Page 84 of That Pucking New Girl

“I need to stretch my legs anyway,” Ciaran smirks, making me bark out a laugh.

“Glad this magically works then, your highness,” I tease. As the doors close, I press the key fob to lock the SUV.

“I needed tonight to unwind,” he confesses as we walk. “Even if it’s turning out not to be what I originally expected, just being out of my house is nice.”

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Draven asks, his hands pushed into his pockets.

“My dad is being a dick,” he sighs. “He’s riding my ass about my playing, insisting that I need to stop talking so much shit on the ice. If this wasn’t a way to get to college on a full ride, he’d tell me to quit. My mom is the one who took me to all the hockey camps growing up, remember?”

“I do,” I say. His mom isn’t terrible, but I think his dad has been taking a toll on her. I’m surprised they’re still married to be honest.

“Every night is the same bullshit,” Ciaran grumbles, his hand raking through his hair. “They want me to be focused on my classes, which I am. I’m acing all of them, but it’s never enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Draven says. His mother is a saint and amazing.

My dad doesn’t get on me for my grades, but instead lives and breathes hockey. I’ve watched so much tape of my opponents it’s ridiculous. I know what I need to do. Hockey isn’t always about skill, there are a lot of other factors.

“The shop should be right…here,” Ciaran says, stopping across from it.

“Why do they own a shop like this?” Draven asks. “Is that a tarot card reading sign?”

“This is so random,” I mutter, already crossing the street. Now I’m curious. Is this some kind of front for an illegal business?

“Shit,” Ciaran says, chasing after me. “We can’t see who’s inside from here.”

“Fuck it,” I decide, opening the shop door.

The store has soft lighting, wood flooring, and lots of shelves throughout it. I’m reminded of how Noor pitifully muttered she had migraines, and wonder if she’s comfortable here. The three of us wander through the different paths to explore.

There’s so much on the shelves, it’s insane. I can see everything from crystals, sage, gemstones with notes for what they can all be used for, as well as jewelry. Something tells me there’s more to the necklaces than I’m seeing, but there aren’t any notes to distinguish what it’s for.

At the back of the first aisle, I can see a full panel of mirrors and I’m confused as to why it’s there.

“Is that to see how the jewelry looks?” I mumble.

“No,” Noor says.

I startle, glancing up to see her arms crossed over her chest as she glares at us. I always forget how she looks outside of school, and my eyes move over her cargo pants, cropped band shirt, and boots. There’s a lace top underneath the shirt that covers her stomach, but it doesn’t deter from the skin I can see underneath it.

“That’s strangely unhelpful,” I reply. I can see the little name tag on her shirt and smirk. Gotcha. “Aren’t you supposed to answer people’s questions if you work here?”

“I did,” she says. “If you’re unhappy with the reply, that’s on you.”

“So goddamned frustrating,” Ciaran grunts softly.

“Is this why you’re not at my party?” I ask.

“The invite to be your slave wasn't appealing. So instead, I’m working. Some of us do need to do that,” she says succinctly. “Any other questions?”

“Do you really need to work?” Draven snorts.

“I’ll be eighteen soon so yes, I do,” she says, turning away.

“So what happens then? Why is that age magical? I still have the same rules to govern me now as when I was seventeen,” I say.

I’m baiting her at this point, because I know the foster system isn’t kind to those who become adults. While I don’t have any personal experience with it, I’m aware of the issues.

“I could technically be shown the door at eighteen,” Noor says, standing in the main area of the room.