Page 94 of Playing the Pucking Game

She should turn her back on hockey players and look at the guys hanging out in the library, maybe even in the music department. I know I’m dragging myself into this, but hockey players can’t be trusted. We’re too competitive, too busy craving the high of the next win, and it doesn’t just have to be while on the ice.

Movement above my head has me looking up.

I wonder what she’s wearing?

It doesn’t matter what she’s chosen; she’ll look beautiful regardless. She always does.

I glance at the clock, and my heart rate increases. He’ll be here soon.

I understand that Clark, her dad, is busy. Her mom, too. But someone should be here for this. It’s a big moment.

Her first date.

And I’m going to be sick.

But there’s no time to wallow in self-pity, because not a second later, her footsteps begin descending the stairs.

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing as I wait for her to appear in the doorway, and the second she does, all the air rushes from my lungs.

“Wow,” I breathe, but I don’t think she hears it. She’s too busy screaming in fright.

“Linc, what the hell?” She has her hand pressed against her chest as if she’s physically trying to keep her heart inside, and her eyes are wide as saucers.

“Sorry,” I mumble, unable to stop my eyes from feasting on her.

She’s wearing a long, floral dress that shows off her new curves perfectly. And I suspect that if she were to turn around, I’d find her back exposed.

That asshole is going to touch her.

My teeth grind at the thought of Seth brushing his fingers down her spine, resting his palm on the small of her back.

I don’t know where the image comes from, because it’s certainly not a move I’ve pulled with any of the girls I’ve been hanging out with. I guess it’s because Parker deserves better than any of them.

She deserves to be dated, adored, and made to feel special. She’s not just there for a good time.

“You look…”

Heat blooms on her cheeks and races down her neck to her chest.

I’ve tried my best to keep my distance from her since that afternoon in her bedroom.

It made me want things I can’t have, and the easiest way to deal with it was to back off. I figured if she wasn’t so present in my life, I could forget about it all and move on.

It was bullshit.

It doesn’t matter how much distance I put between us. She’s still there.

“Thanks,” she whispers, struggling to accept my attempt at a compliment. “Rett isn’t due back for a couple of hours yet,” she points out, assuming that I’m waiting for him.

“No, I know. I’m not actually here to see him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m heading out in a minute,” she says, as if I’m not aware.

“I know that, too. I just…” I trail off as my hand lifts to the back of my neck, rubbing at my tight muscles.

Why are you here, Lincoln?

She stares at me, waiting for me to say something.