Page 2 of Wilder Puck
Fantasizing about my best friend, Ryan Wilder, has got to be the funniest yet most awkward thing ever.
He’ll ask me to rate his abs, and I have no choice but togladlycheck him out.
I start screaming on the inside, internally kicking my feet, because yes, he is hot, and yes, I have permission to look. But I have to remind him that he’s not all that and I’ve seen better.
Most days, he’ll lean in to kiss my cheek to say goodbye, and then I’ll start daydreaming about turning my head just a little to meet his lips.
One time I accidentally did, and we laughed and laughed about that one time we almost kissed. Like it was the funniest thing in the world.Hehe, haha, Ryan, that was disgusting. I would never want to kiss you.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Meanwhile…
Yes!
Freaking!
Way!
I, Addison Christina Montgomery, would melt his hockey stick if given the chance. I would let him slide his puck right into this hole. Wow, I took that far. I love that visual for me. But it’s not something I think about that often, however, it is a thought sometimes.
Sometimes I want to shout,send your puck into this net, Ry. It’s even worse that he’s the goaltender, known as the China Wall in the NHL, cockblocking me with every chance he gets.
“Baddie,” Ryan rips me from my daydream. Melting his hockey stick would be quite the scene right now. After all, we are best friends. “Do you knowwhyyou’re my best friend?”
His tone is playful and boyish as he sips the coffee I made for him. I named a drink after him,Cryin’ Ryan, at the coffee shop I own.
As I look at him, it’s moments like these that I deeply wonder why I am his best friend. I mean, I get it. I’m fun, cool, simple, and laugh at his jokes. But we’re quite the opposite. He’s a cinnamon roll, and I am definitely not that. I’m along the lines of an ice cube.
When I look at him, he has that fresh crispiness to him. It’s all that cold air in the hockey rink that leaves him looking like he’s got a fresh suntan.
“Because you support me,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.
I sit down on the chair next to him and sip myBaddie Addiecoffee. “That’s why you’re my best friend actually,” I say to him.
Immediately his eyes are staring into mine. “But it’s different. Your idea of support is more of like words, not so much of anything else.”
I laugh. “Because anything else is inappropriate.” He’s referring to money. And only money. If I need help moving my couch, I definitely request his effort.
He leans forward, finishing off his coffee. The scent of his fresh shower on his skin.
I continue, “Plus, you’re referring tomywords, too. I don’t do anything else.”
“You show up to all my games.”
I shrug, holding my coffee. “You come to my coffee shop.”
“And you don’t let me pay,” he counters.
“And you shouldn’t have to.”
He smiles. “This was meant to be an appreciation moment between two friends, not an argument.”
I lean back and hide my smirk because right…he’s appreciating our friendship. Meanwhile, I worship it. I want the next level. At least I think I do.
