Page 46 of Hockey Halloween

Paisley

Gunther blinks once. Then twice. Like he’s rebooting. Honestly, I can’t believe I just asked him to be my pretend boyfriend .

I came to this party to move on from the hopeless crush I’ve carried around since middle school like a backpack full of bricks. A guy who shattered my heart the night I finally worked up the courage to tell him I liked him… and he turned around and left with Suzy-freaking-Sizemore .

I got the message loud and clear.

Because out of every girl at that party, he picked her. My former best friend turned high school it-girl, who ditched me the second she got a flat iron and a fan club. I was the chubby girl she left behind. The sidekick turned invisible.

But time did its thing. I grew up. I shed the weight, the braces, and the glasses. I found a little confidence. And maybe—just maybe—I held onto the tiniest shred of hope that someday, Gunther might actually look at me and see me. Not just his buddy. Me .

Tonight when I was talking to Jaxon, I noticed the way Gunther was watching us, like he wanted to launch Jaxon into the next zip code. Yeah, that was new. Weird. But also... encouraging .

Then Melanie swooped in, all smug and knowing, and said, “Go for it.”

I nearly choked on the eyeball-shaped grape I was chewing.

She sawit too. I mean, come on, who doesn’tknow how I feel about Gunther at this point?

I basically have a PhD in pining. I visit as often as I can.

I’ve gotten close with his friends. I’ve never said the words out loud, but these women aren’t dumb.

Melanie’s a psychologist, for crying out loud.

She reads feelings like I read romance novels—fast and with full emotional commitment.

So when she said the only way to get Gunther to own up to his feelings was to make him jealous, I laughed it off. Obviously. That’s the kind of thing you read in a YA love triangle. But then...

Tamara.

I asked her, just for fun, about my future. And she said: “The wolf howls tonight, not for the hunt, but for the heart. You’ve already tamed him, my dear. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

I mean, what was I supposed to do with that?

A part of me wonders if Melanie and Tamara teamed up, plotting behind my back like matchmaking witches with glittery intentions. Probably not. But maybe that’s just my fear trying to claw its way out. Because if I screw this up... I don’t just lose a fantasy. I lose him.

But… I didtell him how I felt back in high school.

It didn’t ruin our friendship. Sure, it wrecked my heart, left it in pieces sharp enough to shred every diary page I’d ever written his name on.

But we survived. And honestly, I never blamed him.

You can’t force someone to feel something they don’t.

But tonight… Tonight, I’m putting everything on the line again. Not just for love—okay, yes, definitely for love—but also for that flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could see me as something more than the chubby girl from our awkward teenage years.

I never would’ve dared to try this if I hadn’t caught that look—pure jealousy—flashing in his eyes.

If Melanie hadn’t whispered,‘ go for it’ , like she was handing me a permission slip, or if Tamara hadn’t said that whole poetic bit about the wolf and the full moon.

I mean, come on, she had to be talking about Gunther, right ?

God. Am I really doing this?

“I…uh, what?” he finally stammers, pushing back against the sink like he’s trying to disappear into it.

“You know. Like in those rom-coms,” I say, my voice breezy while my heart is racing like I just sprinted a marathon. “You pretend to be my boyfriend, Jaxon gets jealous, realizes he wants me, swoops in, we fake a breakup—boom, happily ever after.”

Gunther’s expression twists. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

A spike of panic slithers through me, but I tilt my head, keep my tone light. “Why not?”

He reaches up, scratching that scar near his ear. Classic Gunther nervous tic. Crap. This wasn’t supposed to stresshim out. I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip him into anything. I just wanted him to see me—to really see me.

“I mean, we’re teammates,” he says, voice higher than usual. “Jaxon might not want to cross that line. Might think it’s bad form.”

I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Right. Makes sense.” I throw out a casual laugh—too loud, too fake. “No big deal. I’ll ask someone else. Roman’s always up for an adventure.”

I turn to go. I haveto. This isn’t going as planned and I’ve upset him.

But then his hand wraps around my arm. Firm. Warm. Intentional. He pulls me back, and I crash softly against his chest. He sucks in a sharp, quick breath, and my heart slamsinto my ribs as I spot heat in his eyes.

Deep breaths. Keep going. Because m aybe Melanie and Tamara weren’t so crazy after all.

