Puck The Rules: Not Me
965 Views · Ongoing · Hannah Peter
I thought sharing a dorm room with Jack Carter — the ice hockey team captain I hate the most — was bad enough, but then the coach just had to pair us together for some so-called "team building."
I have to pick his socks off my side of the room and listen to him mock my "fancy Italian socks" when I set down rules. "Define your side, then," he'd grin, like our invisible wall was some joke. "Gotta tape it off? You want chalk?"
He makes my blood boil. The way he skates backward during practice, eyes locked on mine like I'm just another puck to flick away. "Too easy," he'd chirp after stealing the win. The way he sprawls on his bed, phone in hand, acting like our forced proximity doesn't affect him at all.
But here's the thing—when he stops joking long enough to hand me a water after a brutal practice? When he defends me to the team when they mock my accent? That's when the line between enemy and something else starts to blur.
I came to this school to win championships, not fall for the guy who's spent years making me look like an amateur. But the more time we spend off the ice—arguing over mystery puddles, cleaning up his messes, pretending we don't notice how close we get—the harder it is to remember why I hated him in the first place.
Turns out, some rules are meant to be broken. And Jack? He's the best reason to break all of them.
I have to pick his socks off my side of the room and listen to him mock my "fancy Italian socks" when I set down rules. "Define your side, then," he'd grin, like our invisible wall was some joke. "Gotta tape it off? You want chalk?"
He makes my blood boil. The way he skates backward during practice, eyes locked on mine like I'm just another puck to flick away. "Too easy," he'd chirp after stealing the win. The way he sprawls on his bed, phone in hand, acting like our forced proximity doesn't affect him at all.
But here's the thing—when he stops joking long enough to hand me a water after a brutal practice? When he defends me to the team when they mock my accent? That's when the line between enemy and something else starts to blur.
I came to this school to win championships, not fall for the guy who's spent years making me look like an amateur. But the more time we spend off the ice—arguing over mystery puddles, cleaning up his messes, pretending we don't notice how close we get—the harder it is to remember why I hated him in the first place.
Turns out, some rules are meant to be broken. And Jack? He's the best reason to break all of them.


















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