Page 113 of My Pucked Up Enemy

She meets my eyes.

Just for a second.

It’s a smile. Small. Real. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.

And she doesn’t come closer.

***

I get my gear together and tell myself I’m not doing what I know I’m about to do.

But I walk down the quiet hallway anyway.

Past the trainer’s room. Past the weight room. Toward the far end where the staff offices are tucked away.

Maybe she’s still here.

Maybe she’s waiting for me to say something first.

Maybe she’s hoping I’ll come find her.

I knock softly.

No answer.

I turn the knob.

The office is dark.

I step back and close the door quietly.

My hands are still damp. My pulse still thudding from the game.

The game was chaos. The win was clarity… but this?

This is confusion all over again. And I’m starting to hate how quiet it gets when she’s not around.

Chapter thirty-one

Nina

Iwakebeforemyalarm,eyes wide in the dim light of morning, and I already know sleep won’t find me again. My sheets are tangled, one leg half out from under the covers, my pillow shoved to the floor. I stare at the ceiling, then swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"You can’t keep doing this," I mutter into the silence.

But I do. Every morning this week has started with this same fog—part anxiety, part regret, all Alex.

I throw on leggings, a shirt, and my sneakers. I grab my keys and walk out the door without even brushing my hair. The morning chill hits me as soon as I step outside, but I welcome it. It’s something sharp, something real.

My feet move without thinking. Down the street, across the little pedestrian bridge near the park. Past the café I usually stop at. Not today. Coffee feels too indulgent for the knot I’m walking around with.

The city is just waking up. Runners glide past, earbuds in. Dog walkers are out in abundance. Horns echo in the distance, but in my bubble, it’s quiet.

I think about the last game. About Alex’s save in the third. About the way the guys swarmed him afterward, how Coach couldn’t stop grinning in the locker room.

I think about the moment after that, when he looked across the room at me.

He looked calm. Composed. But there was something behind it. Something waiting.

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