Page 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nick
The smell of fresh coffee fills the car, rich and comforting in the crisp morning air. The two cups sit snugly in the holder, their steam curling lazily upward and fogging the windshield just slightly.
I take a deep breath, letting the aroma wake me up. The roads are still relatively quiet, the early hour lending a calm to the city that rarely lasts.
I glance at the clock on the dash. Plenty of time to get to practice, but I still hate being late for anything.
The phone buzzes on the passenger seat. A quick glance at the screen shows Tiffany Perez’s name, complete with a kiss emoji, lighting up the display.
At the next red light, I lean over to read the message.
What are you up to later? I could come over…
I roll my eyes, my fingers brushing the screen as if I might reply, but I don’t.
Instead, I toss the phone back onto the seat, the screen flipping facedown as if that will silence the nagging thought she’s planted in my head.
The light turns green, and I ease onto the accelerator, the soft purr of the engine filling the quiet. Tiffany’s text lingers in my mind, though, sparking a string of questions I wasn’t prepared for this early in the day.
Tiff’s fun, no doubt about that. Sexy, fiery, and always up for a good time. But the idea of her coming over later doesn’t fill me with the excitement it once did.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping grounding me as I turn onto a wider street, the skyline of Minneapolis coming into view.
What do I even want?
The question catches me off guard, slipping into my thoughts uninvited. For a long time, the answer was simple: fun, no strings attached, someone to help fill the time. Someone to distract me.
But lately, that answer isn’t cutting it anymore.
I glance at the coffee cups and let out a sigh. Maybe I’m just getting old.
Growing up, Tyler and I shared everything. Our childhood bedroom, our first car, and later, the endless stream of puck bunnies who floated in and out of our lives like party favors.
It was easy, fun, and we never thought twice about it.
But now? Now it feels…exhausting.
The constant merry-go-round of girls at clubs, names I barely remember the next day, shallow conversations that go nowhere—it’s all starting to feel empty. Vapid.
I’m not like Tyler. I never have been.
He’s the hunter, the guy who locks onto his target and doesn’t stop until he’s got what he wants.
I’m more careful—slower to make decisions, slower to jump into things.
Which is probably why this change feels natural. Even if I’m not sure what to do with it yet.
My thoughts drift to Ally.
From the moment she walked into the locker room, she’s been stuck in my head. Her bright blue eyes, her shy smile, the way she carries herself with quiet confidence, it’s magnetic.
I picture her again, imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to run my hands through her blonde hair, to feel her soft lips against mine. The thought sends a jolt through me, equal parts thrilling and frustrating.
Because Tyler’s already made his move.
Typical.
He always has to stake his claim first, like he’s calling dibs. And with Ally, it feels wrong.
She’s not some puck bunny. She’s entirely different from the girls we’re used to.
And yet, Tyler treated her like just another conquest the other night.
The coffee cups rattle slightly in their holders as I grip the steering wheel tighter, my frustration simmering.
I turn into our neighborhood, the houses lined with old oaks and maples, their leaves starting to turn golden with the season. Pulling into the driveway, I tap the horn lightly, glancing up at the house. No movement.
I honk again, this time laying on the horn for a few good seconds.
The front door swings open, and Tyler steps out, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder. His hair is a mess, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed.
“What the hell’s your problem?” he calls, his tone irritated but not serious.
“You said you’d be ready,” I shoot back, leaning out the window with a mockingly sweet smile.
Tyler flips me off as he jogs down the steps, tossing his bag into the backseat with a heavy thud before climbing into the passenger seat. “I am ready,” he mutters, slamming the door and adjusting his seatbelt.
“Suuure you are, big guy,” I reply, giving him my most assholish grin.
He scowls, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
As I back out of the driveway, I try to push Ally out of my mind, but it’s no use.
For now, though, practice calls, and I have no choice but to focus on the ice.
I take another sip of my coffee. The bitter edge of the brew does its job, chasing away the last traces of grogginess as I steer us toward the rink.
