The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe
CHAPTER THREE
Michael
Frederick Brady the IV might’ve been one of the best roommates I’d ever had, but he was the oddest study partner. We headed to the library together for a few hours, and during that time, I’d gotten to learn his odd habits.
When we had to do team studies back at Moo U, the twins would get into it, but that was nothing like watching Freddie line up his highlighters and Skittles.
“Stop staring at me, man. Makes me self-conscious.”
“You’re matching the Skittle color with the highlighter. I can’t look away,” I said, amused as hell. The guy was six feet tall, wore thick black glasses, and had the body of a linebacker. Yet, he’d never played a sport a day in his life. “So, when you finish three pages of reading, you eat the yellow Skittle?”
“Reiner,” he said, staring at me with wide eyes. “I will smack you if you mess me up.”
I grinned and let him be. We’d been living together for over a year now when I answered his roommate ad, and he was my first friend at Central. He knew enough about me to be friendly, and having a fresh start that wasn’t clouded in grief was nice. No sympathy looks. No cringe-y smiles. I put on my headphones and got my economics book out. I had assignments to do that weren’t all based on shadowing Simpson.
I read a chapter and took notes, using red ink to jot down the key points. Someone told me back at Moo U that using red ink and chewing gum while studying helped trigger your brain to remember. I never looked into the validity of it, but I did both every time. As I organized my notes filled with definitions and applications of finance—when it came to athletics—I almost snorted at myself.
I always did okay in school. My sister was the overachiever, but this past year? I worked my ass off. Earning those A’s meant more than before. I couldn’t pinpoint how or why, but they did. My parents would’ve been proud of me. Sure, I liked partying and having a good time, but without hockey...I needed a challenge.
There was a soft thud to my left. Then another thud. Someone knocked over a large stack of books at a table. The hardbacks dropped in slow motion as a girl covered her face before sliding off her chair to pick them up.
Recognition flared through me. Coach’s daughter. Klutzy McGee was at it again, and without overthinking it, I pushed out of my chair. The movement caused Freddie’s Skittles to wobble, and he shot me a death glare.
“Shit,” I said, reaching to reposition the sweets, but he swatted my hand.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I backed away from the table slowly and walked toward Naomi, or Fletcher, the moment she slammed her head under the table. It’d been four days since we got that beer, and she’d crossed my mind more than a few times. Her adorable nose scrunch and full lips caught my attention, but it was the passion she had talking about data that intrigued me. I was a fan of people who loved something as much as I loved hockey.
“You should come with a warning sign.”
She rubbed the spot where her skull met wood and winced. “Approach with caution then.”
I bent down to help her pick up her books, and charts and numbers jumped out at me. Made sense if she was going to do stats and report the trends to me. I set the texts on top of the table as she plopped into the chair. She wore a faded blue shirt that said GO TEAM, and she had two braids going on. Neither of those things drew me in, but the intelligence in her eyes, the smooth skin, and the damn lemon scent coming off her did. I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
She arched a brow. “Please, sit, join me. I’m at your leisure.”
“I’m sensing a tone here,” I said, unable to stop my lips from curving up. This woman was a puzzle, and I had questions.
“I’m not being subtle.” She blew out a breath and played with the end of one of the braids. “What are you doing here?”
“At the library? Studying with my roommate. Or did you mean, life in general? Because I’m not sure. I have moments of clarity at times but then I feel purposeless, you know? Oh wait,” I teased, blinking and putting a hand on my chest. “Did you mean here at your table?”
Her mouth twitched, and she shook her head. “Obviously the last one.”
“I saw you and wanted to say hi.”
“Well, hi.” She waved, and a light blush crept on her cheeks. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she stared at me, and there was something about her that made me want to stick around. She had an air of loneliness that I understood, but there was no real way to explain how I knew that.
It was just a feeling. The way she steeled her shoulders and how she looked at her dad with hurt in her eyes. We all had our baggage, and while I never talked about mine, I wanted to ask about hers. Who was the girl who needed a fake date? The girl who bolted before taking more than three sips of a free beer?
“Since we’ll be working together, I feel like we should get to know each other more, hm?” I said, leaning onto my elbows and getting an inch closer to her. She had a light dusting of freckles on her nose and a mole on her left cheek. I instantly pictured the trio of moles I saw on her collarbone.
She sighed and looked everywhere but my face. “Why? You seem like trouble.”
“Well, I am.” I winked and flashed her my best smile. “Have you ever helped out during a hockey season before?” I asked, chuckling at how she narrowed her eyes at me. “Lots of time together, you and me. What if you need a fake date again? Hell, what if I need a fake date? These are important questions, so we should probably be friendly.”
“Did my dad make you do this?”
“Wait, what?” I recoiled. “No. We didn’t talk about you after you left.”
Naomi seemed to sink further into her chair. “Fine. We’re friends.”
“Doesn’t work like that.” I tapped my finger on the table, and she watched the movement. “Did that guy stop bothering you? Do you need me to help again?”
