Page 35 of My Pucked Up Enemy

Darren’s already seated when I walk into the restaurant, nursing a beer and flipping through his phone like he's been there all day.

"Well look who finally decided to show up," he says without looking up. "I was about to order you the kiddie menu."

"And I was about to text you to make sure you remembered which city you’re in."

He stands up and we hug. Darren’s in his late thirties, salt-and-pepper stubble, ex-military, ex-bouncer, and now somehow a dad who runs a martial arts studio. Same sharp jaw, same too-serious eyes as me, just with a permanent smirk.

We bump fists and slide into the booth like we’ve done a thousand times before. He makes some joke about how I finally remembered to show up on time for once, and I fire back that he's only early when there's food involved. We trade laughs until the waitress brings us menus neither of us bother reading.

“Caught the game the other night,” Darren says, lifting his beer. “You looked... different. Still intense, but not wound up like a rubber band ready to snap.”

I lift a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Less hurricane. More… I don’t know, like you were actually breathing out there.”

I stare at my drink for a beat. Then I nod. “The team brought someone in. Sports psych.”

Darren grins. “Let me guess. Young. Brilliant. Probably way too attractive for the job.”

I groan. “Her name’s Nina. She’s smart. Knows what she’s doing. At first, I was pissed off. Thought it was an imposition. Figured I’d throw up a wall so high she’d need climbing gear to scale it. But…” I trail off, shrugging.

“But now you’re sipping the Kool-Aid?”

“She’s got me thinking in ways I hate. But it’s working.”

Darren sips. "So what is she, some kind of knockout therapist-slash-hockey whisperer?" He smirks, watching me squirm. "You going to tell me she’s also a former model or what?"

I sigh. "She's really hot and acts like she knows all your secrets. And after one of our worst losses, she cornered me in the hallway. I was in no damn mood, and somehow, she got under my skin."

Darren narrows his eyes. "Under your skin? That bad?"

I scoff, shifting in the booth. "I was pissed, man. Heated. We'd just lost, I was in no mood for company. She showed up, said one thing like she could read my mind, and I lost it."

Darren leans forward. "Lost it how?"

I meet his gaze, deadpan. "I told her off and then I kissed her. Didn't plan it. Didn't think. Just... boom."

His eyes widen. "Damn. You kissed her? That's dangerous on so many levels."

"Tell me about it. Caught me off guard. Still does."

"Holy shit, man."

The waitress swings by to take our order. I go with a burger. Darren orders a salad like it’s a personal attack.

He leans in, lowering his voice. “So, what’s her deal really, because you were different in the last game. Not much. Still a tight-ass. But... like you're not trying to hold back a hurricane.”

I tear open a sugar packet and dump it into my iced tea. "She’s... smart. Relentless. She knows how to dig without making it feel like surgery."

"Sounds like a Jedi. Or a Bond villain."

"Probably both."

"And are you into her, or just terrified of her?"

"It’s not like that."

"It never is. Until it is."

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