Page 91 of Monstrous Serpent

Across from me, Nakagawa rolls his neck and smirks. “Whattup, internet boy. Don't worry, I'll make you look good out here. You can thank me later.”

“Whatever.”

The puck drops. Doyle wins it, pulling it back to Knight. But UConn’s center and left wing crash forward.

I cut through the neutral zone, stick down. “Here!”

The pass hits my tape at the red line. Nakagawa closes fast, so I chip it off the boards and use my speed to beat him to it on the other side. My edges dig in as I cross into their zone and pull the puck to my forehand.

Their defenseman steps up with a good gap. I plant my outside foot and cut back, but he reads it, gets his stick in the lane, and the puck deflects into the corner.

Doyle gets there first, passes to Knight, and he shoots.

Glove save.

Fuck me.

The whistle blows.

I slow, skating alongside Knight. “Nice shot.”

He grunts.

The asshole sounds like Kincaid.

I hop over the boards and drop onto the bench next to Doyle. We grab some water while watching the next shift.

UConn pins us in our zone. Novotny blocks three shots, and I'm gripping my stick so hard my knuckles ache. The game goes back and forth like that for most of the period, both goalies stopping anyone from scoring.

I hop over the boards. Time to bury one in the net.

Doyle loses the face-off, but we quickly regain possession. Knight’s pass threads between two UConn players and hits my blade. Their goalie drops into butterfly, and I pull the puck to my backhand, roof it over his shoulder, and the water bottle pops off the top of the net.

“Yes!” I wheel toward the glass, grinning so hard my face hurts.

Doyle crashes into me, grabbing my helmet. I shove him off, laughing, and look up into the stands. Mom and Dad are on their feet. Davis is standing on his chair with both arms over his head.

A few feet away, Titans fans are slamming their hands against the glass. And behind them, some guy is giving me the double thumbs up. And his smile is so—

I stop moving, eyes wide.

Trembley?

I blink a few times. He’s still there. And next to him is Kincaid. Their hats are pulled low, hoods up, but I’d know Trembley’s fucking annoying smile anywhere because I’ve tried to punch it off his face for a year.

And unfortunately, I know what his pout looks like too because he’s sent me enough selfies with one after I refused to bring Blue over for a “playdate.” And when he didn’t stop, I blocked him.

For five hours.

Only lasted that long because Kincaid reached out and told me to unblock him.

Two words.

That’s all the dipshit said to me the entire week. And probably because Trembley was annoying the shit out of him.

Not sure what I expected exactly.

He hadn’t even bothered saying goodbye after fucking me. But when Trembley reached out, I thought . . . don’t know what I thought. Except that I’d been a disappointing lay he wanted to forget.