The Boyfriend Zone by Jillian Quinn

Every seat in the arena is filled with students dressed in navy and white clothing—the colors of the Strickland Senators. Taylor sips from a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, cradling it between her hands.

“It’s freezing in here,” she whines. “How can you stand it?”

I glance down at my short-sleeved tee and jeans and shrug. “I’m used to it. The cold doesn’t bother me anymore.”

She snickers. “I’m so cold my nipples are poking a hole through my bra. I could hurt someone with these suckers.”

I shush her, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one can hear her. “Would you lower your voice? You have no filter in public.”

“Who cares? I don’t know anyone here.”

“Yeah, but I do. My dad’s the coach, remember?”

Taylor blows on her hands to warm them. “You’re nervous about tonight. Because of… you know who. I’m with you. It will be okay.”

She’s referring to Kellan Lehane. He’s down the ice with his team. I haven’t been this close to him since high school. I’ve intentionally skipped the Boston College games for the past three years because of him.

“I’m fine,” I promise, even though I’m ready to jump out of my skin from being in the same building as that animal. “I can handle seeing him after all this time,” I lie. “This game is important to my dad. I didn’t want to miss his first game as head coach.”

I grind my teeth as I’m forced to watch Kellan’s cocky ass skate across the ice. He commits an illegal check without the refs noticing. Asshole. He got away with murder back in high school, and he still does. The sight of him makes me sick to my stomach. So, I do my best to ignore him, pretend he doesn’t exist.

My only saving grace is the line changes. Thank God for those. In hockey, the players skate for short periods of time, expelling a lot of energy in a minute or two. Sometimes less. That keeps Kellan off the ice, making it easier to deal with the fact he’s here—back in our hometown.

When he moved to Boston for college, a weight lifted off my shoulders. Not having to see him every day provided me some time to heal. Even if my dad didn’t have rules before Kellan came along, I would have made my own. I will never repeat the same mistakes I made with him. Ever. Not even for someone as hot as Preston Parker.

“Your dad would have understood if you bailed tonight,” Taylor says, in a hushed tone. “I’m sure he knows how hard this is on you.”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I want to be here for moral support. He won’t say it out loud, but I know he’s nervous. I can’t even remember the last time he asked me to come to a game. It seemed like he needed me here.”

“The announcers will rip him a new one if they lose.” She gulps down the last of her hot chocolate and sets the empty cup on the floor next to her foot. “They’re so harsh with coaches. You saw what they did to Coach Vaughn last year when we lost to Villanova.”

“Yep.” I cross my fingers and hold them up for her to see. “That was brutal. Let’s hope for a win. I have a good feeling.”

My dad made sure we had the best seats in the Strickland Skate Zone. We’re in the lower bowl, right behind the goal and in the front row. Close to the action, I can see the players perfectly.

Taylor cheers along with the crowd. I rise to my feet when Preston skates down the ice on a breakaway. For such a big guy, Preston is so graceful. He makes it appear effortless.

Now I remember why I fell for a player once upon a time. Hockey players are sexy, like way too tempting. It’s hard enough to play a sport on foot, let alone on skates. And then Preston has to be so… Preston.

I place my hand on the Plexiglas, craning my neck to get a better look now that Preston is only a few feet away from me. He takes a shot. It’s deflected by the goaltender’s stick and bounces, hitting Tucker in the leg. It drops to the ice, and Tucker draws back his stick. Deflected again.

Preston regains possession attempting to pass it. But no one has a clear shot. He takes a Hail Mary of a shot, and this time, the puck sails between the legs of the goaltender.

The horn sounds, and the crowd goes wild. My face hurts from smiling. With the cold, it might permanently freeze this way.

“They scored!” Taylor screams in my ear.

I chuckle. “I know.”

We high-five each other as if we’re on the court together and just scored the winning point. I’m so happy for Preston and the team.

“That was hot.” Taylor lowers her voice. “Your man looks so good.”

I shake my head. “He’s not my man.”

“But he can be. I read his texts, too. He definitely likes you.” She smiles. “I’m sure he doesn’t let his mom meet many girls.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m already freaking out about meeting Coach. She’s a legend in the sports world. I mean, how often does something like this happen to normal people?”

“I wish I could come along for the ride. Could you imagine having her as your mom?”

“I know, right?”

“I would kill to meet her. She’s so badass.”

“I’ll ask Preston tomorrow. Let me see how it goes first.”

Taylor smiles. “She’ll love you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I hope so.”

Taylor cups my shoulder with her hand, diverting my attention from the ice to her. “Don’t sweat it. Once you’ve won her over, and I know you will, then I can meet her, too.”

Meeting my childhood idol is a big deal. Why does she have to have such a hot son? Ugh, Preston is too delicious for words. He doesn’t even have to do anything special to make me notice him.

After the Strickland Senators hit each other on the backs and do their usual hockey hugs, Preston skates back to the bench when his eyes meet mine. My hand is already on the glass, and he taps the other side with his glove, shaking the layer between us. Electricity dances along my skin from the carnal look in his eyes. My throat just about closes up.

He takes out his mouth guard and smiles. I return his expression and mouth, Nice shot. As if he understands me, he winks. Then he skates away, leaving me with my dirty thoughts—ones that involve all the things I want him to do to me.

This is bad. So, so bad.