Page 28 of The Pucking Player

She laughs, already rummaging through a section of evening gowns. “Honey, you’re going to be a doctor. You’ll be able to afford three of these closets. Ah-ha!” With a triumphant flourish, she pulls out a garment bag and unzips it to reveal a stunning beige evening gown.

The dress is deceptively simple from the front—clean lines, a modest neckline. But when she turns it around, my breath catches. The back plunges daringly low, the silk draping in a way that’s both elegant and undeniably sexy.

“Nora Kemal to the rescue,” Jessica declares proudly. “Isn’t she the best?”

“Jess,” I breathe, reaching out to touch the smooth fabric. “It’s gorgeous. But…isn’t it a bit much? I mean, it’s practically screaming‘fuck me.’”

“Precisely!” Jessica beams, holding it up to me. “Come on, girl. Live a little! When’s the last time you dressed up and felt sexy?”

“I…well…” I stammer, trying to come up with a time.

How about never?

“That’s what I thought,” Jessica says smugly. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Think of the children!”

I roll my eyes. “Low blow, Jess.”

“Just try it on.” She waggles the dress at me like a carrot on a stick.

I hesitate, eyeing the gown warily. But then I imagine how the silk will feel against my skin. And, okay, fine, I imagine Liam’s reaction too.

That’s all it takes for me to grab the gown and start changing.

10

BREAKING THROUGH

LIAM

Ipull up to Westchester University, my car gliding to a stop in front of Sophie’s dorm. The campus sprawls before me like a winter postcard—snow-dusted brick buildings framed by bare, skeletal trees, glowing faintly under the soft shimmer of twilight. Strings of fairy lights are woven around lampposts, their delicate glimmer casting a magical glow. It’s picturesque, serene, and absolutely nothing like the storm of nerves churning inside me.

I adjust my bow tie in the rearview mirror, giving myself a once-over.

You’re Liam O’Connor. Captain of the Defenders. You’ve scored hat tricks under more pressure than this. Get a grip.

And yet, my palms are clammy against the steering wheel, my heart pounding in double time.

It’s just a gala.

With Sophie Novak on my arm.

A girl who—let’s be real—has lived rent-free in my head since the moment I spotted her last week.

No big deal.

I buzz the intercom, and a cheerful voice crackles through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Sophie Novak.”

There’s a pause, then an unmistakably excited, “Oh! You must be Liam. Come on up!”

The door buzzes open, and I make my way to the third floor. As I round the corner, I spot a statuesque blonde standing in the doorway, her jaw practically hitting the floor when she sees me.

“Hi,” I say, mustering a charming smile as I extend my hand. “I’m Liam, Sophie’s date for the evening.”

The girl snaps out of it, blinking rapidly as she shakes my hand. “Wow, hi. I’m Jenna, Sophie’s roommate. Come in, please. She’s just finishing up.”

I step inside, taking in the cozy living room. It’s small but comfortable, with textbooks scattered across the coffee table and a fuzzy throw draped over the couch. A corkboard on the wall is pinned with photos and memorabilia, including a couple of Defenders game tickets.

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