Page 19 of The Pucking Player

Jessica pats the space beside her on the swing. “Come on. We’ve got plenty of time before dinner.”

I settle in beside her, the old wood creaking beneath our weight, and take a cautious sip. The warmth spreads through me like a slow flame, chasing away the chill of the day. For a while, we just sit, the swing rocking gently as we watch the steam curl up from our mugs. The snow glows golden in the fading light of the late afternoon, and for amoment, it feels like nothing in the world could disturb this peace.

But then Jessica turns to me, a sly glint in her eye that I know all too well. “So,” she begins, her voice light but loaded with meaning, “a little birdie told me Liam O’Connor made an appearance on campus today. Care to share?”

I nearly choke on my drink, sputtering as the mulled wine burns its way down my throat. “Wait, what?” I manage to wheeze, coughing into my scarf. “How…?”

Realization hits, and I whip my head toward her, narrowing my eyes. “Oh my God. It was you, wasn’t it? You told him where to find me!”

Jessica doesn’t even bother denying it. She grins like the Cheshire cat, leaning back against the swing. “What can I say? He asked. I delivered.”

“Jessica!” I groan, swatting her arm with my free hand. “What happened to sisterly loyalty?”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Thisissisterly loyalty. Don’t act like you’re not flattered. Or interested.”

“I’m flattered. But not interested,” I protest. The traitorous blush creeping up my neck tells a different story. “And flattered doesn’t mean I want him stalking me at my dorm!”

Jessica laughs, her dark hair spilling out from under her hat as she leans forward. “I know Liam, Soph, he won’t do that. And besides, if you’d just given the poor guy your number like a normal person, he wouldn’t have had to take desperate measures.”

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out. Because as much as I hate to admit it, she has a point.

“Youlikehim, remember?” she says, taking another sipof her mulled wine. “Or have you already forgotten all those love poems you scribbled in your journal?”

I groan again, pressing my palms to my face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Jess. He’s so… Ugh. Charming and cocky and impossible. He’s gonna be third-degree burns.”

Jessica shrugs, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Good thing you’re studying medicine then. And maybe some excitement would do you good.”

I glare at her, but I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Jessica throws her head back and laughs, the sound crisp and musical as it echoes into the still winter air. “Guilty as charged! But the poor guy was practically on his knees, begging for your number. It was just too pitiful. I had to step in. Call it a mercy mission.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that?”

Jessica shrugs, unrepentant. “It’s part of my charm, or so I’ve been told.” She takes another sip of her mulled wine, watching me over the rim of her mug. “Now spill. Tell meeverything.”

I sigh, settling back against the swing as it creaks gently beneath us. “Alright, fine. Casanova waited for hours in the freezing cold until I found him leaning against his stupid car.”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s some serious dedication. Either he’s totally into you, or he’s lost all common sense.”

“Probably both,” I mutter, unable to suppress a groan. “Long story short, I ended up giving him my number. He wasn’t going to leave otherwise.”

Jessica lets out a low whistle, nudging me with herelbow. “And? What’s the plan? Are you going to go out with him?”

I hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek. The warmth of the mulled wine does little to ease the conflict roiling in my chest. “I don’t know, Jess,” I admit finally. “I did some digging online, and the stories about him…” I trail off, shaking my head. “They don’t exactly scream boyfriend material.”

Jessica sets her mug down on the swing’s armrest, her expression softening. “Okay, I get that. But maybe there’s more to him than what those stories show. I mean, think about it—Dad wouldn’t have him as team captain if he was a total scumbag, right? He’s got to have some redeeming qualities.”

I let out a skeptical laugh, swirling the wine in my mug. “Jess, Dad doesn’t give a damn about Liam’s sex life as long as he performs on the ice. He could be dating the entire Victoria’s Secret catalog, and as long as he’s scoring goals and keeping the team in line, Dad’s not going to care.”

Jessica presses her lips together, considering this. “Maybe,” she admits. “But you should find out for yourself who he really is, not take for granted what the tabloids say.”

I shake my head, still unconvinced. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk. I don’t want to end up like one of those girls in the headlines.”

Jessica tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to read my thoughts. “But what if he’s not?” she counters gently. “What if he’s actually into you? Wouldn’t you hate to wonder what might’ve happened if you never gave him a chance?”

Her words land harder than I expect, and I feel my chest tighten with that same dangerous curiosity that’s beenswirling in the back of my mind ever since Liam kissed me at the hospital.

I look down at my mug, my reflection rippling faintly in the dark liquid. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “I just…I can’t tell if he’s worth the gamble.”

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