“Tiffany texted me,” I say, breaking the stillness as I set the coffee cup back in its holder.
Tyler’s head swivels toward me, a smirk already forming on his lips. “And? Let me guess, you’re finally over her.”
I snort, shaking my head with a grin. “Completely. The second her name popped up on my phone, I realized I couldn’t care less.”
Tyler tips his head back and laughs, his voice filling the truck. “Funny you say that, bro. She texted me too, and I felt exactly the same way. Like, instant nope.”
I glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” he replies, his smirk softening into something almost contemplative. “Tiff’s fun and all, but…” His voice trails off, and I don’t need him to finish the sentence to know where his mind is.
“You’re thinking about Ally, aren’t you?” I ask, keeping my tone casual even as the words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
Tyler’s silence confirms it. He nods, looking almost sheepish, and for a moment, I want to reach over and smack him. But I can’t blame him, not really.
Because Ally’s been running through my mind, too.
The light ahead turns red, and I slow to a stop, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. The car idles, the engine a low, steady hum as the silence between us stretches.
“Do you think Ally would want to be with the two of us?” I ask, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.
Tyler shrugs, but a confident grin spreads across his face. “Why not? I’ve never met a girl who didn’t fall for my charm.”
I roll my eyes, reaching over to punch his shoulder. “ Our charm, jackass.”
Tyler laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Our charm. Happy now?”
“Not really,” I mutter, though a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
The light turns green, and the car lurches forward as I press on the gas. The streets blur past, but my thoughts remain fixed on the impossible idea of Ally being with both of us.
It’s crazy, sure, but not entirely out of reach.
“Well,” I say, shaking my bandaged hand in the air for emphasis, “since I can’t play right now, I guess I’ll take over for you and try to win her over during practice.”
Tyler rolls his eyes, leaning back with a smirk. “You? Win her over? Hate to break it to you, bro, but I don’t think you’ve got what it takes.”
“Oh, please,” I shoot back, giving him a mock glare. “If anyone’s up for the challenge, it’s me. I don’t need to rely on cheap tricks and bad pickup lines.”
“Cheap tricks?” Tyler exclaims, clutching his chest dramatically, like I’ve just mortally wounded him. “You wound me, brother.”
The banter comes easily, the irritation from earlier fading as laughter fills the cab. Tyler throws his hands up in mock defeat, and I can’t help but grin.
“Just wait,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ll see.”
“Sure, Nick,” Tyler replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t wait to watch you crash and burn.”
The skyline of Minneapolis looms closer as we turn off the freeway, the sun catching on the glass windows of skyscrapers and casting streaks of light across the road.
We pull into the rink’s parking where and I swing my car into a spot near the entrance, and Tyler grabs his bag from the backseat with a grunt.
As we walk toward the doors, the crisp morning air bites at our faces, the chill cutting through even our heavy jackets. Tyler nudges me with his elbow, his grin sly.
“So, you really think you’ve got a shot with her?”
I glance at him, a grin spreading across my face. “Let’s make it interesting.”
Tyler raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?”
“A bet,” I say, stopping just outside the doors. “Whoever gets to sleep with her first has to do the other’s laundry for twelve weeks. Deal?”
Tyler laughs, his breath visible in the cold morning air. “Twelve weeks? Damn, you’re confident.” He extends his hand, his grin widening. “Deal.”
We shake on it, the weight of the bet settling between us. Tyler’s smug confidence only makes me more determined.
“Better start buying detergent,” I say, pushing open the door and stepping into the warmth of the rink.
“Funny,” Tyler replies, following me inside. “I was just about to say the same thing.”
The familiar scent of the rink hits me as we walk through the halls, a mix of fresh ice and the tang of sweat and gear.
The locker room is buzzing with the usual pre-practice energy, players talking strategy and lacing up skates.
Practice is about to start, and with that, the bet is on.