Page 23 of Puck'N Enemy
9
Logan
I scan the crowd in the cafeteria, looking for a glimpse of Dylan.
It’s almost become a habit to gaze around my surroundings, no matter where I am. Whether it’s the cafeteria, the quad, or the stands, I’m always searching for him.
Every time I hear the shuffle of shoes behind me, I half expect to turn around and find Dylan. He’d probably be in one of his black hoodies, with shoulders hunched, and moss-green eyes staring directly at me.
But there’s been nothing. I haven’t seen him in over a week, and it’s starting to bother me.
“How’re you doing, Captain?” a sultry, feminine voice whispers in my ear.
“Fine,” I mutter, glaring at the half-eaten burger on my plate.
It’s lunch time at the moment and I’m surrounded by my teammates and a group of puck bunnies. Laughter rings out at the table from time to time, punctuating the sound of music that’s blaring from someone’s portable speaker.
“You’re sexy when you brood,” Lisa says, pushing between me and Mitchikov. She secures her place beside me and places a flirty kiss on my cheek.
I instinctively gaze around me, wondering if Dylan caught that act.
Stop being so damn stupid, I chide at myself mentally.He has no right to care whether a girl kisses you or fucks you.
“How about I catch up with you later, babe?” I say, forcing myself to grin at Lisa. “Right now, I need to talk about some serious team business with Mitchikov.”
The sound of his name makes him glance in my direction.
“Did you say something to me just now?” Mitchikov asks, looking utterly clueless.
“Yeah,” I say, gesturing toward a quieter corner of the cafeteria. “I need to tell you something.”
He grins, his eyes shining with excitement. “Ohh...sounds intriguing!”
“You’re leaving already?” Lisa pouts at me. “I was hoping we could go out to dinner tonight.”
“Give him a break, Lisa,” Mitchikov mutters. “Dude’s still on the mend.”
Her pout turns into a frown as I leave the table and walk away. She’s a queen bee and hates it when she’s not the center of attention.
It’s almost a relief to be stepping away from her.
“So, what is it?” Mitchikov asks as I lead the way out of the cafeteria.
I don’t stop to answer him until we reach a lone spot outside the cafeteria doors.
“I need a favor,” I say.
“Let me guess,” Mitchikov says, chuckling. “That kid’s still bothering you?”
My spine tenses. “What kid?”
He snorts. “The Bear. Larson or something. The guy you stopped me from beating the shit out of at the food court. Did he narc on us? Did Coach Sullivan say something to you?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t seen him around.”
Mitchikov quirks an eyebrow. “Why do you look so disappointed about that? Do youwanthim hanging around us?”
I don’t answer him.
