Page 51 of Pucking Grey

I nod.

“How exactly?”

“Driving with me right now is a good start. Is that why you did it?”

I chuckle. “No. I couldn’t let my girlfriend drive alone. I asked Coach a simple question and got a simple answer. But coach…”

When he trails off, I wonder what he’s going to say.

“Forget it,” he says.

“No,” I laugh. “You cannot do that to me. I’m clearly the best at keeping secrets. All your secrets are safe with me.”

He says, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Well, what is it?” He hesitates, so I ask, “Are you really not going to tell me now? Is it that bad?”

“Coach said I have to stay away from you.”

“What?” I ask confused. “He said that? Why?”

Greyson shrugs. “Something about you being a Wilder.”

“Yeah.” I smile. “That name has gotten me out of trouble a few times.” I look over at him through the dark car, teasing him. He istroubleafter all. I ask, “Are you in trouble because of me?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s my fault for having a reputation.”

“About that,” I raise a brow. “Am I hurting your reputation? Making you seem dateable?”

He laughs, and I hate that it’s dark in here. I think I uncovered a deep part to Grey. He is comfortable at night. When I steal glimpses of him, he’s relaxed in the passenger seat. I enjoy that he’s not so tense. Or maybe it’s because he just had a game and he’s on a winning high. Either way, I like this Greyson Cress. I wouldn’t mind keeping this version of him.

“So, what do you do after a game?” I ask, imagining his after game high ends in sex.

“Do you want to know?” He has sarcasm in his voice, but I’m taking full advantage of these three isolated hours with him.I want to know everything.

“Yes, whatever it is, I would like to know.”

He glances at the jersey I’m wearing again and scratches his face. “First I shower. Then I drink. Then I find someone who wants to sleep with me. I shower again. And on the nights I can’t wind down, I sneak into the auditorium to get back on the ice.”

I smile. “You should buy a house near a lake that freezes over. You know what? Just move to Antarctica. You’ll be unbothered and can skate instead of walk all day.”

He smiles. “Maybe Greenland.”

“Oh,” I jump up. “God, you should move to Canada.”

He talks in a Canadian accent, “Yeah, I’ll fit right in up there, ay.”

“With that good of an accent, they won’t suspect a thing.”

We laugh together, and this is feels nice. This is easy.

He places a finger on the radio and asks, “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. Be my guest.”

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