Page 55 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"Or," Lennox counters, "the universe brought you together in the most memorable meet-cute of all time."

"There was absolutely nothing cute about how we met. Jesus, Len."

She chuckles. "Horrifying-meet-cute, then. But still, you have to admit it's a story you'll never forget."

"That's putting it mildly." I pick at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "What would you do if you were me?"

"Me?" She laughs. "I'd climb that boy like a tree and not look back."

"Lennox!"

"What? He's hot, he's sweet, he brought you to a private movie screening. I mean, come on."

I roll my eyes, but she has a point. Sanderson did go through a lot of trouble for our "extended social interaction."

"I just don't want to rush into anything, and have it blow up in my face," I say. "I need to be sure."

"You can never be sure, Han. That's what makes it exciting."

"I don't like exciting. I like predictable. Safe."

"And how's that working out for you?" she asks gently.

I don't answer. We both know the truth—my carefully planned, predictable life led me straight to the most unpredictable situation imaginable.

My phone buzzes, and my heart does a little flip when I see the puck-head emoji name on the screen.

Just wanted to make sure you got inside safely. Thanks for tonight. I had fun.

Then, a second later:Even without hot fudge.

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

"Is that him?" Lennox asks, watching my expression.

I nod, typing a reply:I made it inside. Thanks for tonight.

His response is immediate:Hannah Banana.

I smile again, and Lennox leans over to read the exchange.

"Hannah Banana? Oh my god, that's adorable."

"It's not."

Sanderson.

I put my phone down, aware of Lennox watching me with a knowing smile.

"Not a word," I warn her.

"I didn't say anything," she says innocently. "But if I did, it would be that you're absolutely smitten with hockey boy."

"I am not smitten."

"Your face says otherwise."

I throw another pillow at her.

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