Page 21 of My Pucked Up Enemy

Then she pulls back. Gasping.

“We can’t,” she says, like she just remembered what world we live in.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I know.”

She stares at me like she’s trying to figure out if that was real or some stress-induced lapse in judgment.

My chest rises and falls. Hers does too. Neither of us moves.

She smooths her clothes, avoiding my eyes for just a second, just long enough for me to feel a shift.

“You need sleep,” she says finally. “And we need boundaries.”

Then she turns and walks away. Heels clicking down the hallway. Not looking back.

I stay where I am, hands at my sides, lips still tingling.

I swipe a hand down my jaw like I’m trying to erase it.

But I can’t.

Because it happened.

And now I can’t stop thinking about how it felt.

What it meant.

What it might mean next time.

Ifthere’s a next time.

“Damn it…” I mutter under my breath, leaning back against the cold concrete wall, “I’m already losing the game off the ice.”

Chapter seven

Nina

"Itwasamistake,"I say out loud, mostly to the mug of black coffee in my hand.

It doesn't answer, just sends up a curl of steam like it's laughing at me.

The sun barely cuts through the cloudy Detroit morning as I lean against the windowsill, barefoot in an old college sweatshirt and flannel sleep shorts. Outside, the city stretches into a slow wake-up hum, but inside, my brain is already sprinting laps around the other night.

One kiss. One stupidly hot, irrational, raw kiss. And now, my skin still remembers his hands. My lips still buzz from the contact.

It was supposed to be a confrontation. A boundary-setting moment.

Instead, it turned into a line crossed.

Heat of the moment,I write in my journal.Emotional overflow. One-off.

My pen hovers. I add:But what if it wasn't?

I snap the journal shut. Nope. Not today. Not when I have back-to-back sessions, a group activity to prep, and a goalie who I hope will be willing to try visualization.

Maybe.

If I’m lucky.

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