Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

“They say a man who can dance is also good in bed.” I send the blonde I’m dancing with a flirty smile. She laughs like a hyena, and I feel my smile slide off my face but decide to overlook the obnoxious giggle and swing her around again. The country song is on full blast, and I wish I had my cowboy hat to drive the point further, but nonetheless, I’ve been swaying this girl off her feet for the last hour with my sudden Southern accent.

Everyone says it comes out when I’ve had too much to drink, but I’m not drunk.

I’m tipsy.

There’s a difference.

“Quit while you’re ahead.” Aasher, our co-captain, pulls the drink out of my hand, and I stop mid-twirl. The blonde stumbles, but I catch her around the waist.

“Party foul,” I say, hauling her upright. “Give me my drink back.”

“We have conditioning tomorrow morning. You show up hungover, and Coach will punish all of us.”

“He’s right.” Theo is standing behind Aasher with his arms crossed. You’d think after he made it official with Claire, he’d be less uptight about the season, but nope. He’s even worse.

“Calm down, Daddy,” I quip.

Theo’s cheeks redden, and his jaw flexes, but then he visibly relaxes when a football player snatches the blonde from my arms.

“She’s not a toy,” I state.

The hyena-soundalike seems unbothered that she’s now dancing with a six-foot-four center, but I still step forward, prepared to give him shit. My mouth opens but closes a second later when I spot Emory moving through the party on a mission.

I know that look.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

His wide shoulders are tight, and his fists are pumped full of blood. If he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he’d be showing off every tense muscle along his spine with how rigid he is.

Taytum, Taytum, Taytum. 

I knew she was up to something.

“What’s going on over here?” I ask, stepping in line with my best friend. The party is lively behind us, but I block it out the second I see Taytum standing beside our captain’s girlfriend.

Her hip is popped, and her features are highlighting every ounce of sass. Sometimes I want to take my thumb and smear the pink lipstick off her lips so no one else’s eyes are drawn to her mouth.

“Back off, Emory,” she snarls.

“Why are you even here?” Emory asks. “Do you really think it’s wise to be at a wild party right now? Go rest or something.”

“Wild?” Claire asks innocently. She peeks behind Emory with a furrowed brow and checks out the party. It’s a little congested, but it’s not at the part of the night where bras are hanging from the ceiling fan or anything.

I elbow him. “I’m with her. This isn’t anywhere near wild, bro.”

He sends me a glare, and I zip my lips. Not the time for disagreeing. Got it.

I turn toward Taytum. “That’s not to say I’m not siding with your brother.” Why does she have to look so good? All the time, too. She’s always so damn appealing. “You should leave.”

“And rest?” she asks, looking at us both like we’re completely crazy. “Just because I have diabetes doesn’t mean I need to rest, you idiots.”

I know that.

Emory does too.

“I’m not leaving, and neither of you are going to interfere with my plans for tonight. Got it? I am sick of it.”

Taytum’s gaze skims past her brother, and our eyes meet. There is a subtle raise to her eyebrow, like she’s challenging me, and it’s clear that this is what she was referring to earlier.

Emory shakes his head. “Not a chance. Do we need to start up our usual tactics again? Because now, more than ever, it’s needed. What happens when you’re locked away in some room with a loser and your blood sugar drops? Huh?”

Taytum’s nostrils flare with anger. “Then it’ll freaking alert me on my phone! Remember this little gadget that everyone forced me into wearing?” She goes to move her sleeve, but I step in between her and her brother to try and soften things. I press on Emory’s chest. “Let her have some fun.”

I lean in closer to Emory and block Taytum from reading my lips. “You know I always keep an eye on her. I never let it go too far.” Mainly because the thought of someone touching her sends me straight to the deep end. As if I’d let some guy leave this party with her scent on his fingers…or worse…his dick. 

Emory growls before turning and stomping through the room. He grabs the redhead that’s been eyeing him the entire party and disappears upstairs.

I look at Taytum. “You’re welcome.”

She rolls her pretty blue eyes and looks at Claire, who is pressed up against Theo. She and Taytum have some sort of silent conversation that we’re obviously not invited to.

“Let’s dance.”

I don’t wait for Taytum to decline my offer. My hand finds her wrist, and I pull her onto the makeshift dance floor. Her hips are snug in my grip, and she puts her arms around my neck, clawing me lightly with her nails.

“I’m not stupid.” She peers at me through her thick eyelashes. “You can play nice all you want, but I know the second I get close to some guy, you’ll swoop in with some ridiculous excuse and send him packin’.”

I play dumb. “Ridiculous excuse? When have I ever done that?”

Taytum scowls after I spin her around and crush her to my chest. She immediately starts to list my most-used excuses. “Let’s see…there was the time you stormed into the room and told me that my dog died. Then, there’s the one where you said there’s a warrant out for my arrest. Um, you’ve used the boyfriend one many times.” Taytum clears her throat, and I hold back a laugh when she deepens it to sound like me. “Sorry, man. She has a boyfriend.” She slips back into herself for a moment. “Who has never even existed!” Then she clears her throat again. “And he’s on his way up here.”

All I can manage to say is, “I do not sound like that.”

Taytum glares at me and tries to turn away. Instead of letting her go, I grip her hips a little tighter and keep her in place.

“Oh, come on. It’s funny.”

“It’s not funny!” she hisses between her perfectly straight teeth. “Do you know what it’s like to be me and have this unyielding responsibility to keep everyone happy and stay on top of my sugar and insulin? I’m expected to do what I’m told at all times, no questions asked. God forbid I make a decision for myself. And you and Emory are even worse! You two destroy any little bit of fun I try to have. I’m going to die alone because of you guys. And who knows! It might be sooner than we think.”

Taytum started off her little rant with anger backing her words, but it went south real quick. She stops moving her feet and shoves my hands off her waist. Her pink, plump bottom lip folds in behind her front teeth, and the gloss of her eyes catches the bright disco light in the corner of the room.

For once, I’m speechless.

Is she…crying?

In the midst of panic, I’m met with her back as she charges through the party and disappears into the fog of rowdy college students. My first thought is to chase after her, but I stop myself because what am I going to do to make things better? Allow her to drink and fuck up her sugar? Watch her take off with some guy to lose herself for a little while?

Neither of those options do anything for my sudden irritation.

But seeing her upset doesn’t do anything for it either.