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“Same outcome, Phillips. If this comes out, I’m going to pretend I knew nothing about anything.”
I exhale as I pull into the rink’s lot and park, cracking my neck before climbing out of the truck.
I need to focus on tonight’s game, not a girl.
We’re ranked first headed into the first round of playoffs. But going forward, every game counts in a different way. If we lose, it’s all over.
And the guys are looking to me tonight. They’re expecting a goal, ideally more than one. For me to continue the impressive scoring streak I’ve been on lately.
I grab my hockey bag out of the bed, slinging the strap over one shoulder before heading toward the cluster of guys already waiting by the bus. Hart is standing right by the door that leads on board with Sampson and Williams, so I drop my bag in the pile of others and head for them. Hunter follows me.
Halfway to them, I spot Coach walking out of the rink’s front entrance.
And he’s not alone.
I haven’t seen Rylan since she left me in the library.
I don’t have her number, and sending an email to her school address asking if she was okay after swallowing my cum felt way too weird. Showing up at her house was an option, I guess, but I didn’t know how that would go over.
She took off, which seemed like a clearI don’t want to talk to youmessage. So I have no idea what to expect from our next tutoring session. I was planning to show up and follow her lead. If Rylan wants to pretend it never happened, then I’ll do the same.
I just wish I’d known that ahead of time.
I would have kissed her, at least, if I’d known how brief our hookup was going to be. And how it was going to end.
But I thought it was a Tuesday problem, at least.
Today, surrounded by my teammates and in front of her dad, is not how I would have chosen for our first encounter post-blowjob to go.
Rylan isn’t looking this way. She’s talking to her dad, and he’s nodding in response.
As curious as I am to learn more about their relationship, I avert my eyes before she catches me staring.
Hunter and I reach Conor and the guys he’s with, me fighting the urge to glance over at Rylan the entire time.
“Ready to kick some Barnett ass?” Robby asks, knocking fists with me and Hunter.
His enthusiasm is contagious, and I feel my focus start to sharpen. Puck drop is only a few hours away.
“Fuck yeah,” Hunter replies, nodding.
He looks totally normal, no trace of our conversation in the truck obvious on his face, and I hope I appear just as unbothered.
But maybe not, because Conor is watching me with a worried wrinkle on his forehead. “Phillips? You good?”
“Yeah. I’m great.” I manage a nod, keeping my eyes straight ahead and trying to ignore the prickling sensation along my skin that makes me think Rylan might be looking over here.
I’m trying so hard to ignore her proximity—I’m probably just paranoid.
She took off on Tuesday, so why would she be paying me any attention now?
The driver appears and unlocks the bus, so guys start filing on board.
I’m one of the first to get in line behind a couple of juniors, eager to get on the bus, put on headphones, and get in the zone for our approaching game.
Conor, Hunter, and Robby join the line behind me, theirchatter not loud enough to block out the conversation in front of me.
“Who’s that girl with Coach?” Andy Pierce is asking.
