Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter Seven Not the Boss of Me

CHAPTER SEVEN: NOT THE BOSS OF ME

SKYLER

The days following my initial meeting with the Night Hawks pass in a bit of a whirlwind as I immerse myself into the game. It’s a little weird, since I’ve never been a big fan, but having some insider assistance is proving incredibly helpful. Zander is a godsend. He’s patient and thorough in his explanations. He is a snack to look at, too, which makes listening to him ramble on about defensive maneuvers and trick shots, or whatever, bearable. He’s becoming a really good friend, and I’m so grateful for it. It makes it so much easier to ask the questions I worry might be silly or basic.

I sit in on another practice, and then Grace and I drive together to the game in Utah. Being in the stands of an actual game is both wild and overwhelming. The fans are crazy, shouting, cheering, booing, and jeering when fights break out. The Night Hawks are thrilling to watch, and as much as I hate to admit it, Carson is a superb goalie. We win two to zero. I find myself up on my feet, shouting in excitement right along with the other Night Hawk fans.

After the next practice, I eagerly wait for Zander to come out of the locker room so we can grab food again and go over my latest notes. I’m feeling extremely motivated after receiving an email from Samuel earlier today. He bragged about how well things are going for his game. Now, more than ever, I feel pressure to make sure my game is absolutely perfect so I can crush his smug ass. As I stand by the exit, flipping through my notebook, I catch a figure approaching out of the corner of my eye. Thinking it’s Zander, I look up with a grin but then freeze when I realize it’s Carson. He stops in front of me, his brow furrowed.

Shit, I haven’t spoken one-on-one with him since my first night in Denver. Whenever we’ve been around each other, other people have been present. Right now, there’s no one else in this hallway but the two of us, so I can’t exactly ignore him.

I can’t help but drag my eyes over him. He’s wearing a tight white t-shirt and…fucking gray sweatpants. His hair is damp and plastered to his forehead. Damn it, I hate how sexy he is. It makes me think of that dirty fantasy I had of him and suddenly I’m imagining him pinning me up against the wall behind me, with his hand lightly wrapped around my throat. I swallow and force my gaze away as I pull my slim black jacket tighter around me.

Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop thinking about him like that.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks. “Didn’t Grace already leave?”

“She did,” I reply. “I’m waiting for Zander.”

Carson’s eyes flash and his jaw tightens for a moment before he visibly relaxes and says in a cool, even voice, “Ah, I see. Well, I won’t bug you while you wait for your date.”

I frown. “Oh my God, are you really doing this again?”

“Doing what?” he replies with a scowl.

Seriously? Does he not realize the old bullshit he’s pulling? This is just like when Chris Murphy wanted to ask me out in the tenth grade and Carson threatened to beat him with his hockey stick if Chris didn’t stay away from me.

“Chasing off any boy interested in me?” I snap. “Seriously, is this still high school? You let Grace and Jensen date, so why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I just said I wouldn’t bug you,” he growls. “And I didn’t let Grace and Jensen do shit! They snuck around behind my back like a couple of horny teenagers!”

That makes me roll my eyes. “Please, this is classic Carson. Pretend not to be bothered while making snide remarks and then going full Hulk and rampaging.”

He looks horrified and sputters, “You’re being ridiculous! I’m not going to argue with you about something so stupid. I’m heading home.”

His cheeks turn bright red and he hurries past me, grumbling something under his breath. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked…embarrassed. That can’t be right, though. Carson doesn’t embarrass easily. It’s actually super annoying. Still, why would he be embarrassed by me?

What is his problem? Why does he have to be such an asshole all the time?

And if he has to be such an asshole, why does he have to be such an attractive one? God, stop looking at his ass as he walks away!

“Hey, Sky! Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Startled, I turn and spot Zander hurrying toward me with a big grin on his face. He’s got on a long sleeve shirt and basketball shorts. His powerful legs are on display. His hair is also damp and his shirt hugs every defined muscle in his arms and torso. I feel a flutter in my stomach at the sight of him, but nothing more. Ignoring the fact that my reaction to see him isn’t as strong as my reaction to seeing Carson, I quickly put a smile on my face to greet him .

“No worries,” I say. “You ready?”

He nods. “How many notes did you take today?”

I let out a small chuckle as I hold up my laptop. “Oh, just a page or two…or ten. I also have a bunch of new scripts worked out for gaming mechanics that I can show you on my laptop if you’re interested?”

He laughs. “Absolutely! Well then, let’s get going. Don’t want to be at this all night.”

Slipping his massive arm around my shoulders, he leads me out of the stadium and into the parking lot. Soaking in his heat and the strength of his big body, I force all thoughts of Carson and his bad attitude out of my head.

Billy’s Diner is quiet, save for a handful of other patrons and the jukebox playing softly on the far wall. Tucked away in our corner booth together, Zander and I are basically alone. It is perfect for us to go over all the questions I have for him.

