Page 33 of Puck Right Off

Chelsea holds up her keys. “I’m driving. You’re too upset.” Her red lips curl into a wide smile. “Plus, when I run over that bastard, it’ll be my car that sustains damage instead of yours.”

“No arguments there. I learned my lesson.” After fastening my seatbelt, I grin at her. “Remember the last time I drove when I was upset? I knocked over the drive-thru speaker at McDonald’s and almost ran over the guy putting air in my tires.”

Chelsea laughs loudly as she starts her car. Checking her mirrors, she puts her car in reverse. “Of course I do. That dude throwing the hose in the air and running was funnier than hell.”

“God, we almost pissed ourselves from laughing so hard.”

“Good times, girl.” She looks over at me. “There will be more of them now that I’m here. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some puck boy bring my bestie down.” She lowers her sunglasses as she drives toward campus. “Not on my watch.”

Fifteen minutes later,Chelsea and I walk across campus toward the clinic. Her long brunette locks tumble around her shoulders as she shakes her head. “I don’t get why he was in your room.”

“Neither do I. It was so—” My voice cuts off as my eyes lock with a pair of sad, mossy ones. I freeze, anger and hurt rolling inside me as I stare him down.

Chelsea looks back and forth between us, then shoves hersunglasses on top of her head, marching toward him like a one-woman army.

Oh, this won’t end well. Tristan better duck and cover.

“Yo, ass wipe.” She stops right in front of him, ignoring Alex, who stares at her in awed fascination. “Jordyn told me what happened.”

“Chelsea, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

I feel Tristan’s eyes boring into me, but I ignore him, focusing on Chelsea. But there’s no way to talk her down now. He hurt me, so she’s going for the jugular.

She snaps her fingers. “Eyes on me, jackass. You don’t deserve to look at her.”

Alex snorts, turning his head away. His shoulders shake with silent laughter as Chelsea glares at him before turning the full force of her anger at Tristan. “You fucked up. You’ll be damn lucky if you’re not talking in permanent soprano when I’m through with you.”

Tristan’s eyes drop to her, and he blinks like he’s struggling to process her words.

Chelsea folds her arms over her chest, flipping a lock of dark hair over her shoulder. “It’ll be hard to get drafted by the NHL if every time you open your mouth, you chirp like a damn canary because I fucking ripped your dick and balls off and set them on fire.”

Alex groans, cupping his private area in the middle of campus. “Jesus. Dark angel is fierce as fuck. Why the hell is that so damn hot?”

I grip Chelsea’s arm to pull her away, but she’s already set her sights on Alex. “Listen, hockey boy. You may be hotter than hell, and normally, I’d wanna ride you like a bull in a rodeo. But your friend ruined that when he fucked with my bestie.”

The smile dies on Alex’s face. He turns his head, shooting Tristan a murderous glare.

Chelsea doesn’t miss it. “You look awfully pissed, hockey boy. Maybe you’ll rip his dick and balls off before I get the chance.” She shrugs. “Have at it. But give ‘em to me when you’re done so Jordyn and I can burn them.”

I’m shocked at the dark look on Alex’s face. He steps forward, his eyes roaming down Chelsea’s body, then back to her face. He smirks before he crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I have a long list of women wishing they could fuck me, and you’re at the end of that long line, aging while you wait.”

Before Chelsea can say a word, Alex turns his attention to me. “There’s a lot of shit you don’t know, Jordyn. I know you’re hurting, and trust me, I’m pissed at Tristan. I gave him hell for it.” He lowers his voice, but his words are like darts shooting into my heart. “For the record, he’s not a puck boy. But he is a broken man.”

My gaze moves to Tristan’s face. Even though I see the pain in his eyes, the way he acted after we had sex in the shower hurt.

Stepping into Tristan’s space, I unleash my pain, hoping it cuts him to the bone. “Instead of running away and doing God only knows what after our shower, you should’ve talked to me. When you returned, you acted like a complete ass.” Tears sting my bloodshot eyes. “You really fucked up.”

Tristan swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “You’re right. I really fucked up. I should’ve talked to you, especially after I visited…” He stops, shame coloring his cheeks as his eyes drop to his feet. “I regret my actions after our shower. I was really fucked in the head and?—"

I hold up my hand. “I’m not interested in hearing it now, Tristan. It’s too late.”

The pain on his face nearly takes my breath away. But my self-preservation kicks in.I can’t look at him anymore. I’ll caveand get my heart trampled. It’ll be the Joey situation all over again.

Hitching my purse higher on my shoulder, I straighten my spine. “Puck right off, asshole.”

I grab Chelsea’s arm and start moving away, but the accusation in Tristan’s voice stops me. “Are you going to the clinic?”

How the hell did he know that?I slowly turn around, one brow raised questionably. “Why does it matter if I am?”

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