Patrick (Hockey Boys #1)

Prologue

PATRICK

Rye High School , Rye, NH

My locker isn’t locked, so I fling it open.

It feels weird not having hockey practice after school, not being on a team anymore.

Staring at my books, I’m tempted to leave them all in the locker.

Why bother to take them home to study? Senior year is almost over, and the only responsibility I have for the rest of the year is working at our family fish market. Shit.

I need to buy a carton of gum to chew so I don’t puke from the smell.

The familiar giggles of teenage girls stop me from reaching inside my locker to grab my backpack. When I turn to check them out, I’m not disappointed. Sofia Rossi’s locker isn’t far from mine, and I admit—only to myself—that she’s the reason I hang at my locker too long too often.

She’s something to look at, standing there, dressed like a high-end fashion model with the kind of body that begs for—shit.

Never mind her body. Her face, the kind you see in glossy photos advertising lipstick or whatever make-up girls use, doesn’t show its usual life is a bowl of cherries expression right now.

Hell, what are those girls laughing about? Ricci and Nina are okay. They’re cute and they’re cheerleaders who I know from hockey parties, but it looks like they’re giving Sofia a hard time.

“Were you too busy studying to go to the party Friday night, or are you too stuck up?” Ricci’s voice naturally carries like she’s always yelling through her megaphone, which she clearly doesn’t need. “Whatever. I don’t know what guys see in you.”

Nina says, “Maybe they don’t like her after all. Maybe she wasn’t invited to the party.” Then both girls giggle again. They’re jealous and mean, and that’s not going to fly. I saunter in their direction.

Sofia—or my girl Fifi as I like to think of her when I do think of her, which is more often than I should since she’s of the forbidden fruit variety—doesn’t look happy about being the subject of jealous barbs, but she doesn’t retaliate.

Maybe she’s too nice, or more likely, maybe she doesn’t care. But I do.

Approaching Nina and Ricci from behind, I wink at Fifi as if we’re on the kind of terms where we know what a wink means, like we have intimate knowledge of each other and share winks and inside jokes routinely. We don’t. Not in this life.

But today, I don’t let that stop me from intervening because I can’t let this go. I know just how to cast shade on these girls while keeping it upbeat. I clear my throat loud enough to get their attention, and they turn around while I keep my eyes on Fifi.

The wink is working because I see a hint of a smile curve her mouth and the light of expectation in her eyes. Maybe we do know each other better than I thought, or at least better than most passing acquaintances in this town.

In my peripheral vision, I notice Ricci and Nina stare open-mouthed at me, barely keeping their drool under control.

“Trick, hi,” Ricci says, recovering from her surprise enough to lean close and go into flirting mode. “Fun party Friday night, wasn’t it? You were so adorable the way you—”

I cut her off. “Excuse me.” Skirting around her and Nina, I put an arm around Sofia, pulling her close to my side and trying to ignore the soft feel of her body as it molds to mine. Almost surprisingly, she doesn’t resist.

I face Ricci and Nina. “Be nice to my girl, Fifi. She doesn’t party because she’s busy.

” I feel her stiffen when I call her Fifi, so I double down on the act, partly to make my point to Ricci and Nina about exactly how much guys really are attracted to Fifi, and partly because I’ve been dying to taste her pouty lips ever since we both turned thirteen and found ourselves at the local ice cream shack at the same time.

I spent far too much attention watching her lick her cone than enjoying mine that day.

Ducking my head, I nuzzle Fifi’s ear, whispering, “Play it cool.” Then I cup her chin and brush my lips over hers, barely registering the dramatic gasps of Ricci and Nina over the rush of blood in my veins, the thundering of my heartbeat at the feel of her lips.

Shameless and not caring who’s watching or what my original purpose was, I deepen the kiss, and she responds as I nibble and run my tongue along the seam of her mouth.

As her mouth parts on a light moan and I’m about to get serious with this kiss, abandoning myself to the acute sensual experience, Ricci screeches.

“Oh my god! Are you seriously going to make out in the hallway?”

Fifi pulls back, and the two girls giggle with their hands half-heartedly covering their mouths.

“I can’t believe you, Trick. You’re incorrigible. At the party, you kissed every girl there,” she looks meaningfully at Fifi who looks flustered and amused, “and I mean every single girl, then you ended up tongue-tangled with Marilyn, and I thought for sure, well...”

“What’s your point?” I say, not appreciating this line of conversation.