“Not Roman,” he growls, low and tight through clenched teeth.

Was there a part of me that knewdropping Roman’s name would unleash the beast in Gunther?

Yeah. Probably. I’ve seen what happens when Roman turns on that lethal smile—how the puck bunnies practically line up for a chance.

And I’ve seen Gunther watch it happen. His jaw tightens.

His eyes darken. Roman brings out something primal in him.

So yeah, maybe Ididknow. Maybe tonight, I’m throwing every Hail Mary I’ve got. Because if this plan doesn’t crack open whatever’s locked behind Gunther’s walls… then maybe it’s time I let go.

“I’ll do it,” he says, low and gruff.

I blink. “Really?”

He nods, and I throw my arms around him before I can think better of it. “Thank you, Gunther. Seriously, this means so much to me.”

His body goes stiff at first, like he doesn’t know what to do with me. But then his arms wrap around my back. Not just a polite hug. A pull. A claim . My hips press flush against him and?—

Wait.

What... is that ?

Oh boy .

I ease back, my face on fire but my voice steady. “Okay, so if we’re going to pull this off, you need to act like you like me.”

His eyes narrow, and his voice drops a register. “Ido like you, Paisley.”

I freeze for the briefest of seconds, then realize what he’s saying. “I mean, yeah.” I force a casual laugh. “As a friend, sure. But for this to be believable, you need to touch me like we’re, you know… lovers.”

He swallows so hard I can practically hear it. “Lovers.”

“Exactly,” I say, trying to keep it playful as I take his hand and place it gently on my waist. “You have to touch me… like this. And lean in. Whisper. Laugh.” I lean forward, close enough that my breath tickles his ear, and I let out a soft, suggestive laugh.

His entire body shudders .

Wow, this might actually be easier than I thought.

And then he shifts, pressing his hips against mine.

Or rather… harder than I thought.

The little Wonder Woman skirt he’s wearing is not doing him any favors right now.

But it’s definitely benefitting me. That thought sparks a nervous laugh from me, and Gunther takes a subtle step back, his dark eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to read my every thought.

I risk a glance at the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, eyes wide with want and maybe something more .

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

I take a fast moment to consider exactly what’s happening here.

The truth is I’m a woman. He’s very much a man.

A very hot man in his prime. And bodies, when pressed together like this, tend to react.

It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s into me…

but what if this moment—this insane, bold plan—is the spark that makes himseewhat we could be?

“I’m good,” I say, sounding steadier than I feel. “I just… I want to get this right.”

I pucker my lips and flutter my lashes. “I mean, who knows when I’ll get another chance, you know?”

He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “Yeah. I know. We leave for Dallas on Monday.” His grip on my hip tightens, his eyes flicking to mine. “I get it.”

“So… we need to be comfortable. With touching. With intimacy.”

His jaw flexes hard, muscles rippling under the skin like he’s waging a silent war with himself.

I start to second-guess everything. Maybe I’m pushing too far.

Maybe I should back off. I’m about to push away, but stop when his hand slides up, skimming along my hip…

the side of my breast. Every nerve ending lights up.

If he looks down, he’ll seewhat he’s doing to me. The thin fabric of this dress isn’t hiding much, and my body’s broadcasting every secret loud and clear. A small, breathy sound escapes me, completely involuntary, completely revealing.

If he didn’t know before, he must now.

Is this where he stops? Where he pulls away and tells me we’ve crossed a line?

But instead, his hand rises to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, warm and steady. Possessive. Here we go. I tilt my face toward him, heart hammering. He leans in slowly, eyes locked on my lips, his breath warm and uneven across my skin.

“How’s this?” he murmurs, voice deep and rough with something that feels suspiciously like need.

My hands find his back, fingers curling into solid muscle. I press closer, and I knowhe can feel the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat crashing into his chest.

This is it. We’ve passed the point of no return.

“This…” I whisper, breath shaky, “…this is perfect. No one will question it.”

His lips drift closer, heat pulsing between us. “If we’re going to do this,” he begins. “We’re going to do it right. You know I’m competitive. I don’t half-ass anything.”

My breath catches. “What… what do you have in mind?”

His mouth is barely a breath away now. “Kissing,” he says, like a promise.

I shrug casually, even though there’s a storm raging inside me. “I mean… we should probably get used to it. Who knows if we’ll have to do it… out there.”

