Page 81 of Pucking Forbidden

A part of me wonders if he regrets what happened, if he's disgusted by how easily his control shattered. But deep down in my heart, I know that's not it. I felt the desperation in his touch. He wants me. I lie awake at night, terrified of losing him as a friend and a constant part of my life, while simultaneously aching for him to be so much more than a friend.

“You’re way overthinking this, Hads,” Lainey had groaned over the phone last night, exhausted by my agonizing. Her solution, as always, was simple. “He’s a guy. A big, brooding, emotionally stunted hockey player who got scared because a pretty girl made his brain short-circuit. You should just show up at his apartment and kiss him again until he forgets how to spell his own name.”

I was too much of a coward. I was too afraid that if I pushed him, I’d look into his eyes and find out that the wall he built between us this time was too high for me to ever climb.

By the time October 31st rolls around, I’m mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. Still, the girls have invited me out for Halloween. The guys are finally back in town. Everyone’s going to the Night Hawk for some annual Halloween party the bar throws. I’m excited to go, but also nervous since it’ll be the first time I’ll see Julian face-to-face since Boston. I’m not sure what I’ll say to him, but I’m not going to let him keep avoiding me.

I’m staring at my bedroom ceiling when my phone buzzes on my mattress. Then it buzzes again. And again.

THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY BITCHES

Stacey: Hadley emergency. SOS. The world is ending, and I have zero concept of time management. If you aren't at Grace’s apartment in twenty minutes, I am going to have a literal stroke.

Rylee: By stroke, she means she tried to do winged eyeliner and ended up looking like a raccoon who survived a house fire.

Stacey: I AM IN CRISIS MY EYEBALLS ARE BLACK HOLES. Hadley please. Bring your steady surgical hands. I’ll provide the tequila.

Sutton: She’s not kidding, Hads, she looks unhinged. Get over here. We are extracting you from your depression cave tonight whether you like it or not. Code Red.

Stacey: Code Red!!

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes my throat. It’s the first real one in days. Looking at the screen, I don't give myself a single second to overthink it. I don't let myself wonder if Julian will be at the party, or what I'll do if I see him. I just type out a quick On my way, throw my bag over my shoulder, and leave.

“Hadley, hold still! If you keep moving, this eyeliner is going to end up in your eyebrow,” Rylee mutters, leaning over the back of the sofa with a liquid liner brush held like a weapon.

“Sorry,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut. Doing someone’s make-up is one thing. Stacey looks gorgeous thanks to my help, if I do say so myself. Having someone do mine is a whole different ballgame.

Grace’s living room is absolute, unadulterated chaos. It looks like a bomb went off in a theatrical costume shop. Faux-fur rabbit ears, fishnet stockings, pink lip gloss, and half-empty glasses of champagne are scattered across every available surface. The plan the girls came up with is hilariously literal. We are going out as “puck bunnies,” complete with white fluffy tails, satin ears, and oversized Night Hawks jerseys.

For the first time in two weeks, the constant noise in my head because of Julian somewhat quiets. The sheer, vibrant energy of the girls is infectious, and I’ll forever be grateful that I’m friends with this group. I let Grace tease my hair, and I laugh when Sutton accidentally drops a contour brush down the front of her bra. The oversized jersey with Julian’s name and number falls to my thighs, tiny bike shorts beneath giving me a bit of modesty without taking away from the appeal of the costume. My bunny ears are tucked securely into my curls, and my tail peeks out from beneath the back of my jersey. I look bold and sexy. Like someone who takes risks.

Knowing the name Wilder is printed along my back, a sudden wave of heat rushes to my face. My fingers trace the heavy fabric, my heart hammering against my ribs. Wearing this jersey is a big deal, and I know it. It’s the same jersey I’d been wearing two weeks ago when his control shattered, and he kissed me. Putting it back on tonight feels like playing with fire.

“Oh, wow,” Rylee grins, pausing in the doorway, makeup brush in hand. The room goes quiet as the rest of the girls turn to look at me.

Grace stops her frantic pacing, her eyes widening as she takes in the name on my back. “You’re wearing Wilder’s? Hadley, I thought you were going to grab one of the blank fan jerseys from the stadium closet.”

“I…well, the stadium ones were all the wrong size,” I lie, my voice squeaking as I try to pull the jersey down to cover more of my legs. “And I already had this one, so…you know. Convenient. That’s all.”

Sutton raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “Right. Well, good luck to any guy who tries to buy you a drink tonight, Hads. They’ll be signing their own death warrant.”

Stacey walks into the room, frowning as she checks her phone. “Hey, has anyone heard from Skyler? She was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“I texted her three times,” Rylee replies, stepping back to admire her handiwork on my face. “Perfect! You look cute as fuck, Hads. And, no, Sky isn't answering.”

Grace pauses. “That’s weird. Let me call Carson.”

We all quiet down a little. Grace puts her phone on speaker. It just rolls straight to voicemail. Then she tries Skyler again. Once more, voicemail.

“Okay, this isn't like her,” Grace murmurs, pacing a tight line across the rug, her hair bouncing against her shoulders. “Skyler is never late for getting-ready drinks. Especially not on Halloween.”

“Do you think something happened? Like her car broke down?” Stacey asks, leaning forward. “She was at her office today. The traffic heading toward downtown was absolute hell an hour ago. Maybe her battery died on the I-25?”

“No, she would have texted if she was stuck on the highway,” Rylee counters, flipping her phone over in her hand, her brow furrowed. “She lives on her phone. Unless...maybe she got sucked into an emergency crunch meeting at work? You know how those game developers get when a patch breaks.”

“On Halloween night? That would be downright criminal,” Sutton mutters. “Skyler would mount a full-blown rebellion. Did you try Carson again? If they’re together, he might have his phone on.”

“I tried him twice and Skyler three times. It went straight to voicemail for both of them. It went straight to voicemail both times,” Grace exclaims, her voice climbing an octave. “What if they got into an accident? What if some idiot blew a red light on their way over here?