“Can we go over the power play strategy again?” I ask between bites of the french fries we’re sharing. “I am not sure how to translate the right movement physics with the game mechanics”

“Sure thing,” Zander replies. “What’s tripping you up?”

I turn my laptop toward him and show him a diagram of the play I’ve drawn. “Well, I get that it’s all about positioning and puck movement, but when I try to map it out, it just doesn’t feel right. Like, how do you balance the need for quick passes with maintaining control of the puck?”

Zander leans forward and taps his finger on the laptop’s screen. “Think of it like this: when you’re on the power play, you have an extra player, so it’s about exploiting that advantage. You want to keep the defense on their toes by moving the puck quickly, but you also need to create openings. Think about how hockey is a game of keep away until the player strikes. That model should work. Maybe even incorporate some AI that adjusts based on the player’s decisions.”

I quickly type his suggestions into my laptop. “Got it. And what about when the puck gets into the corners? How do players typically position themselves to retrieve it?”

“Corners are a whole different beast. You’ve got to have a forward battling for the puck while the other players set up for a quick transition. It’s a lot about anticipating where the puck is going and positioning yourself to support your teammates.”

I sit back and think about that a moment before slowly saying, “So, it’s almost like a dance — everyone needs to know their role and timing, or it falls apart?”

“That’s a good way of thinking about it,” Zander replies, snatching a fry from the plate. “And the same goes for how you code it. You want the AI to mimic that awareness and reaction. Players should make split-second decisions based on their position, the puck’s location, and the opposing team’s movements.”

As he speaks, my fingers fly across the keyboard and I start to lose myself in my work as I type out code based on everything Zander is telling me.

“Okay, so if I adjust the player speed here… and then tweak the AI’s defense algorithm…” I murmur. “That should make the gameplay more realistic.”

I pause, biting my lip in concentration, then quickly type a few more lines. A satisfied smile creeps onto my face as I watch the simulation run smoothly on the screen.

“Yes, that’s it,” I whisper triumphantly.

Realizing that I’ve grown totally engrossed in what I’m doing and ignoring Zander completely, I pause and bashfully glance up at him.

“Sorry,” I say with a sheepish smile. “I got a little carried away.”

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth curling up into a grin. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells me. “I like watching you get so into your work. You’ve gotten to see me in my element, so it’s nice to see you in yours.”

“I hope I’m not boring you,” I reply.

“Not at all. This stuff is fascinating to me. Honestly, if hockey hadn’t worked out, a part of me wanted to go into game development like you.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “I cannot picture that.”

“Why not?” he asks with a teasing grin. “Big guy like me can’t be smart enough for programming?”

I give him a playful punch in the shoulder. “That’s not it at all, doofus. You’re just…such a natural athlete. I don’t know if you’d be able to stand sitting behind a desk all day, staring at codes.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Still, the opportunity was there. My cousin works for an indie gaming company here in Denver and would’ve hired me in a heartbeat if I’d asked her.”

“Oh yeah?” I say. Color me intrigued. “What’s the company?”

“Lumina Interactive,” he replies.

My jaw drops. “Lumina Interactive! No fucking way!”

“You’ve heard of them?”

“Hell yes!” I exclaim. “They’re one of the only women-owned gaming companies. Most of their staff are women, too. Lumina is doing a lot to champion women in gaming throughout the industry.”

Zander grins and nods. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. Would’ve been a good place to work if hockey hadn’t panned out for me.”

We sit there for a while longer, munching on fries and talking video games. At one point, we both reach for a fry and our fingers brush. Pausing, I wait for the spark of heat I would anticipate to feel from the touch. Instead I feel a comfortable warmth. Huh…that’s a bummer. Zander glances down at his watch.

“Hey, do you want to go get a drink?” he asks. “There’s a bar not too far from here where the team likes to hang out.”

I blink, surprised by the invite, but then nod. “Yeah, sure! That sounds like fun.”

“Great,” he says. “I’ll get the bill and we can head out.”

“Okay.” I smile and watch him leave the booth with our ticket to go pay at the counter. I really like hanging out with Zander. It feels like we’re becoming real friends. For him to invite me to hang out with the team at their favorite bar…

I tense, realization crashing through me. Will Carson be there? Crap, I’m probably a mess, and there will likely be tons of pretty girls there. Carson will take one look at me and think I’m nothing but the nerdy girl he considered such a turn-off when we were fifteen. The thought makes me a little nauseous. Anxiety churns through me.

Grabbing my phone, I open the camera app to check my appearance. I smooth back a few loose wisps of hair and wipe away a speck of ketchup at the top of my lip. Satisfied, I quickly put my phone away before Zander comes back.

“Ready to go?” he asks, holding out his hand to help me get out of the booth.

Slipping my hand in his, I nod. “I sure am.”