Page 9 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

I’d accused Kowalski of being a shitty wingman before, but I knew he just came through for me in a big way—my teammate undoubtedly knew as well as I did that if Lindsay could get Megan’s help instead of mine, she’d go that route. Totally selfish to keep her to myself, I knew, but the girl was finally talking to me, and I needed the excuse. If things went south, I’d give her Megan’s info, but I wasn’t about to give up now that I had my foot in the door.

“We’ll leave you to it,” I said, nudging Lindsay into a booth a couple of tables away. I scooted beside her instead of taking a seat on the other side, because how could I help her with a table between us? I liked this tutoring excuse more and more and I planned on squeezing every drop out of it.

“I’m kind of surprised that Beck’s okay with his sister dating Dane Kowalski—especially if they make out like that in front of him.” Lindsay’s posture tensed. “Not that I would really know anything about those guys. I’m just assuming. You know. Big brothers and what not. Whitney talks about the team sometimes, and I read her articles, so…” She pressed her lips together. “And I’m done rambling now.”

“Ramble away—I like it. When they first got together it was a big deal, but Davenport adjusted.” That was definitely the CliffsNotes version. The longer version had involved a lot of drama I’d done my best to stay out of. A week or so ago, I’d been worried it’d affect the team right before we all needed to be at our best for playoffs, but so far so good.

Lindsay dragged her fingertips across the edge of the table, focusing on the motion. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me, but—”

Larry showed up with the coffee and menus before Lindsay could finish whatever she’d been about to say. I’d heard snippets of conversations here and there, but all I really knew about her was she worked for the paper and hated hockey players.

We ordered and then I turned back to her. “You were saying?”

She stared across the table at the blue vinyl, her finger circling the ring of her mug over and over. “Never mind.”

I wanted to push, but at the same time, I worried she’d shut down, so we started her assignment instead—at least math had solid, irrefutable answers that I knew how to find. A few minutes in, our food arrived, the greasy scent making my stomach rumble.

I poured ketchup on my burger, made a big puddle for my fries, and then moved to put some on Lindsay’s plate.

She covered her food with a dramatic “No!”

“Sorry.” I righted the bottle and held it out to her. “Do you have a thing about pouring your own ketchup?”

“I have a thing about not putting disgusting ketchup on my food so I can actually eat it.”

“You don’t like ketchup?” I knew she’d just said as much, but in my family, we put ketchup on our ketchup. My roommates turned up their noses when I put it on my eggs, and I could sort of understand that, but burgers and fries? How did you eat thosewithoutketchup?

She wrinkled her cute little nose and used her pointer finger to push the bottle back toward me. “It’s gross.”

“First math, then ketchup. I’m not sure how I feel about this.” I studied her and gave a dramatic sigh. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well, I’m having my doubts about you, too.”

“Maybe if you started eating ketchup, you’d find that math suddenly made perfect sense.”

“Pass.”

I swiped a handful of fries through my ketchup and then made a big show of how much I enjoyed it. Lindsay scooted her plate farther from mine and I laughed.

After eating the bulk of our food, we hit the books again.

As she worked out a problem, I put my arm on the back of the booth and got lost in the way she wrinkled her eyebrows and bit her lip. Man, she was sexy. I was good at math and all, but if our situations were reversed and she were trying to teach me…pretty much any subject, I’d never be able to focus on anything but those lips.

Over the past few months I’d felt this void in my life. I couldn’t exactly explain it. I had my position on the hockey team, my classes were going well, and I liked my roommates even though they were occasionally idiots—especially when it came to girls—but there was just something missing. Maybe that was why I’d set my sights on Lindsay so hard after one night where, honestly, all she’d done was glare at us and threaten to call the cops.

Right when I’d decided it was time to give up on anything ever happening between us, we’d spent that hour together the other night. Even the whispering of the connection made me want more. I wasn’t much of a talker, but I wanted to talk to her, even though it intimidated the hell out of me. Half of what I’d achieved was because I didn’t let a little thing like common sense get in my way, and I wasn’t about to start now.

“Ox.” She snapped her fingers in my face, literally snapping me out of it. “You’re kind of staring.”

“I’d say admiring, but…”

Pink crept across her cheeks. So her fight-or-flight response wouldn’t kick in, I leaned over and studied the problem she’d completed.

She pointed the tip of her pencil at the solution she’d scribbled down. “Is it right?”

I nodded and she grinned, and that triumphant smile hit me right in the gut.

Movement caught my attention and Kowalski and Megan slowly approached. “Hey, I don’t know if you guys are into Shakespeare,” Megan said, “but Dane and I were about to head over to Babson. The same troupe who does Shakespeare in the Commons is doing a few showings there right now to prepare for summer.”

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