Page 23 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“Good.” He leans back, looking satisfied with himself. “Now, let’s enjoy breakfast.”

I stare at him for a moment, wondering if he even knows what the word “enjoy” means.

Practice that afternoon is brutal. Caleb and I hit the ice, running drills and pushing ourselves harder than usual. I need the distraction, need to burn off this tension.

Caleb skates up beside me, panting but grinning. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I grunt, not stopping.

“You ready for the game now?”

“I’ve been ready.” I fire the puck into the net, watching it smack the back with a satisfying thud.

Caleb laughs. “Good. Because we’re gonna crush them.”

“Damn right we are.”

We keep skating, keep pushing, until my legs burn and my mind is blissfully blank. But as soon as we hit the locker room, the distraction fades, and thoughts of Remy flood back in.

Why has this girl invaded my every waking thought like a goddamn virus?

The locker room is buzzing with energy. Coach Jacobs is standing at the whiteboard, mapping out the last-minute strategies for tonight’s home game. He’s pacing, gesturing at the board like he’s conducting an orchestra. I’m only half paying attention.

Noah’s sitting beside me, fidgeting with his stick, and Thatcher is throwing tape at Dylan, trying to distract him from the coach’s rambling. Caleb’s across from me, catching my eye, smirking. We all know we’re going to steamroll this college team tonight. They have nothing on us, but Coach Jacobs still acts like it’s the Stanley Cup Finals. I appreciate him more for it.

“Alright, boys, positions,” Coach Jacobs says, finally cutting the speech short. “Zane, you’re starting center. Noah, left wing. Thatcher, on defense with Dylan. Brody, you’re in the net tonight. Caleb, right wing. You got it?”

We all grunt in acknowledgment. I’m already antsy, ready to hit the ice. The tension in my muscles is more from thinking about Remy than the damn game. I haven’t seen her all day, and it’s eating at me. I catch myself scanning the stands as we line up to take the faceoff, but no sign of her. It’s not like she knows who the fuck I am yet.

The puck drops, and the game kicks off exactly how we expected. We dominate Windward Seals from the start. Caleb’s fast on the wing, constantly feeding me the puck. Thatcher is throwing bodies into the boards, keeping their defense on their heels.

By the second period, we’re up 5-0. Coach Jacobs is pacing behind the bench, barely able to sit still.

“Let’s close it out!” he shouts, voice hoarse from barking orders all night.

I glance up at the stands and scan the crowd again. Still no Remy.

Caleb comes up beside me, panting, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re crushing these kids, man.”

We score two more goals before the final buzzer, winning 7-1. Windward University never had a chance. The team gathers at center ice, sticks tapping as we celebrate, but my eyes keep wandering toward the empty spots in the bleachers.

After the game, Caleb and I walk out of the locker room together. Maya’s already waiting for us, practically bouncing with excitement.

“You guys killed it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around Caleb.

“Yeah, we sure did,” Caleb says, grinning as he pulls her into a quick kiss.

They start talking about the after-party, and I’m half-listening, trying not to sound like I’m disappointed that Remy isn’t here. I shove my hands into my pockets, hoping maybe she’ll show up at the party.

“You coming to the party tonight?” Maya asks, glancing at me.

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Maya smiles, but Caleb gives me a sideways look. He knows exactly why I’m holding out hope. “Your roommate coming?” he asks.

Maya frowns a little. “She said she needs to study. She’s got a big exam next week and doesn’t want to fall behind.”

Caleb throws me a look, one of thosesorry, manexpressions. “Ah, that sucks. Well, we’ll still have fun.”

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