Page 39 of Hat Trick Daddies

The phone buzzes on the passenger seat. A quick glance at the screen shows Tiffany Perez’s name, complete with a kiss emoji, lighting up the display.

At the next red light, I lean over to read the message.

>> What are you up to later? I could come over…

I roll my eyes, my fingers brushing the screen as if I might reply, but I don’t.

Instead, I toss the phone back onto the seat, the screen flipping facedown as if that will silence the nagging thought she’s planted in my head.

The light turns green, and I ease onto the accelerator, the soft purr of the engine filling the quiet. Tiffany’s text lingers in mymind, though, sparking a string of questions I wasn’t prepared for this early in the day.

Tiff’s fun, no doubt about that. Sexy, fiery, and always up for a good time. But the idea of her coming over later doesn’t fill me with the excitement it once did.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping grounding me as I turn onto a wider street, the skyline of Minneapolis coming into view.

What do I even want?

The question catches me off guard, slipping into my thoughts uninvited. For a long time, the answer was simple: fun, no strings attached, someone to help fill the time. Someone to distract me.

But lately, that answer isn’t cutting it anymore.

I glance at the coffee cups and let out a sigh. Maybe I’m just getting old.

Growing up, Tyler and I shared everything. Our childhood bedroom, our first car, and later, the endless stream of puck bunnies who floated in and out of our lives like party favors.

It was easy, fun, and we never thought twice about it.

But now? Now it feels…exhausting.

The constant merry-go-round of girls at clubs, names I barely remember the next day, shallow conversations that go nowhere—it’s all starting to feel empty. Vapid.

I’m not like Tyler. I never have been.

He’s the hunter, the guy who locks onto his target and doesn’t stop until he’s got what he wants.

I’m more careful—slower to make decisions, slower to jump into things.

Which is probably why this change feels natural. Even if I’m not sure what to do with it yet.

My thoughts drift to Ally.

From the moment she walked into the locker room, she’s been stuck in my head. Her bright blue eyes, her shy smile, the way she carries herself with quiet confidence, it’s magnetic.

I picture her again, imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to run my hands through her blonde hair, to feel her soft lips against mine. The thought sends a jolt through me, equal parts thrilling and frustrating.

Because Tyler’s already made his move.

Typical.

He always has to stake his claim first, like he’s calling dibs. And with Ally, it feels wrong.

She’s not some puck bunny. She’s entirely different from the girls we’re used to.

And yet, Tyler treated her like just another conquest the other night.

The coffee cups rattle slightly in their holders as I grip the steering wheel tighter, my frustration simmering.

I turn into our neighborhood, the houses lined with old oaks and maples, their leaves starting to turn golden with the season. Pulling into the driveway, I tap the horn lightly, glancing up at the house. No movement.

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