Page 16 of Puck You Not

Score!

A smirk curled my lips.Fate had devised a trajectory my beautiful Avalon couldn’t dodge.I scooped up the device, making my own plans.She’d have to see me to get this back.And I’d turn that meeting into a date.And that date would turn into many more.

I slipped her phone into my pocket, considering my options for getting in touch with her again.

Avalon… There couldn’t be many students at the university by that name.I’d be stunned if there was more than one, truthfully.

Pulling out my own phone, I brought up my email app to write to AV, the only female I could think of to ask.Most of the other women I knew were puck bunnies who’d rather flash me than help me find my girl.

— .— .—

From:[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Date:March 18, 2025

Subject:Do You Know?

Hey… This is a longshot, AV, but I figure since you’re a female youmightknow the person I’m looking for.I just ran into this beautiful girl—I mean literally RAN INTO HER.Tackled her even.She ran off before I could get more than her first name—which BTW is more than I’ve gotten from you.But that’s a different problem.Anyway, do you know a girl named Avalon?I don’t have her last name.But I DO have her phone.I need to find her so I can return it.

At the very least.

P

— .— .—

I stared at the message, which seemed desperate and lame, even to me, but I didn’t care that much.AV214 and I were still anonymous.Until now, that had itched like an ill-fitting uniform, but now, I was thankful for it.I could be borderline pitiful, and she wouldn’t know it was the captain of the university’s hockey team.

I just hoped my secret pen pal had some intel that could help me.

“You okay, man?”

I glanced up from where I’d been staring at my phone.My teammate, my left winger, Porter George, stood on the paved path, peering down the incline at me.With a dark eyebrow raised beneath his equally dark mop of hair, he eyed me curiously.Yeah, I probably looked as if I’d taken a few too many hits to the head with a puck.

“Yeah, I’m good.Just sending an email.”

“Is this the new hot place to do that?”He nodded toward the grass and hugged his hoodie tighter around him.“If it doesn’t have good Wi-Fi, the trend probably won’t take off.And it’s cold as fuck out here.”

I blew out a scoffing breath.“This isn’t cold.”

Porter was a South Carolina boy, born and bred.He wouldn’t survive one winter up in Michigan where I’d been raised.He’d better hope he wasn’t picked up by the Red Wings.Or one of the Canadian teams, come to think of it.Or any northern team, for that matter.

“Says the guy who puts on cargo shorts as soon as the temps get above freezing,” he grumbled.

“I do not.”

“If that’s your story…” His eyes rolled.“But seriously… Why are you down there?”

“Stretching.”I joined him on the pavement, unwilling to explain that I’d tackled a woman then she’d taken off like a shot.The guys would make unending jokes about that.

“If that’s your story…” he repeated.

“It’s the only story you’re getting.”

He snorted.

“Fine.So how’d the interview go this morning?”he asked.

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