Page 7 of Puck Block

My fingers fiddle with one another in my lap, and I remain silent. Last summer, the doctors said my body was resilient for keeping up with the demands of insulin production for as long as it did, but all I want is to go back to before–when I wasn’t under everybody’s watchful eye, and constantly worrying about my sugar levels, and secretly injecting insulin into my body.

I thought it would get better when I came back to Bexley U this fall and could figure out how to live with this disease on my own, but I still find myself full of frustration and dissatisfaction. Everyone is just as concerned as they were before, and Emory and Ford’s reins have only gotten tighter. They view me as their helpless little sister, creating some gigantic protective bubble around me that they love to inflate. I swear they get off on shunning me from parties and directing any potential guy to the blonde across the room instead, because they think I don’t need the distraction right now with everything else going on.

I grit my teeth at the thought of what they used to do in high school when I had a date. And for what reason back then? Did they think a little kissing or dick was going to kill me?

Someone clears their throat, and I snap back to reality. Ford’s blue eyes flare when he gestures behind him. I look at the monitor and see my pulse rising. He has somehow silenced the volume, and Dr. McCarthy is too involved in the conversation with my parents to notice.

“Calm down,” Ford mouths.

I glare at him because, as always, he’s trying to come to my rescue. I don’t care if it’s needed at the moment or that I follow his hand movements regardless. He puts up one finger at a time for me to count, and I do it, despite my annoyance.One, two, three, four…

“There you go,” he whispers. “You know the drill, Heartbreaker.” He grins, and I hate that my first instinct is to smile. The nickname started in high school, when I learned how to get around my brother’s and Ford’s tactics of scaring off anyone interested in me.

I was the one who broke boys’ hearts. Not the other way around.

Hidden flirting and secret make-out sessions in closets at parties that always led to nothing, leaving each and every horny teenage boy with a broken heart full of hope.

Guys always want what they can’t have, and even though, most of the time, I wanted them too, I knew it’d never fly. It only attracted them more.

“Well, that does it, then.” Dr. McCarthy is suddenly standing at the end of my bed. “I’ll have a nurse draw up the discharge papers, and I’ll send the script to the pharmacy. I want access to your glucose levels at our next appointment and then we will go from there.”

Dr. McCarthy gives me zero chance for rebuttal.

As soon as he leaves, Ford steps forward and smiles.

“Your chauffeurs are here and at your service, Heartbreaker. And we expect a tip.”

I roll my eyes and wonder how expensive it would be to hire my own personal driver instead.

[ 4 ]

FORD

The Velcroof my bowtie draws my teammates’ attention over to me, which I’ll admit, I enjoy. Theo stares at me from across the locker room in nothing but a towel.

“What?” I say.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

I pull the white glove onto my hand and wiggle my fingers before leaning down into my locker and pulling the chauffeur’s hat out of my bag and placing it on my damp hair.

“For fuck’s sake,” Emory mumbles, coming to a complete stop. “You’re ridiculous.”

I grin while running my hands over my black suit. “You don’t think Taytum will appreciate it?”

I know for a fact she’s going to be beyond irritated with me, which is the only reason I ordered the costume in the first place. In fact, we weren’t even out of the hospital yet, and I already had it on the way.

Emory snorts. “I think she’s going to punch you in the face.”

I grab my bag. “She will threaten it, as always, but she wouldn’t dare touch this masterpiece.”

The number of threats I’ve gotten from Taytum over the years is enough to fill every page of a textbook. They no longer faze me, just like it doesn’t faze me when guys try to take her into one of the bedrooms at a party and I have to step in and threaten to cut their hands off.

When I pull up to the sorority house, I catch a glimpse into the window, expecting to see Taytum, but instead, I’m met with a cluster of freshies with flushed faces. I chuckle and step out of my car. They duck, as if I didn’t just make eye contact with them, and I laugh under my breath while making my way to the porch. The front door opens, and it takes Taytum all of three seconds to slam it in my face.

“Ma’am, I heard you called for a driver!” I shout through the door.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” she calls from the other side. There’s a hint of humor in her voice, and I hate that I crave the sound of her laugh.

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