Page 101 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"So, Friday," Greta brings us back on track. "We'll need tickets. And team colors. Do they have merch?"

"I have no idea," I admit. "This is all new to me."

"Leave it to me," Lennox says, already typing on her phone. "I'll get us tickets in the student section. It'll be an experience."

"Speaking of experiences," Finley leans forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity, "how are things going with you two? Details, please. Some of us are living vicariously."

I hesitate, not sure how much to share. Sanderson and I haven't exactly been hiding our relationship, but it still feels new, fragile, something to be protected from the outside.

"It's good," I say simply. "Really good."

"That's all we get?" Lennox groans. "After I covered for you with the RA? Come on."

"What more do you want?" I ask, though I know exactly what they're fishing for.

"Is he as good in bed as rumors suggest?" Greta asks bluntly.

"Greta!" Finley gasps, but she's leaning forward too, clearly interested in the answer.

The memory of Sanderson’s hands, his mouth, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did, flashes through my mind. "I don't kiss and tell," I say primly, but I can feel the blush giving me away.

"That good, huh?" Lennox says with a knowing smile. "I knew it."

"Can we please talk about something else?" I beg. "Like the Bio Ethics final that's going to destroy me next week?"

"Boring," Lennox dismisses with a wave. "Has he said it yet?"

"Said what?"

"The L-word," Finley clarifies.

"It's way too soon for that," I laugh. Wow, they think I’m living in a freaking fairytale.

"Time is relative when it comes to feelings," Greta says with surprising wisdom. "My parents got engaged after three months. They've been married for twenty-six years."

"Well, we're not anywhere near engagement," I say firmly. "We're just…figuring things out."

"But you like him," Lennox presses. "Like, really like him."

I think about Sanderson—not just the physical attraction, though that's certainly potent, but the way he listens when I talk, the unexpected depth I've discovered beneath his jock exterior, the tender way he holds me after we make love.

"Yeah," I admit softly. "I really do."

The girls exchange knowing looks, and I brace myself for more teasing. Instead, Finley reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

"I'm happy for you, Han," she says sincerely. "After everything with Cade, you deserve someone who makes you smile like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're doing right now," Greta points out. "All dreamy and soft. It's disgustingly cute."

I roll my eyes, but I can't deny the heat spreading through my chest. It's nice having friends who support me, who are genuinely happy for my happiness, even if they express it through relentless teasing.

"So," Lennox says, bringing us back to the original topic. "Hockey game. We'll meet at my dorm at six, pregame a little, then head over together. Wear something blue and white."

"Pregame?" I question. "It's a sporting event, not a frat party."

"Oh, sweet summer child," Greta laughs. "You have so much to learn about college athletics."

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