessed

Even from here, I can see the change in him. His shoulders drop just slightly, the tension in his body melting away as he holds my gaze. The intensity in his eyes sends a flush creeping upmy neck, and I look away quickly, pretending to adjust the hem of my jersey.

I don’t understand how he can be so focused on me. This thing between us is spinning out of control. What I let him…no, what I wanted him to do to me last night under that table could have ended very badly. At any moment, the bottom could drop out, and I need to be prepared.

The buzzer blares, pulling me from my thoughts, and the players take their positions. I glance at the scoreboard as the puck drops, and the game begins with a flurry of movement.

“Let’s go, Castlebrook!” Kirsten yells beside me and it feels like she’s screaming directly in my eardrum. Winter doesn’t make a sound because she’s just staring at Tristan who is guarding the net. Bethany is with us tonight, so that’s been awkward, but I’m doing my best to ignore her. Every time I glance over, she’s watching me.

“Are you okay? You seem dazed.” Kirsten might as well have a megaphone because she’s talking to Winter, but I can hear every word even over the noise in the arena. “You’re not going to bail on the bonfire after the game again, right?”

Winter smiles softly and just nods. I make a mental note to see if she needs to talk or anything when Kirsten and Bethany aren’t around because her eyes are glassy, and she looks as if she hasn’t slept in days.

I focus on the ice, trying to follow the flow of the game. Callum takes control of the puck, weaving between the opposition with sharp, precise movements. His stickhandling is impressive, the puck seems like an extension of him as he skates down the ice, dodging two defenders.

“Come on, Callum!” someone shouts. I watch as he winds up, sending the puck flying toward Hayden, who’s positioned near the goal.

Hayden isn’t paying attention to the puck. His gaze flicks toward me again, just for a second, and it’s enough to throw him off. The puck slides past him, and one of the opposing players snatches it up, skating it down the ice.

That’s when I see who I’m assuming is Hayden’s coach. He’s in a suit with a clipboard and a cellphone. He’s pacing and yelling something that I obviously can’t hear. He shoves the phone in his pocket and rakes his hand through his graying hair before angrily scribbling something on his clipboard. Kirsten mutters under her breath, shaking her head, “I wouldn’t want to be you if they lose tonight. Everyone is going to blame you.”

I would say that I can’t believe she just said that to me, but it’s Kirsten, so I just look away from her and let her go. It’s not worth the fight.

The game picks up speed, the players moving so quickly that it’s hard for me to understand what’s going on. Tristan looks bored out of his mind as the puck moves back and forth near the center of the rink.

Then, as one of the players from the other team skates past him, Tristan casually juts out his hockey stick, tripping the guy in a way that looks almost accidental. The crowd erupts into laughter, and even I can’t help but smile as Tristan leans lazily against the goalpost, completely unfazed like he isn’t aware the cheering is for him. Winter giggles, it’s faint, but I hear it, just as I see a smile break out on his face. It’s brief, just a flash and then he’s stone faced again. He knows she’s watching him and I highly suspect that little stunt was for her amusement.

The puck shifts back toward our side of the ice. One of the other guys gets rocked by one of our players. Kozlov has the puck and he’s headed straight for the other team’s goal. The buzzer sounds and everyone is screaming or booing.

The game resumes quickly as the puck glides across the ice. Callum passes it to Kozlov, who takes off, skating down the rink.Just as the other team lines up to block him, the puck ricochets off a defender’s skate, heading straight toward Castlebrook’s net.

Hayden dives without hesitation, sliding across the ice on his stomach. His stick connects with the puck at the last second, flicking it away from the net and sending it down the rink. He crashes into the goalpost with a loud thud, his body slamming into the boards, but the crowd explodes with cheers.

“Holy shit, I’ve never seen him play like this before,” Kirsten says just as Hayden’s eyes find mine, a lazy grin on his face.

The other team has apparently called a time-out? I have no idea what’s going on, but everything quiets down, but Bethany isn’t happy with nothing exciting going on because I can already tell she’s getting ready to start some shit before the sentence is even out of her mouth.

“Tristan’s staring at you again,” she says, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Should we start placing bets on whether he’s planning to keep pining or if he’ll actually make a move on you? People think you guys are fucking so you might as well. You’re both miserable, maybe it’ll help, sweetie.”

Winter doesn’t even blink. Her expression remains as poised and graceful as ever, her posture perfect as she adjusts the hem of what I assume is Tristan’s hoodie. If the comment bothers her, she doesn’t show it.

Bethany isn’t finished, and I can feel the anger seething inside of me. Winter has been nothing but kind to me, offering to help me get acclimated to Castlebrook when she had no obligation. She’s genuinely nice and Bethany would have no idea what that concept even means. Bethany leans in slightly, her lips curling into a smug smile as she delivers her next jab. “Is the rumor about you two fucking true or…? I mean, trauma does weird shit to people. And I heard you were in a car accident or someth?—”

I hear the game start back up, but I don’t know what comes over me, because I can’t let this go. I’ve spent my entire life minding my own business, keeping my head down, and staying out of other people’s battles. But there’s something about the way Bethany says it, the cruelty laced into every word, that makes something inside of me snap. I’ve been in Winter’s position, just being poked and prodded, and it fucking sucks.

I turn toward Bethany, smiling sweetly, the kind of smile that’s all teeth and no warmth.

“Are you so miserable with your own love life that you have to live vicariously through other people’s?” I ask, my voice as calm as it is cutting, but I make sure that my expression is nothing but mocking. She needs to back the fuck off, and I’m going to make sure that she does. “ Are you writing a Tristan/Winter fanfiction or something? All the invasive questions are giving weird vibes,Beth.”

Kirsten snorts beside me not even trying to defend her supposed best friend of a million years or whatever the bullshit is they tell people. They don’t even really like each other, but no one else is willing to tolerate either of them beyond a surface level. I don’t say that part out loud, but I will if either of them give me a reason.

The color is draining from Bethany’s big dumb head, and that’s the only thing that makes me feel better about this situation. I’ve put her on the spot, and she’s not sure how to get the upper hand.

“I was just…” She starts, raising her eyebrow at me like she thinks she’s going to somehow intimidate me.

“You’re just jealous, and it shows,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders like there’s no room for argument in my statement. “They clearly have a bond no one else could ever understand,” I continue, my tone dripping with mock sincerity. “They’re lucky to have someone who gets them, whether it’sromantic or platonic. And honestly? I’m struggling to figure out how any of this is your business.”

Bethany’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but no words come out.

I pause for dramatic effect, tilting my head slightly as I study her. “If you’re lonely, just say that. Maybe we can put up a flier on campus for you or something. I hear the football boys aren’t at all particular about their dates.”

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