“Are you seriously with Sofia Rossi now?”

Nina laughs, “You mean Fifi.” She makes light of my name for Sofia, but I let it pass. Instead, registering Fifi’s irritation, my protective instincts explode, and I double down on my pretense about our relationship again.

“Looks that way,” I say, keeping an arm around her because I can feel her tension and I’m worried she’s either going to run or smack one of these girls in the face.

Fifi speaks up. “I’m actually worried about Marilyn. Don’t say anything to her, Ricci. In fact, maybe we should all be extra kind to her.”

It’s the last thing I expected Fifi to say, and I stare at her to make sure she’s sincere. She glances up at me, and I can see that she is, even as she’s questioning me with her eyes about what’s going on.

“Wow, okay,” Ricci says after a few beats of stunned silence.

“No worries,” I say. “There’s nothing between me and Marilyn beyond a few kisses. Don’t make a thing about it.”

“Sure, easy for you to say,” Nina says. “But Marilyn is over the top for you.” She darts a glance at Fifi. Then they all look at me.

“I’ll talk to her,” I say. “Make sure she knows there was nothing going on between us.” Shit.

Ricci smiles, and both girls look pleased. “Well, this is great,” Ricci says. “See you at the next party on Saturday.” She’s looking at both me and Fifi, and I nod. Shit.

Fifi nods and smiles like she’s playing along, but now I’m not sure if I’ve gone too far. Then she squeezes my hand, and any concern I had vanishes.

When Ricci and Nina leave and I look around the empty hallway, I realize three things.

One, I still have my arm around Fifi. Two, she doesn’t seem to mind. And thirdly, I think we have a date Saturday night.

Which I absolutely need to break right now.

“So you know we’re not really going out Saturday, right?” I say, meeting her eyes.

Her smile transforms everything like it’s some kind of superpower that makes a guy’s blood turn to fire and his mind blow up. Or it could just be me.

“You’re not serious?” She scoffs like I’m absurd, like she didn’t just kiss me back and enjoy it.

I’m about to confirm that she actually enjoyed that kiss—since my mind has blown and is incapable of rational thought—when a very loud voice behind me gets my attention.

“Jennings.” It’s a very angry male voice, and the look on Fifi’s face tells me who it is even before I turn around to confront him.

Her oldest brother Frank barrels toward me, and I swear I see smoke flaring from his nostrils. Shit.

“What’s he doing here?” I whisper to Fifi in a rush. She shakes her head, and I notice her face go from pale and surprised to determined.

As I move to separate myself from her when he reaches us, she holds on. Shit.

“Get your hands off my sister.” Frank growls at me like we’re a couple of wolves in a forest fighting over a piece of meat.

Fifi hisses, “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t move away from me like a guilty girl ashamed to consort with the lowly enemy.

No. Instead, to my shock and horror and the delight of my dick, she moves closer, and I get a whiff of her scent, an intoxicating mix of candy and spice—like the nursery rhyme girl, only grown up and dangerously sexy.

“I’m here to give you a ride home.” He glances at her arm clutching mine. “Let’s go. Now.” His voice gets loud and threatening.

She flinches, and I automatically tighten my arm around her.

He glares at me. “I told you to let go of her.”

I meet his glare, and it’s all I can do to control my rising anger as I feel Sofia’s tension. She whispers something to me, but I don’t hear it as I hold onto my temper and breathe, silent and staring at her big brother, feeling his outrage burning me like he’s a fire-breathing dragon.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He lays a beefy hand on my shoulder and shoves me.

I immediately disengage myself from Sofia and face him, keeping her behind me.

“Your sister doesn’t need your protection. I’m not—”

He snarls, which is enough warning just before he throws his punch, but I can’t side-step him or he’ll end up hitting Sofia. Instead, I lower my shoulder and push into him full force, knocking him back. He takes that as an invitation to brawl and shoves me away so he can take another swing.

This time I’m more than ready to duck and parry, though I have no intentions of actually hitting him.

The last thing I want to do is give him any more reason to hit me.

Not that it’s likely he’ll make contact because he’s apparently from the advertise-your-moves-loud-and-clear school of fighting.

Not a winning method no matter how much power he packs.

He is powerful, and I have to be quick and watch his left uppercut because he’s bigger and has full-grown man muscles backing up his fists. I dodge another right haymaker, and he ends up punching a locker, probably breaking some bones if that awful crunching noise means anything.