Hooked: A Hockey Romance

by Abby Donne

  He dropped down next to her, and her eyes shot open. Confusion marked her face for half a second before she yawned and laughed, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.

  “Can’t say we’ve ever thrown a party boring enough to make someone go to sleep,” He said, stretching out his legs. The grass tickled under his knees.

  “I’m sorry. I worked both my jobs today, and I was ready for bed like an hour ago.”

  “Both your jobs?” He looked over at her with wide eyes. Sure, he’d been curious about her before. But now he wondered just what kind of life she led that had her juggling class and multiple different jobs.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” She moved the empty bottle so she could draw her knees up. She rested her head on them like a makeshift pillow. He wished she was comfortable enough with him to lay her head on his lap instead. “One of them isn’t even a real job. I work on campus with the IT department. Most of the time the calls are bullshit.”

  “And the other?”

  “Also bullshit. I’m basically a manager at the Grab n’ Go over on Fourth Street.”

  “Basically?” He questioned, trying to think of the place she was describing. It was near campus, but if it was the place he was thinking of it wasn’t exactly the best block.

  “I’m the only responsible person that works there. Most of the time I’m covering call offs. I wasn’t supposed to work tonight, but the girl whose shift I took was ‘sick’. I saw her here like fifteen minutes ago, so it must’ve been a crazy fast bug.”

  “You’re right. That is bullshit.” He felt oddly defensive of her. Jesus, he was losing it. He popped open his cooler and twisted the top off another beer, taking a long drag. He needed to be drunk like an hour ago. He offered her another one and she declined. Not wanting the conversation to stall, he asked, “So the IT thing, is that what you want to do when you graduate?”

  Her face lit up a little. Her smile was a little crooked, and he wanted to take a picture of it – of her, sitting there staring at him like she knew some big secret. She always looked like that.

  “Not help desk, no. I thought I wanted to do data security for a long time, but I saw a story my freshman year about a government worker that disappeared after stumbling across something sketchy. I went down this rabbit hole of conspiracies, and I almost changed my major. Emma convinced me that was stupid and we took a semester of self-defense, like that would help if the Russian mob kidnapped me. Anyway, last year I got really into the idea of being a consultant. Basically going to different companies and analyzing their structure.”

  “That sounds uh, fascinating.” Tyson’s lie was completely unconvincing. He loved that she wasn’t a psychology major or some shit like that. He still wasn’t entirely sure what a consultant did, but it sounded important and it made her smile. Or was she smiling at him? Either way, his chest started to ache so he drank more.

  “It actually is for me. A lot of people are into computer sciences because it pays well. It’s a perk, obviously, but I genuinely enjoy it. When I was in middle school my town’s activity center offered a summer coding class. I was bored and begged my parents to let me go to it. I think they were more so just happy I wasn’t trying to sneak out to chase after my brother, so they let me go. I loved it. Jokes on them, though, because I was still sneaking out.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me you were a little rebel in school,” He teased.

  “Not really. Compared to my brother I was a saint. I got away with a lot of stuff because it was mild compared to Wade’s teenage antics. I wasn’t doing anything bad, really, but me breaking curfew here and there was child’s play in the grand scheme of things. They only got upset when I lied to them, really.” Something passed over her face and her expression went soft. So tender he had to finish his bottle. “One summer I told them I was going to the campground for the week with my friend and her family. Instead I followed Wade’s band across the state and went to every one of their shows. A bunch of the venues were twenty-one and over. I was barely eighteen. They let me in, but Wade was pissed the entire time. He actually called my parents and ratted me out.”

  “See? Little rebel.” He nudged her legs with his and left them there. She didn’t pull away. “To be fair, I’d rat out my little sisters if they did that, too.”

  “Looking back it was stupid,” She agreed. Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it over the shitty music mix that was playing. “But he was my hero – is my hero. He’s older than me and was never around, and I was desperate for a few minutes with him. Even if I had to sleep in the back of my car and shower at gas stations. At the time I saw what he was doing as so, I don’t know, freeing. How many people actually go out and chase their dreams?”

