Page 16 of Puck Right Off

Tristan: Hopefully, what you learned about me today will help change the horrible first impression I made.

Irrational anger swirls through me.Why is he doing this?It’s more obvious than ever that we are complete opposites.

Me: I should be impressed that you’re a smart jock. Probably makes you better at being a puck boy.

Tristan: Ouch. I’m not a puck boy, blondie. Nice try, though.

Me: Shouldn’t you be paying attention instead of messaging me, smarty pants?

Tristan: Shouldn’t you?

I bristle as I read his message. My gaze sweeps over him, frowning as he flashes me an arrogant smile.

What is his deal? He has avoided me all weekend, but he won’t leave me alone today.

Discreetly slipping my cell phone from my backpack, I text Chelsea to update her. I need some sympathy and advice.

My phone vibrates, and I quickly look at it, anticipating Chelsea’s response. My eyes widen when I see it’s from Tristan.

Tristan: Now you’re texting in class, too. Tsk, tsk. You aren’t fitting the stereotypical bookworm behavior.

I roll my eyes, about to respond, when I get a response from Chelsea.

Chelsea: You have class with Tristan? This semester is going to be full of drama. I can’t wait!

I frown at my phone.Not helpful, Chelsea.

As if she’s a mind reader, another text message appears.

Chelsea: He missed you, so he can’t leave you alone.

I sigh but answer Tristan’s text instead of responding to Chelsea.

Me: So you can deviate from typical jock behavior, but I’m not allowed to deviate from bookworm behavior?

Tristan: I love your feistiness. It’s cute and sexy, just like you. BTW you look hot in that outfit.

My mouth falls open as I read his text. I glance up at the professor, who isn’t paying attention to me, before looking at Tristan. He’s staring at me, a challenging glint in his eyes.

Determination coils through me as I give him a smirk.

Two can play this game.

It’s on, puck boy.

CHAPTER 9

Tristan

How the hell am I supposed to concentrate in class when Jordyn is dressed like a sexy librarian?

My gaze moves from her black button-down shirt to her plaid skirt. Her long, lightly tanned legs are crossed. She swings one sandal clad foot nervously. My eyes roam back up her body, slowly drinking her in before landing on her crimson cheeks. Her eyes lock with mine before darting away.

“You’ve got it bad for her, captain.” I hate the smugness in Alex’s low tone as his eyes follow mine to Jordyn.

My eyes narrow at him. “Shut up.”

“Oh… I’m scared by that comeback.” Alex rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you march over there, flip up her skirt, and fuck?—”

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