Page 3 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

Cade:Will do

I fall back onto my bed, a smile spreading across my face that I couldn't suppress if I tried. I hug my pillow to my chest, butterflies swarming in my stomach.

Tonight, I'm getting laid.

Chapter 2

"Lucy, I can't fucking do this!" I shout into the phone, my patience snapped like a cheap stick.

She erupts, forcing me to yank the phone from my ear. "All you fucking care about is hockey and your boys. My boys, this. My boys, that! And then you call me whenever you want to fuck, and I think that's total bullshit, Sanders!"

I catch Cory's eye from the bench. He's listening with the focused attention of a man watching his favorite sport. Hockey's got nothing on relationship drama.

"Lucy, I told you what this was when we first hooked up. I don't want a fucking girlfriend," I remind her for what feels like the hundredth time this month.

Her groan rattles through the speaker loud enough to echo off the locker room walls. "That's all you fucking say, Sanders.I don't do relationships. I don't want a girlfriend."

There’s no way in hell I sound the way she’s mocking me right now.

I stare at the wall, tension building in my jaw. "I can't keep doing this."

"Fuck you, Sanders! You're such a fucking coward and a fucking liar because when you're coming in me, you––"

I hit end. The sudden silence better than any goal horn I've ever heard.

I shake my head as Cory grins. My phone lights up again, vibrating against my palm like an angry wasp. Another text.

Lucy: You have a serious problem!

Lucy: You hung up on me!?

Lucy: I'll meet you at your place tonight to talk

"Fucking hell," I mutter, showing Cory the message.

He chuckles, offering zero advice despite witnessing the entire train wreck.

"She doesn't take a fucking hint," I scoff, closing my messages as she starts calling again. I jam the phone into my pocket where it continues to buzz like a trapped fly.

"She loves the monster––"

"Cory," I cut him off.

He laughs. "You could have any bitch with that girth, bro, just saying."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, dropping onto the bench beside him. We've got a game tonight, and Lucy loves to hang off my arm at the after-party like a championship trophy. I need to find a way to avoid her.

"I'm not coming out tonight, and if she says anything––"

His hand lands on my shoulder, solid. "I got your back."

I bury my face in my hands, trying to figure out where I keep fucking up.

Lucy started off easy. She agreed with me, even said she wasn't looking for a relationship either. It was perfect, it worked. Then came the flood–excessive texts, constant calls, all the fucking drama. Anyone watching from the outside would think we're a couple.

I exhale slowly, the realization settling in my gut like bad pre-game food. These girls keep lying straight to my face. And somehow they all end up certifiably insane.

"You'll blow off steam tonight," Cory says, nudging me. "Gibbs has it coming for him."

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