Page 49 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

And despite all my better judgment, I think I might like him too.

Then the thought crosses my mind…we aren’t considering Cade at all.

Chapter 14

The blush that creeps up her cheeks is worth every minute I spent going back and forth with the girl down the hall, who initially refused to tell me if Hannah was in her room or not. Only the promise of two tickets to our next home game—and my solemn vow that I wasn't a stalker—convinced her to spill that Hannah had just walked back into her room after looking out the window.

"Stop calling me that," Hannah says, but she's not actually mad about it.

"What would you prefer? Han? Banan? Hammie?"

"Oh my god, Hammie?" She shoves my shoulder, and I dramatically fall sideways onto her bed.

"I'm never washing this shirt again," I declare, glancing where she just touched me.

"What? You're ridiculous," she says, but she's fighting a smile.

"You might have cooties on your hand now."

She wipes her hand on my knee, the touch sending my body into a frenzy.

I stare at her hand and joke, "Higher. Higher."

She hits my leg, and I catch her hand as she chuckles. Hell, I want to drink that sound. I don’t fully release her hand as my fingers catch hers. The sensation of our fingers dancing together makes her smile drop.

"What’re you doing?" she says, never removing her hand from mine.

I face her palm up. Really, I’d do anything to keep touching her. I swirl my finger in her palm.

"You’re being weird, Sanderson."

"And yet you agreed to an extended social interaction with me." I sit back up, noting how she doesn't pull her hand away even though what I’m doing is definitely weird. "I must be doing a few things right."

"Or I'm just tired of you harassing me."

"You ignored me for four days," I counter.

"I didn't ignore you. I was busy."

"Busy?" I lay my hand flat on hers.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, actually busy with real life. Some of us have responsibilities."

"I have responsibilities," I protest. "A lot of responsibilities. I have hockey. And…more hockey. Homework, projects, exams just like you. And sometimes I feed the neighbor's cat when she's out of town."

Hannah laughs, and the sound does things to my insides.

"A true pillar of society," she says.

"I try."

We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us aware of the contact point where our hands rest. I want to pull her closer—to brush back the strand of hair that's fallen across her face, to trace the curve of her jaw with my finger. But I don't. That's not what this moment calls for.

"So," I say instead. "This extended social interaction. When is a good time for this busy woman?"

I pull my hand away as she bites her lip, considering. "Friday? After my bio ethics paper is turned in."

"Friday it is." I stand, not wanting to overstay my welcome. "I'll pick you up at seven."

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