The moment the words leave my lips, his mouth is on mine. No hesitation. No warning.

Just heat.

His lips move over mine, slow at first, soft and searching, like a secret shared in the dark. My brain stutters, then shuts off entirely. When I let out the faintest moan, a groan rumbles low in his throat, and his tongue finds mine, tangling, teasing, tasting.

Holy God.

I shift closer, hips shamelessly pressing into him, needing more. Needing everything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that I might be moving too fast. But if he gets uncomfortable, I’ll just claim total commitment to the plan. Method acting. Emotional urgency.Whatever works .

His hands slide down.

Lower.

Oh.

Both hands grip my butt, strong and possessive, and then he lifts me slightly off the ground, grinding into me. Okay, so apparently, I’m not moving too fast after all.

My hips roll against his, friction and heat driving me straight out of my mind as I practically dry hump him. Fine, there’s no “practically” about it at all. I am dry humping Gunther up against the damn sink like we’re in some kind of fever dream, and I don’t want to wake up.

But then swiftly, his lips rip from mine, and I’m suddenly awake. Wide awake. His hands clamp down on my shoulders, and he gently but firmly sets me back.

Cold air rushes between us.

No.

No, no, no— please tell me I didn’t just completely misread all of this.

I stare up at him, breath coming in short gasps, my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear.

Knock knock.

“How long are you going to be?”

A voice from the hallway.

That’s when it clicks.

The door.

The one I never thought to lock.

And that voice…Roman.

My brain catches up all at once.That’s why Gunther pulled away. Not because he regretted it. Not because he didn’t want it. But because?—

“We’re about to be interrupted,” he mutters, voice hoarse as he swallows hard.

“Roman,” I manage to get out, sounding breathless as I glance toward the door. My body is still thrumming, my skin tingling, my dress—somewhere around my hips .

“We should probably go,” I say, trying to find my legs beneath me.

He nods, but neither of us moves. Roman’s knock at the door breaks the stillness, and I jump into action. I smooth my hair down with shaky fingers and twist the faucet, letting the water run cold as I press my hands to my flushed cheeks.

In the mirror, I catch Gunther adjusting himself, and a smile nearly escapes. I bite my lip, trying to keep it hidden. But the truth is, the sight makes me giddy because I did that to him.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles .

“I wasn’t laughing.” I try to keep a straight face, but it’s hopeless. “Okay, I was. Totally was. Sorry. It’s not funny.”

The doorknob turns and Gunther shoots into action. “Hang on,” he calls out, reaching under his skirt to adjust himself properly. “A damn Wonder Woman suit. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you wanted to win karaoke.”

“That’s a given when you’re singing with me.”

The compliment lands like a soft caress, and my heart flutters in my chest. Gunther’s always been so damn supportive of me, my career, my dreams. He’s never wavered even when my parents weren’t sure.

“Dude, hurry up.” Roman’s voice breaks through the quiet.

“We’ll be right out,” I say before I can stop myself. Dammit. Roman’s going to readinto that. But then again, does it even matter?

A beat passes, then Roman’s voice, teasing. “What are you two doing in there, Gunther? Don’t tell me you’re…”

“Give me a second,” Gunther interrupts, trying to regain control of the situation.

Roman snorts from the other side. “A second? Sorry, Paisley, but if you want more than a second, I can help you out with that.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Gunther mutters under his breath, but there’s a softness in his voice, a flicker of something tender that curls around me and hugs tight.

He looks at me with care in his eyes, soft and protective.

“You good?” His words are simple, but the depth behind them is what makes my heart stumble.

I nod, swallowing against the sudden rush of emotion. “I’m good,” I say quietly, even though my pulse is still racing.

Gunther tugs open the door and steps aside, giving me space to leave. I step out into the hallway, only to catch Roman’s grin as he leans against the doorframe.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he says with a wink.

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” Gunther snaps, shoving him into the bathroom, and slamming the door shut.

And then his knuckles brush against mine, warm and familiar. The tenderness on his face hasn’t completely faded, but now there’s something else there, something steely in his eyes. His teeth clench, and he asks in a low, careful voice, “You still want to go get your guy?”

I nod, heart pounding, but I don’t say the words that are burning on my tongue. “I still want to get my guy,” I say softly, leaving out the part that he’s the guy I plan to get.