Page 5 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Lindsay leaned closer to me, close enough I could see the darker rim of brown around her lighter irises. “Does math want me to be easy? Because I’m not.”

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

“Math wouldn’t mind that—he doesn’t judge, either way, just to be clear—but he already got that message when you wouldn’t play flip cup with him.” Flirting with her was so easy, my words coming out before I even thought about holding back. Good thing, because after focusing on hockey, hockey, and more hockey to cement my position on the team this past year, I was a bit rusty. Honestly, I’d never done the official dating thing. I stuck to off-season and casual, because my life never allowed for much more.

Her mouth dropped. “I’m starting to suspect this conversation isn’t about math at all!” A laugh escaped her lips and she shook her head, and all I wanted was to make her laugh again.

“I better, uh, start on the next problem,” she said, pulling from our intimate bubble to write out the next equation.

In this moment, math did suck. I owed it for allowing me to get this close to Lindsay in the first place, but it’d be great if it stopped cockblocking me about now.

If only I hadn’t exhausted all my conversation efforts in that one admittedly super-nerdy attempt. Usually I heard my dad’s disappointed voice in my head when I failed at something, but Dane’s voice popped into my head instead.Bro, you really need to work on your moves. Besides, I told you that Lindsay Rivera would never go for you.

His nearly impossible situation with our teammate’s little sister had worked out, so maybe it wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed.

We covered the rest of the problems, went over a few of the concepts she stumbled over, and my determination to break through this girl’s tough exterior and figure her out only grew stronger.

At the end of the hour I held my breath, wondering if she’d tell me my time was up and I’d failed—even though I saw that she understood more than she had when we’d first sat down.

She bit her lip and I’d never been so jealous of someone else’s teeth before. “Okay, so I do kind of sort of understand this particular concept better now.”

“But you still don’t have anything nice to say to math?”

“If he’s holding his breath for an apology, then good, because he’ll be dead soon and I’ll never have to look at another equation again.”

I put a hand over my chest. “Harsh.”

“As for the messenger…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not looking directly at me but more in my general direction. “Thanks, Ryder. You’re a surprisingly good teacher.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, basking in the jolt of pleasure hearing my name on her lips brought on and ignoring the “surprisingly.” I didn’t mind blunt or honest. I’d rather that than play a guessing game, although Lindsay was still a mystery. In the moments she laughed and fired off those quick comebacks, I was sure she felt the same spark I did, but before she let herself fully enjoy it, she’d quickly pull away. Almost like she was forever playing defense, and as a guy who specialized in that, I supposed I was just foolish enough to think I could break through if I found the right play.

“So, if a girl was in need of a tutor, how would she go about figuring out if she could even make it work with what I assume is a hectic, hockey-filled schedule?”

There was my opening, and I planned to charge through with all the grace of a bull in heat. “Hypothetically speaking, if said girl was you, I’d find a way to fit you into my schedule, no matter how hectic. It would probably also be easier if we exchanged numbers, but I’m not going to hold you to giving yours to me. Even though my tutoring skills are obviously off the hook.”

As she fought the smile that clearly wanted to break free, she tapped the end of her pencil on the desk, the tapping noise causing Brittany to look our way and scowl, although Lindsay didn’t seem to notice.

“A deal’s a deal.” She handed her phone to me, the cursor blinking in the section for the phone number. “Plus, it would be handy to have a way to contact mymath tutor.”

I didn’t miss the way she’d emphasized those words, but I didn’t let it phase me. I inputted my number and then texted myself so I’d have hers.

And with a little extra persistence, this D-man just scored…

Chapter Three

Lindsay

I’d always claimed that no matter how good the teacher was, I’d never understand math, and that was all there was to it. Up until the other night, that’d been true. It wasn’t like I suddenly understood everything about algebra—as convenient as that’d be—but I’d be lying if I said that Ryder’s tutoring session was like every other one I’d experienced.

For one, I’d never been so aware of every inch of my tutor, from the ridiculously blue eyes to the thigh that’d pressed against mine every time he’d leaned in to explain a concept to the toes that tapped out a rhythm while waiting for me to solve the problem. Somehow it’d been soothing instead of annoying, like he was perfectly happy to be there patiently waiting to provide help whenever I needed it.

And for two, even when I did need help, he never made me feel stupid.

Still, I shouldn’t actually text him to see when we could do it again, even if I’d gotten every homework answer right, which had never happened before. I’d already learned my lesson about guys I was so wildly attracted to that my common sense took a vacation. Getting burned hurt, and a big no thanks to going through that again.

Icontrolled my interactions with guys. I didn’t rely on them for anything and that made me stronger and more focused. All things I needed to be to survive my last semester.

I returned my attention to the computer screen in front of me, scrutinizing the layout for the next edition of theHeights. Whitney’s article called to me, and I clicked on it. Over the past several months she’d become a great sports writer, and as I read her words I could vividly picture the game. Could smell the ice, feel the chilly air in the arena on my skin, hear the zing of skates, and that loud slap hockey sticks made when players fought for control of the puck.

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