How To Puck The Hockey Captain

3

Hey Zoe, just checking in for an update on your book!

I groan, letting my head fall into my hands. It’s been a week since I came up with my grand “Blake Plan”—yes, Blake Plan!—and yet… nothing. Nada. Zilch.

“Great job, Zoe,” I mutter to myself. “You’ve officially wasted a week.”

Where is that man, anyway? He’s been noticeably absent—no spontaneous visits, no casual hangouts with my brother, Preston. Blake is always here, lingering in the background of my life. But now, it’s like he’s vanished. Maybe I scared him off?

I shove away from the desk, frustration curling in my gut. “Ugh, get it together, Zoe. You need a new plan.”

I tap the pen against my notebook, contemplating my next move. I could use some inspiration from my own experiences or… reach out to someone else. But the thought of bringing anyone else into my mess is too daunting. I’d already made a complete fool of myself in front of Blake. Repeating that mistake isn’t an option.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s a message from Preston.

My cute little sister.

I snort at the text. Preston only pulls the “cute sister” card when he wants something. Sure enough, my phone starts ringing, and I put him on speaker mode. “What, Preston?” I answer, already bracing for his request.

“Zoe! You’ve got to help me out!” he exclaims, way too dramatic for this early in the day.

“Help you with what? Let me guess—you need me to cover for you again?”

“Sort of… I need you to pick up some snacks for the party tonight.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? You called me for that?”

“Come on, you’re the only one I can count on!” he whines, stretching out the word like a five-year-old.

“Fine, but I’m not buying any weird chips this time.”

“Deal! And Blake said he’d swing by to pick you up,” he adds nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal.

My heart skips a beat. “Wait, Blake’s coming to get me? Like… to pick me up?”

“Yeah! So hurry up. Don’t make him wait.”

I hesitate, every nerve in my body buzzing at the thought of seeing Blake again. A part of me wants to back out, to pretend everything is normal. But the other part—the stupid, stubborn part—knows I want to see him. I want to confront this… whatever this is between us.

“Okay, I’ll be ready,” I agree, even though my stomach twists with nerves.

Hanging up, I stare at my closet, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by a tidal wave of indecision.

“Too slutty. Too nerdy. Too… me?” I groan, tugging at my hair. “What should I wear?”

Before I can decide, a horn honks outside, making me jump. I grab the first outfit I can find—barely registering what it is—and throw it on. There’s no time for a complete makeover. I dash out of my room, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process.

I’m already in the car, out of breath and frazzled, when I realize what I’m wearing. Blake glances over, his gaze lingering before a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Shut up,” I snap, feeling my face heat up.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, barely holding back a laugh. “Hey, it’s a classic.” His grin widens. “Didn’t know you were a die-hard fan of the Powerpuff Girls.”

I look down and cringe. Great. I’ve shown up in an old Powerpuff Girls tee from elementary school. “Just drive, will you?” I grumble, crossing my arms. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Aw, come on, Zoe. You look cute,” he teases, his voice light. “It suits you—quirky and fun.”

“Quirky?” I roll my eyes. “Is that your nice way of calling me a dork?”

He chuckles. “I embrace the dorkiness. It’s part of your charm.”

“Ew, don’t flirt with me,” I mumble, pretending to be annoyed, but I can’t quite hide my smile.

“I’m serious,” he says, and for a moment, something shifts in his tone, making my pulse race. “It’s you. You’re you, Zoe. No need to be anyone else.”

I glance at him, caught off guard by his words. The sincerity in his voice is disarming, leaving me at a loss for how to respond. Before I can figure out what to say, he pulls up to the store.

“There. I’ll wait while you run in,” he offers.

But I hesitate, a sudden thought popping into my head. “Wait,” I say slowly. “Why are you even here, Blake? Why now?”

He shrugs, looking almost sheepish. “Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I didn’t want you out here alone.”

“Alone? I’m perfectly capable of buying snacks by myself, Thompson,” I retort, but my voice lacks its usual bite.

“Yeah, but I like driving you,” he murmurs softly, meeting my eyes. “Even if you wear ridiculous shirts.”

That’s it. I’ve had enough of his mixed signals. The frustration, the longing—it all bubbles up, making me reckless.

“Still think I’m a kid, Blake?” I challenge, leaning closer.

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t back down. “Maybe. Why? Got something to prove?”

“Maybe I do.”

Before I can second-guess myself, I scoot across the seat, planting myself on his lap. He freezes, his breath catching. For a split second, neither of us moves. For a split second, neither of us moved. Then, with a deliberate slowness, I grabbed his face, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.

My lips brushed against his, soft and tentative at first. And then something shifted—something fierce and consuming. The moment our mouths connected, it was like I’d ignited a fuse inside of me, a surge of adrenaline and need rushing through my veins.

His lips were surprisingly warm, firm but gentle, and I could taste the faint sweetness of mint on his breath. The world around us blurred, narrowed to the single sensation of our mouths moving together, testing, exploring.

I deepened the kiss, tilting my head slightly to get a better angle. His lips parted under mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. Every nerve ending sparked, like fire dancing over my skin. His hands hovered uncertainly at my waist, and I felt a flicker of triumph—like I’d caught him off-guard for once.

For a heartbeat, I felt him begin to respond, his fingers tightening on my hips, drawing me closer.

And then, just as quickly as it started, I pulled back, my chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

The look on his face was almost comical—wide eyes, slightly parted lips, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. I watched him for a moment, my own pulse thundering in my ears, and bit back a nervous laugh.

“Still think I’m just a kid?” I whispered, my voice breathy, a little too unsteady for my liking.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And the sight of Blake Thompson—cool, confident Blake—rendered speechless was almost worth the leap I’d just taken.

“Okay, I should go,” I blurted, practically jumping off his lap. My heart was still racing, adrenaline buzzing through my veins.

I scrambled out of the car, cheeks flaming, barely managing to keep my pace steady as I walked away.

What did I just do?

I kissed him. And not just a peck on the cheek, but a real kiss—a kiss that left my lips tingling and my heart in a state of chaos. I’d felt the warmth of his skin, tasted the hint of peppermint lingering on his tongue, felt that momentary spark between us.

My pulse pounded, every inch of me still buzzing with the aftermath of what I’d done. Did I really just kiss Blake Thompson?

Oh, God. I did. I so did.

And I didn’t know what scared me more—the fact that I did it… or the fact that I might want to do it again.