Page 28 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

"This is a terrible idea, Phoenix," I say, staring at the ice as if it might bite me. Truthfully, that's probably the best possible outcome here. I'm on skates. Disaster is imminent.

"No, it isn't." He skates toward me, wearing this smirk that makes my soul shrivel.

God, he's too sexy for my own good. The bruise on his cheek is already faded to a greenish-yellow, but it doesn't make him look any less beautiful. If anything, it gives him an edge that's a little too appealing.

He crooks a finger, beckoning me toward him.

I gulp audibly, glancing around like I'm looking for an escape, but we're the only two here. Most of the arena is shrouded in darkness, everything off the ice muted to shape and shadow. I guess that's the perk of sneaking in after hours. The ice is the only thing that exists in the dark. But I still feel like the whole damn world is staring from the shadowy bleachers, waiting to see if I fall on my face.

I might.

"You know," I say, "we could have gone for pizza. Or coffee. Or ice cream. Or to the movies. Or—"

"Cara?"

"Yes?"

"Get your cute ass off the bench and on the ice."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're annoyingly bossy?"

"Yeah," he smirks, "a few times."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You have a younger brother. Don't tell me that he's never called you annoyingly bossy." His teasing smile lights him up. "I bet you fucking loved bossing him around when you were kids."

I still love bossing Jett around even though he outgrew me when he was sixteen, but I'll never admit it. Instead, I cock my head. "How do you know I have a brother?"

"I did my homework."

"Really?" I blink at him. "You looked into me?"

"No." He meets my gaze, his expression earnest and unashamed. "More like I've obsessively stalked your social media for the last few weeks."

"Find anything interesting?"

"Plenty."

I'm not entirely sure I want to know. I've had the same social media accounts since I was fourteen. God only knows what embarrassing photos and memories are lurking in my feed's history.

"Like what?" I ask anyway.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" His grin is all wicked mischief.

"Um, yes, actually." Does he think I asked for the fun of it? I desperately need to know which awkward, humiliating phases I need to strike from the historical record.

"Fine, but I have a question first."

I eye him, leery.

"What the fuck is fanfic?"

Oh, Christ on a cracker.

"Nope!" I cry, my face immediately catching fire as I try to haul myself to my feet. "No way. We are not talking about my reading habits. Time to skate."

His loud laugh rumbles around the arena like thunder, echoing from the rafters. God, I love that sound. "I had a feeling that would light a fire under that sexy ass," he says, holding a hand out to me.