Page 60 of One-Time Shot

“The hockey player,” I replied, bristling at the inadequate description. He was far more than his sport to me.

“Oh, yes.” The older man chuckled. “That student’s reaction alone is the reason I know your thesis will be a smash hit. I imagine thousands of students will happily become unwittingly engrossed in physics by hockey proxy.”

My laugh was tinny and hollow, but the professor had moved on. There were papers to grade, a conference he was interested in attending, another he’d been asked to speak at. I hiked my bag on my shoulder and inched toward the door, hoping to signal an end to the conversation without resorting to tapping my watch.

My buzzing cell came to the rescue. “Sorry, Professor, but I have to take this.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Maloney.”

I moved into the hallway and peeked at the new message.

Call me. I’m getting on the bus in fifteen minutes. I have something to tell you.

I could do better than that. I was halfway across campus, heading for the rink, unthinking. Emphasis on unthinking. His teammates were used to seeing me around, but it would have been smarter and easier to call…especially since they were leaving.

It wasn’t like me to act impulsively. I blamed my interaction with the hockey-loving student who’d reminded me Jett and I were from different planets.

I stopped at the large elm on the path to the rink and scrolled his contact info.

“Yo, Maloney! Is that you?”

I glanced up at the handsome hockey player striding forward, a huge bag slung across his shoulder. I did my best to control my facial features, but his smile was contagious. It didn’t matter that I’d spent the night in his bed and woken up next to him, grumbling affectionately about blanket hogs and suggesting a game of rocks, paper, scissors to see who should have to make coffee—he lost, by the way. I just needed to see him.

Was this excessive? I couldn’t be sure anymore. I wanted him all the time. It was getting harder to pretend I was only casually invested in him…or us.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” I lied, panting for breath.

Jett flashed his pearly white teeth and motioned for me to follow him to the side of the building. “I got a contract.”

“Oh, my! Congratulations!”

“Thanks. It’s with a developmental team. The pay will be peanuts and my dad will have a lot to say about that, but it could lead to something else. Or not. It’s a start, though.” His easy grin grew to epic proportions. “I don’t know why I’m so pumped. It’s not the NHL, for fuck’s sake, but it feels like validation. Like maybe I am good at this hockey thing.”

“You are. It’s terrific newsandyou get to play tonight.”

“Right?” He made a “mind-blown” gesture and cast a furtive look around. “I have to kiss you. It’s gonna be quick, but just know that I’d totally stick my tongue down your throat if I could.”

That was the only warning he gave before bending to press his lips to mine.

It was more of a peck compared to our usual standards, but we let it linger until I set my hands on his face and broke the kiss.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“And congratulations.”

Jett winked, then jogged away.

I leaned against the brick wall, staring after him. My heart was beating too fast, and my head was still swimming from his kiss.

This was a quandary. A hullabaloo of my own making. I’d done the unthinkable and developed feelings for the hockey jock. Big feelings. L-word feelings.

It was the opposite of smart—but gosh, it felt good.

* * *

My fingers flew across the keyboard, pausing to cross-check information from one of the dozen tabs on my computer or to flip through the stacks of reference books on the dining table. I’d lost all semblance of time, but it was dark outside and Layla was curled up on the sofa, alternately changing channels or scrolling her cell and occasionally snickering at a funny meme or sharing an interesting headline.