  “Not a lot,” Tyson admitted, a vision of him skating across the ice coming to the front of his mind.

  She blushed and straightened out her legs. They were still pressed against his. “Sorry. You seemed to get kind of spacy when that guy started talking about the draft. I didn’t mean to poke at a sore subject.”

  “You’re cool. I just don’t like that dude, but he’ll call the cops if we tell him to go. I usually check out when he talks.”

  “Oh.”

  Tyson grinned at her. Their hands were so close. He was far from drunk, but he was feeling risky. He linked their pinky fingers together. Layla looked down at their joined fingers and back up at him but she didn’t pull away. Blood rushed in his ears. Something was wrong with him because holding hands wasn’t his thing, and getting a hard on from holding hands was a special kind of crazy.

  “I’ve given hockey one hundred percent of myself, knowing it might not pay off. Knowing the odds are totally not in my favor. It’s worth the risk. Being on the ice feels like home. It’s hard to describe, but even knowing I only have a five percent chance of making it to the NHL makes all of it worth it. I’d put in same work if I only had a one percent chance.”

  “Wade once said he’d be stupid not to take a shot because even if he failed he could say he was one of the few people who cared enough to follow his dreams.”

  “Sounds like a smart guy.”

  “His band got signed that same summer I tried following them around.” She named the band, and it didn’t sound familiar to him. She didn’t seem surprised. “They’re really heavy. Wade almost had to have surgery on his throat this past summer from the strain.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “He loves it,” She said, her features going soft. She squeezed his finger and he looked over at her, concerned and confused, but she was back to smiling. “Anyway, you have sisters?”

  “Tabby and Tara. My parents have a thing for ‘T’ names.” Tyson laughed awkwardly and rubbed his neck. “They’re both in high school now. This past summer back home I was made painfully aware of how grown up they actually are.”

  How many parties did he show up to just to see his sisters there in dresses that were way too short? Tyson wouldn’t risk everything by beating the shit out of the little snot nose assholes that looked at his sisters like pieces of meat, but he wasn’t above intimidation.

  Silence fell between them for a moment. The washed out bass from the rap music drifted above their heads, trying to rain down on them. A buzz started to settle in his veins. He had an inkling it had more to do with Layla than the alcohol. He felt restless and at ease all at once. Trapped in the moment, he was startled when her head rested on his shoulder. She smelled so fucking good his dick started to twitch in his pants. It was almost a permanent problem when she was around.

  “Hey,” He muttered, wiggling their still joined finger. She shifted and looked at him, eyes droopy. “You can go nap in my room if you want.”

  As hard as she made him, he wasn’t going to take advantage of her. Drunk or tired, it was all the same to him. Tyson wanted her fully lucid when he finally got her under him. If she decided to wake up in the middle of the night for a quickie, that was a different story. Really, though, the thought of her in his bed just sleepi
ng made his stomach tighten like it did before he skated out for a big game.

  “Maybe some other time,” She said, sitting up fully.

  He might have tried to hide his desire under the ruse of a nap, but she was smart enough to see through it. She pulled her hand away from his and started to stand up. Her legs were wobbly. His, he found out when he tried to get on his feet and help her, were nearly the same. The arm he offered up to steady her wasn’t of much use.

  “I should probably get Emma. She was playing drunk Scattegories with Heath last time I saw her. Most of their answers made absolutely no sense. It was fascinating to watch, really,” She rambled a little as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and frowned at her screen, tapping out a text.

  Heath wasn’t the type to play board games with anyone, let alone a pretty girl, unless he was trying to get something out of it. “They’re both adults. I’m sure she’ll come find you if she’s ready to leave.”

  Okay, apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say. Layla scowled at him as she ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it up. It was so goddamn hot he almost forgot his name. Almost.

