Page 96 of Puck Block

Taytum peeks over the edge, and I hold onto her waist so she doesn’t fall. “It’s perfectly stable.”

I snort, and she snaps her eyes to me. I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “Stable enough to withstand some finger-fucking, for sure.”

“You’re terrible,” she hisses.

“And you’re terribly addicting,” I counter.

She looks at me long and hard but pulls away when there’s a cluster of snapping twigs from below. “Get down here, you guys!” Emory shouts.

Taytum tenses. “I’m only coming down if you promise not to threaten to quit hockey to pay for my medication. That’s absurd. You’re the best goalie in your division.”

“I know I am.” Taytum rolls her eyes at her brother’s arrogance. “But fine, you have my word. I’m not quitting. Just get down here before you leave Mom and Dad another medical bill.”

Taytum shouts as she crawls over to the ladder. “Oh, fuck off, Emory. You’re not funny.”

“Ford thinks I’m funny, don’t you?”

Taytum’s raises her perfectly arched eyebrow in a challenge, and I can’t help but show off my straight teeth with a cocky smile. “I admit...that was a good joke.”

The glare I get from Taytum sends me reeling with excitement. I follow after her and Emory as we all head back through the yard and into the house. I grab onto Taytum’s hand at the very last second, before we are met with her parents’ concern, and give it a slight squeeze.

“It’s going to be fine.”

She looks forward, and I stare at the side of her delicate cheek.

“You said you trusted me, so prove it, yeah?”

Our gazes meet in the middle, and I silently beg her to let me in.

She slowly lets go of my hand, but I don’t miss the way her eyes fall to my mouth or the quick nod of her head as we walk into the kitchen.

I’m going to fix this, and then I’m going to make her mine.

The number of times I’ve lain in this exact bed and fantasized about Emory’s sister is something I always said I’d take to my grave, but now that I’ve actually touched her, there is no way I can lie here for another second without having her.

Emory took entirely too long to fall asleep.

I ball up another tissue and throw it at his face, wondering if he’ll stir again or if he’s actually fully asleep.

The little white ball flies through the air and lands on his closed eyelid. I hold my breath and wait to see if he brushes it off his face or if he stays still. My stomach fills with relief when hedoesn’t stir, and I slowly slide out of bed, making my way to his side of the room. There are fourteen crinkly tissues on the floor in between our beds that I quickly brush into one big pile and shove under his.

Mary-Ann will find those eventually and probably think they’re under there from him beating off, which is just an added bonus. I laugh silently and walk over to our closed bedroom door with my blood full of wild anticipation.

After Taytum, Emory, and I made it back into the kitchen where the news was spilled about the Olsons selling their house, my aunt put her foot down and demanded we talk about anythingotherthan Taytum’s diabetes and her parents’ finances.

When I gave her a hug goodbye after dinner, I whispered my gratitude in her ear, and she squeezed me extra tight. But I got a text from her shortly after I laid in bed that I can’t get out of my head.

I know what you’re planning. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but if you’re willing to do it for her, then I was right all along about you two.

The thought makes me tense, but I know as soon as I’m with Taytum, the dread will disappear, and I’ll quickly be reminded of my reason why.

I pause when the door latches behind me. My hands go up like I’ve been caught robbing a bank, but after a few long seconds no one comes to question what I’m doing in the hallway at one in the morning with my heart racing out of my chest.

Her bedroom door is only a few yards away, and I keep my sights set on it, as if it’s going to disappear into thin air. My fingers tremble when I grip the doorknob, and I’m flooded withfear that someone is going to see me sneaking into her room in the middle of the night.

It feels an awful lot like I’m crossing some imaginary line, but I can’t find it in me to care. I also can’t, for the life of me, remember all the reasons it was a bad idea to sleep with my best friend’s sister behind his back.

Not when she’sthisclose to being in my hands again.

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