Page 10 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Lindsay’s automatic refusal was written across her features, and while I was far from into Shakespeare, disappointment rose up.

But then Megan added, “They’re doingTwelfth Night.”

A light hit Lindsay’s eye—longing if I had to guess.Time to slam my way through that tiny opening.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.” I covered Lindsay’s hand with mine. “Watch me impress you with my psychic skills…” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “I sense that you like that play. And that while you’re thinking of how much stuff you need to get done, going might prove to me that you don’t actually have a grudge against fun.”

Lindsay tilted her head and gave me a saucy look that only made my heart beat harder. “I think you’re overestimating how much I care about proving stuff to you.”

“It’s also free,” Megan added. “And I could use another girl along. Dane’s willing to try these Boston outings with me, but sometimes he doesn’t fully appreciate really good music or things like Shakespeare.”

“Oh, we’re taking my car, and I’m playing my music,” Dane said. “That’s part of the deal.”

While they started arguing about the merits of One Direction, and Megan said something about how he’d made a promise he couldn’t simply go back on because he didn’t realize she’d take him up on it, I turned to Lindsay.

“I’m down for trying something new. And I think they might kick you out of the English program if you refuse to attend a Shakespeare play. Is that a risk you really want to take?”

Lindsay ran a hand through her hair and then toyed with the ends. “I do have a thing for the Bard. EspeciallyTwelfth Night. It’s my favorite play of his, and I heard that company is amazing. It’s actually been on my bucket list of things to do here, but the shows always happen when I’m back home for the summer.”

“That settles it. We did the math, and now it’s time for a fun outing, as per our arrangement.” I closed her textbook then scooped it and her notebook up. I stood and extended my hand. For a moment I thought she’d leave me hanging, but then she slapped her palm in mine.

I tugged her to me and shot her a big grin. “Shakespeare here we come.”

Chapter Six

Lindsay

Confession #4:Besides hockey players, classic literature is one of my weaknesses.

*side note:some people assume puck bunnies, former or not, are vapid girls who only care about landing a player, but few people are that one-dimensional.

I’ve always maintained a high GPA, always worked hard. I didn’t get to be the editor of the college paper by sitting on my butt and going from party to party.

Which I suppose isn’t so much a confession, but more of clearing up misconceptions.

Since literature never let me down the way people had, I decided that it’d be okay to drop my guard—just a little—to be spontaneous and join Ryder, Dane, and Megan on their outing. Because it was Twelfth freaking Night, performed by a company who dedicated themselves to Shakespeare, and Ryder and I had abusinessarrangement that included fun outings.

Of course I hadn’t taken into account how small the seats in the theater would be. They could hardly contain a guy Ryder’s size, meaning his thigh was flush with mine, and his big hand was draped on our shared armrest, just begging to be grabbed.

Even back in the day when I was better at the flirting thing, I’d never been a hand holder, so I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t stop imagining what it’d feel like to slide my hand into his. This close I got a whiff of the soapy scent plus cedar and mint combo I’d noticed in the diner when he helped me with my homework. He smelled like a freshly scrubbed lumberjack, and I wanted to take a taste. Just a tiny one.

Oh, Lindsay, how’d you let yourself get into this position again?The curtain rose, and as the familiar story played out onstage, I remembered—I’d been under the influence of literature.

During my childhood, I’d often escaped into stories. Every time I had to meet a new temporary and unofficial stepdad. Each time I moved and started over as the loner kid in school. No matter how foreign and uncomfortable my physical address, I found a home in fictional worlds. The characters inside the pages didn’t judge me, the endings were almost always happy, and if they weren’t, they left my heart ripped out in a way I craved to repeat, as illogical as that was.

I leaned forward, soaking in the roles the actors played perfectly.

At one point, I went to rest my hand on the armrest, only to find Ryder’s warm skin instead of cold plastic. Our eyes met, then he turned his palm up and curled those long fingers around mine.

My heart skipped a couple of beats, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. Not with the intense scene where Viola, dressed as Cesario, is challenged to a duel unfolding in front of us.

And maybe it just felt nice to be touched after a long time of keeping my distance from pretty much everyone. I hadn’t meant to isolate myself, but I had, and it felt good to hold Ryder’s hand. To see Dane and Megan cuddling on the other side of him—the way they playfully argued and constantly kissed unleashed an inner longing I tried to pretend no longer existed.

Ryder leaned in, his hand tightening around mine, and whispered, “Okay, I have no clue what’s going on, and I’m pretty sure they’re talking gibberish. I might need you to tutor me on Shakespeare.”

During the short intermission, I explained as much as I could. Since I swung my arms around as I explained, I’d let go of his hand, and I told myself it was for the best. I didn’t think very clearly whenever we were touching.

Here and there throughout the next few scenes I whispered mini explanations to Ryder, careful to not interrupt the performance for the people around us. Which meant being close enough my lips nearly touched his ear, my body pressing against his firm shoulder.

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