  “Excuse me for wanting to make sure she doesn’t do something she’ll regret. Emma’s had a hard fucking year. I came tonight so she could cut loose, but I’m not going to let her jump into bed with someone she just met. The last thing she needs is to be stuck on some guy this year.”

  She stopped abruptly and stormed off, stomping towards the house.

  Whatever, he thought almost bitterly. The last thing I need to be stuck on this year is some chick.

  chapter six

  Layla thought about skipping class. It was always a nagging thought when her alarm went off at seven in the morning, especially over the last few weeks, but the urge hadn’t been this strong all semester. Not even the week after she fell asleep on Tyson in the middle of his yard and kind of acted like a bitch because she hated that she wanted to ride him like a joystick. Not that she was apologizing for that. Ever. She sat next to him in class like nothing happened. She didn’t even try to switch workshop partners. Tyson’s writing was a lot more enjoyable than Heath’s, anyway. The one and only story she ever read of Heath’s involved ducks, a cemetery, and a very strange time traveler who wore a top hat.

  It wasn’t like Tyson was begging for any of her time, anyway. Just like she predicted, his fascination was basically non-existent that next Tuesday. If he wanted to play the cool and distant game, so be it. It wasn’t like she actually fucked him. Not in real life anyway. In Layla’s dreams all bets were off, and things got real… real… good.

  So good that when his leg brushed against hers as they sat at their little anti-literature group in the corner of Jackie’s class goofing off instead of doing the assigned group work she almost forgot the Tyson in her head wasn’t the same Tyson in real life and getting on her knees was probably frowned upon.

  He just smirked at her and kept his leg right there, making sure when he bounced his knee it rubbed right against her bare skin.

  Two weeks of that and she still hadn’t skipped Jackie’s god awful class.

  Waking up after four hours of sleep because she had to stay over at work to cover a call off – surprise, surprise – to a dismissive ‘Idk if I can make it’ text from her brother sure as hell made her want to skip. Wade was her hero. He was also the only person who’d ever broken her heart. The familiar ache deep in her chest had her rolling over, tucking her hands under pillow as she squeezed her eyes shut.

  She was taking a fucking mental health day.

  Layla didn’t think about how much money she was throwing in the trash by skipping or how much valuable information she was missing out on – newsflash, it wasn’t a lot – when she drifted off to sleep. Instead, she thought of getting an extra few hours. Of calling off work and making someone cover her shift and giving them a taste of their own medicine. She thought of spending a whole day in her pajamas with the curtains pulled, of her brother texting ‘JK on my way!’, of a mountain of Rice Krispy treats. She thought of everything but Tyson and the twinge of disappointment she felt when she realized skipping Jackie’s class meant skipping out on seeing his face.

  When Layla finally rolled out of bed a few hours later she felt immensely more like herself. There was a little residual guilt for skipping when she wasn’t actually sick, but the last time she slept in past eleven she was probably in high school. After all her hard work didn’t she deserve to play hooky? It wasn’t even hooky, really. Dragging herself out of bed and to campus when she was running low on sleep and fucks to give with the weight of Wade’s dismissive text on her shoulders would’ve been an Olympic feat.

  She made it not a point to look at her phone before she showered. She got dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas and flipped on some music while she made herself brunch. It was still brunch if you were alone at your apartment, right? With a stack of blueberry pancakes she sat down on her couch and managed to avoid her phone for just a little bit longer.

  When she dropped her dirty plate in the sink, lying to herself by saying she’d get to it later in the afternoon, and finally looked at her phone she wanted to cry. Why did she think she’d have dozens of missed texts and calls? It wasn’t like she was a social butterfly. There was a message from one of her friends, Joanna, about getting coffee sometime. That was it.

  Layla shot off a text to Jo letting her know she’d be free all day, called the gas station to let them know she wouldn’t be going in for her shift later, and emailed the two professors who classes she skipped. By the time she finished drafting the second email she got a text back from Jo about meeting up at The Buzz, their favorite coffee shop downtown, in an hour.

