Suck My Puck (Denver Bashers Series #3)

2. Bella

Chapter 2

Bella

A booming noise jolts me awake. I groan as I struggle to open my eyes.

The more I wake up, the louder the sound gets.

Damn it. Did I accidentally set my alarm before I fell asleep? I was pretty delirious after the workday from hell…

After a few seconds, I realize that’s not the sound of my phone alarm. It’s music.

I force open my eyes and blink a few times until the sound finally registers.

A heavy metal song bounces against the walls of my bedroom. It’s coming from my neighbor’s apartment.

Anger and annoyance shoot through me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter into my pillow.

I lean up and pound my fist against the bedroom wall that separates our apartments. I wait a few seconds, but that grating guitar riff continues to wail through our shared wall.

I pound my fist again. “Hey! Turn off your fucking music! ”

I yell so loud my ears ring. There’s no way they didn’t hear me.

I wait for ten seconds, and still nothing. Just more heavy metal music.

When I glance at the clock on the nightstand and see that it’s just past nine-thirty, my anger turns into full-on rage.

I got home at five in the morning after working sixteen hours straight and dealing with a flat tire. By the time I showered and fell into bed, it was almost six.

Not even four hours of sleep before I was woken up by some death metal rager happening on the other side of this wall.

I hop out of bed, my adrenaline spiking. Who the hell blasts death metal at barely nine in the morning?

Apparently my neighbor, who I’ve never met. But I haven’t met any of my neighbors since moving in two weeks ago. I’ve been too busy working every waking hour to rebuild the savings my piece-of-shit ex stole from me.

When I think about what Matt did, the rage inside of me amplifies.

I can’t believe I was ever in love with that jerk. That selfish, cocky asshole who let me give him all of my savings so we could buy his uncle’s house together while he cheated on me with every puck bunny in Toronto, leaving me with no money and a broken heart.

Which is why I’m living in my aunt’s luxury apartment just outside of downtown Denver that she usually rents out. She’s letting me stay here for free until I can build my savings back up. Because when I first moved back into my parents’ house in Denver so I could lick my wounds and rebuild my life, it was an utter disaster. The second I moved back home, all they did was lecture me about how I made the biggest mistake of my life, moving to Toronto a year ago so I could be with Matt while he made his hockey dreams come true.

Every conversation we had, they made it a point to tell me how much better off I’d be if I’d just broken things off with him when he moved to Toronto instead of following my heart. It led to non-stop arguing. My aunt took pity on me and agreed to let me stay here so I didn’t have to deal with the constant disapproval from my parents.

To their credit, they’re right. If I could go back in time and break up with Matt, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I can’t. All I can do is try to move on…and swear off dating another hockey player ever again. I won’t watch or attend another hockey game again, either.

Hockey guys like Matt are selfish and cruel and don’t care about anyone other than themselves. They’ll do whatever it takes to have their cake and eat it, too. They don’t give a shit who they hurt along the way.

As I stomp down the hallway through the living room and to the front door, I shove aside thoughts of my ex. I don’t want to devote any more space in my brain to that jerk.

I fling open the door, stomp to my neighbor’s apartment, and pound my fist against the door.

“Hey, jackass! Would you mind turning your music down?”

I stand there and wait a few seconds, but nothing.

I pound again. “Turn off your music!”

Still no answer.

I tug both hands through my hair, my head throbbing due to being jolted awake from a deep sleep. I let out a groan.

“Uh, can I help you? ”

I spin around and see a huge blonde guy frowning at me in confusion with a giant gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Is this your apartment?” I bark.

“Yeah…”

I glare at him. “Can you turn your fucking music down?”

His soft blue eyes widen as he leans back, clearly jolted by what I’ve said.

“Um, yeah, okay. Sorry,” he mutters.

I move to the side so he can unlock his door. He fumbles with his keys before unlocking it and stepping inside. A few seconds later, the music stops.

“Thanks, asshole,” I holler into his open doorway before I stomp back to my place.

I’m not even halfway to my door when I hear him mutter the words, “Jesus. What the hell is her problem?” as he goes to close his door.

I should ignore this guy. But I can’t. He’s the one who’s in the wrong, who woke me up by blasting his shitty music. I’m not just going to stand there while he mutters crap about me behind my back.

I spin around and march back over to his half-open door. He’s shocked to see me, judging by the way his brow is at his hairline.

“My problem is that you think it’s okay to blast music in the morning like an inconsiderate dickhead.”

He frowns. “Look, it was a rough morning for me. I didn’t mean to leave my music on. I already apologized. No need for you to be a jerk.”

“Oh, you mean that half-hearted ‘sorry’ you muttered in a pissed-off tone?”

He tugs on the baseball cap he’s wearing backward on his annoyingly handsome face. Thick, wavy blond hair sticks out from the sides, framing his killer cheekbones.

This dickhead is unfairly hot. If he had walked into the bar I work at, I’d do a double take for sure. He’s got the handsome, chiseled face of a male model, and he’s obviously ripped based on the way his thigh muscles poke through the joggers he’s wearing. And the way his sculpted shoulders are visible even through the thick fabric of his hoodie.

But he’s not just some stranger in a bar. He’s my dickhead neighbor who thinks it’s okay to leave his music blaring while he pumps iron at the gym.

“We share a wall. So if you could remember not to blast your heavy metal garbage in the mornings, that would be divine. Some of us value our sleep schedule.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk, making him even more handsome. Goddamn it. I hate him even more.

“Well, some of us have to be up earlier than nine in the morning,” he fires back.

I bite down, annoyed at how he’s implying I’m lazy for sleeping later than he does.

The urge to tell him that I worked until five in the morning hits, but I stop myself. I don’t need to explain myself to this jackass.

I narrow my gaze at him. “Gotta keep up with those early morning gym bro sessions, huh?”

His smirk fades. “I’m not a gym bro. I’m a hockey player. I have practice early sometimes.”

That annoyance inside of me turns bitter. I glance down at the Denver Bashers logo on his hoodie.

I let out a tired laugh. “Of course you’re a hockey player. ”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He’s clearly offended.

I glance off to the side before looking at him. “Nothing. Just be quiet, okay?”

“Fine,” he mutters.

I walk back to my apartment, shut the door behind me, then stumble back into bed.

I close my eyes and try to fall back asleep despite the annoyance and adrenaline spiking through me. My neighbor is a loud, obnoxious hockey player. Just fucking great.