She blinked. “It’s fine. I haven’t seen him.”
Okay, she was a tough cookie. A hard cookie, like a biscotti or something. Didn’t make it less delicious, just a bit more effort to get to the good part. It was exhilarating and weird to struggle to get more than one-word answers with this girl. Flirting was as easy as skating, but Naomi had me questioning my game.
That wouldn’t do.
“Okay, data girl, since I pretended to date you for ten minutes, do I get the story behind it? I think that’s a fair ask.”
“Nope.” She swallowed and played with that damn braid again. Her big brown eyes seemed to stare through me as she said, “I appreciate you helping me, by the way. I never got to thank you.”
I liked her voice and how it was a little deeper than I’d imagined. I flashed her another grin and leaned back into the chair. “You’re welcome. I’m always up for pretending to date cute data nerds.”
“Mm,” she said, her mouth almost curving up at the sides in a smile. That tiny movement shouldn’t have sent a thrill through me, but shit, it did.
“Okay, this one-sided conversation is going swell.” I laughed at how much shit I’d get if the guys back home knew how much I failed at this. Was I hoping to harmlessly flirt with the woman who’d been on my mind the past week? Yes. Would anything happen? Nah. But she shot down every attempt. I covered my yawn with a hand as I started to stand up. The anticipation of being back in the rink during game time, not as a player, kept me up. I wasn’t sleeping great with all the mental gymnastics I’d been partaking in. “Sorry, Fletcher, super tired today.”
“Wild night?” she asked with a hint of judgement to her tone.
“I mean, watching a documentary about Michael Jordan and then tossing and turning all night isn’t in my top five crazy nights, but sure. We’ll go with wild.”
Naomi fought a smile again but lost. She laughed, and it was like a wall crashed down between us, the tension in my chest fizzling away.
“I’m being rude. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Sounds like we’re breaking up, which ironically, still makes this the second longest relationship I’ve had.”
Her eyes crinkled on the sides, and she let out a deep chuckle. “Ah, and the longest would be?”
“Melanie Veroni. Third grade. Now that I think about it, we never ended things. So, this is awkward. I should probably call her, right? To make sure we both know?”
She snorted, and it charmed me. She swallowed as her gaze moved from my face to my arm with tattoos. The ink designs were all flowers, free-hand drawings from sick artists back home, and a large phoenix that covered my entire bicep. “Is your first name Reiner?”
“My last name. Michael William Reiner is my whole name. That was going to be your next question. I could already tell.”
Naomi had a great smile. Straight white teeth, soft lines around her full lips. I liked how I could break down that slight grumpy exterior. Again, something told me she had a story there, but until I found out what it was, I’d settle for those little grins.
“Your turn,” I said, jutting my chin at her. “Full name. You could also provide your social security number and name of your first pet. If you wanted to. No pressure.”
She chuckled again. Two points for me.
“God, you are something else.” She set her hands down on the table, and the lone silver ring on her middle finger caught my attention. “Naomi Fletcher. I’m not sharing my middle name because it’s...well, you’re a hockey player. You’ll just make fun of me.”
“Try me.”
“Gordie. My dad made a bet with his buddy, and my dad lost. My godfather got to pick my middle name and went with Gordie. So yeah, Naomi Gordie Fletcher.”
“Gordie as in… Gordie Howe? Mr. Hockey?” My eyes almost bugged out of my face. “That’s pretty badass.”
“Not as a young girl when we were bedazzling everything and getting monograms of our initials.” She forced out a laugh and looked down at her hands. “My sister was Cami May, so you could imagine my envy.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever given much thought about my middle name.” I crossed my arms and tried to remember if my parents told me why they’d chosen that. Maybe it was a long-lost family name or a tribute to their favorite dog. I wasn’t sure, and it was moments like these where my chest weighed a million pounds. I would never get to ask them for middle-name anecdotes. The paralyzing grief rippled under the surface, and I did the only thing I knew—deflected it. Distracted myself.
I could give my whole attention to a person, a sport, an assignment, just to avoid getting lost in my own thoughts or feelings. “Listen, I can see you have some bitterness about not having a cute middle name that looks good in sparkles, but that shit is cool. Not saying that because hockey is in my blood. It’s unique, and anyway, who wants to fit in? I sure don’t. My sister’s name is Ryann with two N’s, and she loves how different her name is. No offense, Klutzy, but you don’t strike me as someone who was born to blend.”
Naomi’s entire posture changed. Her shoulders relaxed, and warmth flooded her eyes. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“I’m always good for a truth bomb and pretending to date you when guys like Gage come around.” I winked at her, and Naomi blushed. The pink on her cheeks had my grin stretching across my face. She was damn cute. “So, speaking of names… Fletcher. Simpson. Why do you go by Fletcher?”
She nodded. “My official last name is Fletcher-Simpson. My mom never took my dad’s last name when they married, and I just liked Fletcher better. My sister chose Simpson.”
