Font Size
Line Height

Page 44 of My Pucked Up Neighbor

"To not getting fined tomorrow!" James echoes.

"To the fact that Mandy keeps showing up and hasn’t run away yet," I add, lifting my glass toward her.

She clinks it with mine. "I like a challenge...and my new study digs."

"Careful," I murmur. "I do too and you're welcome. It's safer than walking home alone at night."

Her eyes flick up. Just for a second. But it lands like a hit to the chest.

Kira chimes in. "Safer? Maybe in some respects, but not others."

Mandy elbows her and Kira chuckles.

Twenty minutes later, the table’s a mix of laughter and overlapping conversations. Kira is talking Priya into crashing the guys’ next charity skate. Haley and Grace are plotting a girls’ brunch. I catch Mandy watching me over her drink, her lips curved like she’s in on a secret I haven’t been told.

"Come here," I say quietly, standing.

She blinks. "Where?"

"Just…" I gesture toward another room in the back. "Trust me."

She grabs her drink and follows without hesitation, weaving through the crowd. We end up in a room with a pool table and high top tables. This room is calmer. No loud laughs or beer sloshing across tables like the front. Just a pool table, a few high tops, and enough space to breathe. It’s dim, quiet in that low-key way that says you can take your time here. Run a game. Nurse a drink. Watch without being watched.

"What’s up?" she asks.

"I needed five minutes without James narrating our body language."

"He’s observant."

"He’s a menace."

I step closer. Not too close. But close enough that I can smell her perfume. Her eyes catch mine. She doesn’t look away.

"Hey," I say, scratching the back of my neck. "Can I show you something?"

She raises a brow. "Show me what?"

"You’ll see. It’s stupid. But also not." I take a folded piece of paper out of my wallet.

She gives me a look. "If this ends in a magic trick, I’m walking."

I laugh. "Not quite. I, uh, I remembered something earlier when you were talking about liking a challenge."

She tilts her head. "Yeah?"

"When I got traded here, I made this list. Stupid goals. Like, get to know the local pizza guy, don’t punch any teammates in the first week, stuff like that."

"Reasonable."

"One of them was: Don’t get distracted." I point that out on the list and then fold the paper up again and put it away.

She arches a brow. "And how’s that going?"

I smirk. "Terribly. Because now every time I see you, I forget what the hell I was doing five minutes earlier."

She pauses. Her breath fogs between us. "That’s... a line."

"It’s also the truth."

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.