Page 45 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

I correct him. "They didn’t even fuck, so I’d barely call it dating."

Rodriguez puts his hands up in surrender.

"Maybe she's just busy?" Peterson offers. "End of semester and all that."

"Or maybe she's still hung up on your brother," Miller suggests.

"Or maybe she's just not into you," Cory adds helpfully.

"For fuck sakes, guys. What the fuck," I say dryly.

"Look," Cory says, his tone turning serious. "If you really like this girl—and I’m surprised that you do—then just talk to her. Don't wait for her to make the first move. Girls will sit pretty and wait."

"But I don't want to push," I explain. "She's skittish. Overthinks everything––"

"So?" Miller shrugs. "Make it easy for her. No pressure, just checking in."

"It's not that simple," I argue. "She's convinced I'm just after her because she's Cade's ex. Or because of…other reasons."

"Are you?" Peterson asks bluntly.

"No," I say firmly. "It's not about Cade. It's about her. It's different with her."

"They're all 'different' until they're not," Rodriguez says. "Just be careful, man. Brother's exes are complicated."

Cory studies me for a moment, then nods as if coming to a decision. "You’re fucked, man. But you need to bump into her, maybe, so you don’t seem desperate."

"Forced proximity," Peterson adds. "She needs to see you and realize what she’s missing."

"That’s the thing. I doubt she’s missing me," I admit.

"So, it’s one sided?" Peterson asks.

I sigh. "Fuck, I don’t know."

"Just promise us one thing," Miller says as we finish getting dressed. "If this blows up, don't bring the drama to the ice. We've got championships to win."

"Yeah," I agree, already formulating a plan on how to see her again. "Thanks for nothing, fuckers."

They all laugh as I head out.

As I’m walking, I try to think of places she would be. I cut the corner and recall the argument she had with my brother.Matcha.

I head to the only place on campus I think would serve a matcha green tea, knowing damn well she’s not going to be there but needing to check out the menu.

I waltz in, glancing around at the tables. I head straight to the cashier and ask, "Do you guys have matcha?"

The girl smiles at me. "We do. Small, medium, or large."

Perfect. "Small."

"Okay," she smiles, and I have to stop the urge to search social media for Hannah’s profile because that screams desperate. I lean against the counter, glancing around the place.

Where the hell are you, Hannah?

I tap the counter, reiterating the conversation I had in the locker room with the guys.Forced proximity, huh?Force her into my life somehow.

I do love a good game.

---