“Naomi Gordie Fletcher it is.” I studied her again, feeling a natural closeness with her that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Kindred spirits, lost souls. It wasn’t purely physical either. Sure, she was attractive, but the fact she was the boss’s daughter put an instant not going there vibe around her. That made her live in a different part of my mind. One that didn’t cross into more than friends.
Because this internship, working with Simpson, was the thing I needed to figure out my future. No matter how cute his daughter was, nothing could mess that up. Plus, I missed having someone to share stuff with. Freddie was great but distant. My sister and I spoke twice a week, but that was via phone. Once I got past Naomi’s exterior, she opened up, and it like we’d known each other for months instead of days. I said her name again and winked when she met my eyes.
“Okay, you charmer, you’re a hockey player.” Naomi smiled.
“Was. Not anymore,” I said, the edge of my voice a little sharper than intended. “I was. For most of my life, but that chapter’s done.”
“Not really. Sure, you’re not on the ice, but you’re interning with my dad. He lives and breathes the sport. This might be more intense than being on the team.” She released a little sigh that had me frowning. Her dad’s dedication to hockey apparently bothered her.
I wanted to ask why, but her attention shifted to my right where a very different version of Naomi stood. Same facial features, same coloring, but everything else was the total opposite.
The sister waved and smiled brightly at Naomi, who stiffened. Interesting.
“Hey, you!” the girl said, her gaze moving to me, and her eyes widened. “Oh, you’re handsome. I’m Cami.”
“Cami with the cute middle name. Nice to meet you.” I smiled and winked before getting up from the table. Cami’s grin grew as she checked me out from head to toe, but I didn’t react with more than an arched brow.
“Talking about me, I see,” Cami said, sitting next to me and not leaving more than a few inches between our arms. She smelled like an explosion of lavender and flowers, and I itched my nose. It wasn’t bad, but it was a lot. Nothing like the subtle lemon of Naomi. “You on a study date with my sister?”
“No. This is not a date. He came over here to annoy me,” Naomi said before I could even breathe.
“Well Ms. This-is-not-a-date,” I said, laughing at how fast she claimed we weren’t together. Her tone made it sound like I was the last person she’d be caught on a study date with, and a prickle of annoyance had me narrowing my eyes.
Which was dumb.
I didn’t date, and hello! COACH’S DAUGHTER. That cleared up any weird feelings she caused, and I smiled at the sisters. “I should let you both catch up, since my plan is complete. Annoy Naomi, mission accomplished.”
Cami let out a little pout of protest, but I ignored it. She had trouble written all over with her outfit and lack of personal space. The minute I was around both sisters, it was very clear they couldn’t be more different. Besides the basic facial structure, body type, hair, and eye color, there was nothing similar about them. I gave a tight smile to Cami before glancing at not a date Klutzy McGee and found her staring at me with hurt in her eyes.
Seeing that pain in someone else caused a protective instinct in me that I often thought of as Momma Bear. Gender wasn’t hard lines, and the phrase Poppa Bear reminded me of a nursery rhyme. Momma Bears guarded those around them, and that’s how I felt about Naomi. “See you at the game Friday, Fletcher? You bring the clipboards and bar charts, and I’ll bring the charm?”
Her lips twitched just a half an inch up on one side before she nodded. “Leave the charm at home, please.”
“Never.”
With that, I lifted my hand in a wave before heading back to Freddie’s table. Half of the Skittles were gone by the time I sat down. “You cheat on your very meticulous study plan?”
“I would never.” His eyes flashed at me before he leaned back in the chair and jutted his chin toward Naomi and Cami. “How do you know the twins?”
Cami leaned over her forearms, her upbeat voice carrying across the library, but I couldn’t stop watching Naomi. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked at the table and not her sister.
“The twins? They have a name? A reputation? Oh, do tell.” I tried not to look too eager, but if Freddie knew about them, that piqued my interest. He rarely got out and preferred playing videogames over socializing in person.
Freddie snorted. “Look at you getting all interested.”
“Dude, no, not like that. They’re the hockey coach’s daughters. My mentor. I’d be an idiot to think about thinking about crossing that line.” I ran a hand over the back of my neck and snuck a quick glance at them again.
“The pretty one is wild.”
The surge of protectiveness hit me fast. Even without him expanding, I knew he was talking about Cami. Not Naomi. Didn’t explain the tightening in my chest though. “They’re twins. They’re both pretty. Clarify more, Frederick,” I said, a sharp edge to my voice.
“Cami. She’s…a party girl. In a sorority, dances, parties.”
“Okay, most college coeds go out a lot and don’t eat Skittles in the library. Neither of those things make her wild.”
Lines formed around Freddie’s mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I need to study.” He put his airpods back into his ears.
My phone buzzed on the table, directing my attention to the name popping up on the screen. COACH SIMPSON.
It was the reminder I needed. My internship, my focus. I should under no circumstances be thinking about his daughter in any sort of way.