  She felt only the tiniest bit of guilt for skipping class and calling off work to spend the day relaxing and hanging out with her friend. It would take around twenty minutes to get downtown and find parking. After getting dressed and putting minimal effort into her hair, skipping makeup altogether, she still had a half hour until she had to leave. She called her mom, who was more than delighted to have a mid-day chat, and somehow avoided the topic of Wade. For as rebellious as he was as a teenager, their parents still loved him unconditionally. They were incredibly proud of his career. Seeing their balding dad wear a Beneath the Sea shirt to the grocery store is simultaneously the cutest and most embarrassing thing to witness. Regardless, Layla didn’t want to hear her mom say ‘Well, he is busy sweetie’ and crush her all over again.

  In a move that only seemed fitting, Layla lost track of time talking to her mom. By the time she realized what time it was she only had ten minutes to get across town. Swearing, she rushed a goodbye to her mom and ran out of her apartment. She typed out a text to Joanna as she ran down the stairs. She managed to snag a decent parking spot thanks to her wonderful parallel parking skills and burst into The Buzz only a few minutes late.

  Jo waved to her from a corner of the cozy shop. Feeling a little reckless, Layla ordered a large strawberry mocha and a slice of banana bread. Jo eyed her full hands as she sat down.

  “Bad day?”

  Layla groaned, “Yeah. Nothing even happened. I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  “Ugh, I hate those days. My entire sophomore year was like that.”

  “How could I forget?” Layla nearly moaned when she took a sip of her drink. It was a special treat drink for a reason. “You said good dick was the cure to depression.”

  “Well it is.” Jo had a look on her face that dared Layla to challenge her claim. After they both laughed her expression softened a bit. “I haven’t seen you basically all semester, though. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “I’m working a lot. Stressed about saving up for my internship, you know? And actually getting into my top choice. The department places us based on our answers to a survey.”

  “At least they place you. My program throws us to the wolves.”

  Joanna was in the theater program. They actually met at a campus event freshman ye
ar when Layla thought she maybe wanted to switch her major. Jo, who at the time was undecided, was standing at the theater booth talking to one of the students on the other side of the table when Layla saddled up, eavesdropping like it was her job. Honestly, Layla had zero interest in theater and wasn’t a performer. She just thought the guy at the booth was cute; later she found out it was the only reason Joanna was there, too. They ended up talking about Jo’s Nightmare Before Christmas shirt and had lunch together at the union. While they weren’t as close as they were those first two years of university, they still made a point to text and hang out every few weeks.

  “What have you been up to? I saw on Instagram you were a counselor over the summer. That’s awesome.”

  Her face lit up. “Yeah. It was a Shakespeare in the Park kind of thing. Seeing so many kids interested in theater and Shakespeare was like, mind blowing. They had confidence I aspire to have some day, too. Their ‘Hamlet’ performance at the end of camp was actually really awesome.”

  “I don’t know if I could be around so many kids for so long, even if they were cool. It makes me want to break out in hives.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” She said, rolling her eyes. “Plus, I hooked up with this smokin’ hot guy when I was there.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Right? Well, it turns out I was kind of networking by sucking his dick on the regular. He works at the Columbus Center for Performing Arts and got me an in there in the costuming department. It’s hella part-time, and it sucks driving to Columbus every week but it’s a good way into the industry. Plus, he lets me stay with him.”

  “Congrats. On the job, not the sex. But also the sex.”

  “It’s casual,” She said, shrugging.

  “Do you want it to be casual?”

  “We’re both too busy for it to be anything more, really.” Jo looked out the window and frowned, chewing on her bottom lip before adding, “I like him, though, and I really like his dog. I think I’m screwed either way, but I’m trying not to think about it too much. Just have fun while I can, I guess.”