Page 8 of Down to Puck

And they certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about hockey players.

“Emerson’s only had one serious head injury. We’re still waiting on the scans, but I don’t think he has a TBI. And —what?” I stop talking when I feel Skylar laughing next to me.

“Dad doesn’t mean it literally, dork. It’s worse than that. It’s like they love hockey so much that there isn’t room for anything else in their lives. Trust me, I know.” The laughter dies on Skylar’s lips. When she turns to look at me again, her eyes are dark and serious. “If you want his attention, you’re going to have to grab it with both hands.”

I slump down lower against the door.

“How in the world am I supposed to do that?” I sigh. “It’s not like I have a lot of dating experience.”

A lifetime of being repressed doesn’t make for very smooth social interactions. I tried flirting once. The memory still haunts me at three in the morning when I can’t sleep.

“Okay, well, I’m no expert—” she raises an eyebrow when I snort out a laugh, but doesn’t argue.

Skylar is in the same boat as I am. The Coach’s daughter is always off-limits, whether she likes it or not. But somehow, even my bestie with her overprotective parents and quarterback big brother manages to be less of a romantic disaster than I am.

“You are capable of flirting,” I point out. “Nothing burns down when you ask for a guy’s number. You’re clearly better at this than me.”

Skylar elbows me in the side.

“First of all, that was one time, Yasmín. I promise you, not every first date ends in a grease fire.”

I sniff.

“You sound more like my therapist every day,” I mumble.

“Good, I’m glad. Apparently, you need to hear it more than once.” Sky gets up and reaches a hand out to me. “I swear, Yas, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

I let her pull me to my feet.

“Takes one to know one,” I grin at her. “Dork.”

Skylar rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide her smile.

“Alright, let’s focus on the important things. Starting with how you’re going to bag Emerson Stone.” Skylar’s eyes light up as she pulls out her phone.

“I recognize that look, Sky. What are you doing?”

She doesn’t look up, nimble fingers darting across the screen.

“Being your wingman.” Skylar grins triumphantly. “There. I just told Dakota I can’t come back this afternoon. The only other person cleared to do PT is you, Doc. Guess who my afternoon appointment is?”

She looks so pleased with herself that it’s almost hard to get mad. Skylar is part of the physical therapy team. And while her specialty is massage therapy, her job also involves a lot of rehabilitation and hands-on manipulation.

I want nothing more than to manipulate Emerson’s strong, toned body with my bare hands. But there’s no way I can put both of our careers in jeopardy like that. Even if he’s willing to take the risk, I have no idea what to do.

“No. You didn’t—” I narrow my eyes at her. “Sky, I’m an introvert with social anxiety. The closest I’ve come to a serious relationship was that time the barista at the all-night coffee shop remembered my order.”

She throws her head back and laughs again

“I did. So,” Skyler is practically humming with excitement. “You can either call in sick— which we both know you’ve never done in your life. Or you can put on your tightest yoga pants and go get your man.”

The knot in my throat tightens.

“Sky, please.” Tears threaten again. “I’m going to ruin this. I’m un-girlfriendable.”

I shake my head, willing her to understand.

“You absolutely are not, Yas.” Skylar hauls me in for a tight hug. When she pulls away again, her eyes are misty with emotion. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you— like you’re the only woman in the world. It’s the same dopey expression Dad gets when Mom walks in the room.”

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