Page 2 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

First puck goes wide. Second hits the pipe. But the third? Bar down, baby. The satisfying ping echoes through the empty arena and I pump my fist. Sandy would shit his pants if he saw me right now.

"Still got it!" I shout, earning an actual laugh from Coach.

We run a few more drills. Stick handling, backward crossovers, suicide stops. Sweat soaks through my practice jersey and my lungs are on fire, but every successful drill feels like a tiny victory against Sandy's shadow.

Coach blows his whistle, and I glide over. My chest is heaving, and my legs are tired.

"Practice Wednesday, seven sharp," he says. "Let's see how you mesh with the team."

"I'll be there, Coach. Thanks for this chance." I nod at him because I fucking mean it. Sandy is going throw up when he figures out what I'm up to. And I can't fucking wait.

As he heads off, he calls back, "See you then, Cade."

My legs are still jelly from the skating drills, but the high from Coach's reaction keeps me moving across campus. If Sandy could see me, gear bag slung over my shoulder, new hockey player badge of honor, his jaw would be on the fucking ground.

Byron texted me to meet at our spot––the big oak tree that's seen more study breaks than actual studying. He's there sprawled out next to Saylor. Great. Because what's better than sharing good news? Sharing it with someone as annoying as her.

Byron's already grinning as I drop my bag. "So? Did the coaches buy it?"

"Buy it?" I flop down on the grass, stretching out my sore calves. "Man, I crushed those drills. Practice Wednesday, seven sharp."

"Holy shit." Byron high-fives me. "You actually pulled it off."

"Great. Another thing for you to brag about." Saylor doesn't look up from her phone.

I shoot her a look. This girl's been a thorn in my side since Byron started dating her last year. "At least I have things to brag about."

She finally looks at me, one eyebrow raised. "Right. Because what you're doing isn't fucking petty at all."

"Babe," Byron sighs, but he's got that half-smile that says he's not really going to stop her.

"No, she's right," I say, leaning back on my hands. "It's not petty at all."

Her face goes red. "Hey, I'm not the one trying to one-up my brother because he stole my girlfriend."

The words hang there for a second. Byron's smile fades. Even Saylor looks like she might've gone too far.

"Wow." I let out a short laugh. "You've been saving that one up, huh?"

"Cade––" Byron starts because he knows what's going to happen next.

"Nah, it's cool." I stand, brushing grass off my shorts. "Saylor's had a problem about this from the fucking beginning. And she's been very vocal about it."

"What they did was an accident, wasn't it?" she says, and that tone, that statement pisses me the fuck off. Sandy slipping inside of my girlfriend was an accident?Come the fuck on!

My jaw clenches.

"God damn it," Byron says, staring at his girlfriend. "Saylor."

"They're still fucking," I say, my last thread of patience snapping.

"Saylor," Byron warns again, but she ignores him.

She's staring at me with a smug look that I fucking hate. "You're so self-centered, Cade," she says as she grabs her bag and stands.

"Are you fucking serious?" I ask, turning to Byron to make sure I'm not the crazy one here. Saylor is immature unlike anyone I've ever known. This is fucking ridiculous, and I know I'm not the problem here.

She storms off, and Byron runs a hand through his hair. "Why do you two always do this?"

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