Page 55 of Anatomy of a Player

He shot me a look, his skepticism clear. “Name one famous NHL player. Besides Gretsky.”

Damn. I tried to remember the names from that charity game, but I’d thought for once I could simply relax and not worry about jersey numbers and names and positions. Plus Hudson had been distracting me then, too.

Still I opened my mouth like that would make one magically pop out. I knew it wouldn’t, though—after all, up until two seconds ago, I thought Gretsky was some dude with a lot of inspirational quotes.

“I knew it,” Hudson said, and he was smiling about it, which left me completely clueless on how to react. “You mix up the terms, you don’t know how long players are supposed to sit in the box when they get penalties, and you think that Casey Jones is an NHL player. Not only that, what you’re wearing tonight fits you more than the serious business stuff. It’s all starting to make sense.”

I could hardly deny it now, and the tiny, not-freaking-out side of me liked that he’d figured that out about me. “Okay, you got me. But experience in my career field is so hard to get, and all I’ve ever wanted to be is a real journalist, and I really need this job. I’m working to learn the hockey terms, and if anyone else on the team finds—”

“I won’t say anything. To anyone.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to mine, and despite my worries, I couldn’t help but sink into the kiss and let the tingly sensation traveling through my body take over. After all, this might be the last time I got the chance to kiss Hudson Decker—even if he was interested in doing this again, I certainly shouldn’t carry on whatever we’d started tonight.

When he pulled back, a tight band formed around my chest.

“Hey. Stop looking so worried.” Hudson ran this thumb across the line of my jaw. “You can trust me.”

Regret stole my breath and settled into my lungs. I wanted to trust him, and I wasn’t sure if I could, but how could I demand trustworthiness when I’d been playing him and the rest of the hockey team from the beginning?

Getting the chance to write this kind of article for my very first story was a huge opportunity served up on a silver platter, bright red bow tied on top. But that bow obviously had strings attached, and it didn’t look like a gift anymore.

It looked like the complication that might ruin everything.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hudson

My body balanced on that line between asleep and awake, when your brain was trying to start up and the rest of you begged it for a few more minutes.

Slowly my brain won the tug-of-war, and I opened my eyes. I’d stared at my desk countless times before—sometimes with disdain because of the hours of studying I’d attempted there. But this morning, I saw the ghost of a blue-haired girl, one of my dinosaur figurines in her hands.

I could feel the stupid grin stretching my lips, and I was glad there was no one around to witness it. Since there wasn’t, I went ahead and basked in last night’s memories for a moment.

Something had definitely shifted between us, and while I knew I wouldn’t suddenly become boyfriend material, I knew I wanted to spend more time kissing Whitney.

Last night I’d barely beat the guys back home, and I’d still been distracted with thoughts of her while Dane gave me a detailed recap of the game. Then he’d asked me if my weekend blew, with all of his usual tact. I’d wanted to tell him that it’d been one of the best weekends of my life—which was especially weird considering the lack of hockey. But I’d held back. Usually I told him most everything, so I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t said anything.

Probably because I knew there’d be questions. How I’d convinced her to come over. If I’d slept with her. The bet would get thrown into the mix and it’d ruin what the night had really been—one amazing, perfect night I hadn’t wanted to end.

Speaking of wants, more than anything I wanted to forget the stupid bet existed in the first place. For the most part, I did, because when I was with Whitney it was the last thing on my mind. Every time I thought about it, though, self-loathing climbed up and sat on my chest.I never should’ve made that stupid bet.

I’d tell Dane that it was off, but he’d never let it drop. He’d ask why and push and push, and then he’d be watching every interaction I had with Whitney. That’d put her secret at risk, and she was so sure that if anyone else found out, she’d lose her job. While I was sure I could convince him to keep it a secret, I’d sworn to her that I wouldn’t say anything, and I was going to keep that promise.

I could at least do that. I should probably do one better for her and end things before they went any further, but I was already in too deep, and now that I knew what it was like to kiss her, I wasn’t strong enough to walk away.

Better to just stuff back my happiness over everything that’d happened with Whitney and keep it to myself so I didn’t slip—and so I could hold on a little longer without everything else getting in the way and ruining it.

I stretched and my neck popped, like it had for years. Then I scooted to the end of my bed and rolled my ankle, wincing slightly as it warmed up. After a few circles it felt pretty good, so apparently I hadn’t totally wrecked it by going out last night.

It would’ve been worth extra days of pain anyway.

When I made it to the kitchen, there was no sign of my roommates, which meant they were sleeping off yesterday’s game and the jetlag that flying home late at night seemed to always bring, no matter how many Zs you caught on the plane.

The cool air of the freezer hit me as I opened the door, the smell making me think of being out on the ice. The first box of waffles only had a single, poorly wrapped one inside, so I shoved the frozen waffle puck in the toaster and reached for more. We were going to have to hit the grocery store soon.

I stuck three more in the toaster, depressed the button, then turned around to wait for them to cook. The note on the freezer caught my attention.

I’d tried not to look at it too much, because I was trying to do the right thing. Heaven knew I’d cheated plenty through the beginning of high school, when it was more about just getting through the day so I could play hockey. Then one of the guys on the team got caught and not only had he been suspended, they didn’t let him play for the rest of the season. So I’d decided it wasn’t worth the risk and suffered through the homework on my own after that.

I pushed off the counter and reached for the note, ready to rip it off, crumple it up, and toss it into the trash. For one, what was Dane thinking displaying it so that anyone could see it? Not that Coach or school officials swung by, but the evidence of having it out there made me nervous.

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