Player With An Attitude.

Ezra's Pov.

"I didn't know what I was thinking, agreeing to this stupid thing, and now I look like this loser."

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and immediately regretted every decision that had led me to this moment. The oversized hockey jersey hanging from my body was the biggest offender.

It was way too big.

The sleeves practically swallowed my hands, and the hem nearly reached my thighs. Across the back was Liam's name printed in bold letters like some kind of advertisement.

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, there were glitters on my face. I touched my cheek and stared at the silver dust sticking to my fingers.

I still had no idea how that happened.

Actually, that was a lie. I knew exactly how it happened.

Liam happened.

Five minutes before leaving the house, he'd somehow convinced me that wearing face paint would make me look "supportive."

I should have known better.

The moment I'd agreed, he'd attacked me with glitter. Now I looked like a disco ball supporting a hockey team.

I hated everything.

The only thing stopping me from turning around and going back home was the promise of a month without chores.

Thirty days.

That was the only reason I was here, not because I cared about hockey or because I wanted to support Liam. Definitely not because I wanted to spend my Friday night surrounded by screaming sports fans.

No.

One month of freedom to binge read books was at stake here, I looked at my reflection one final time. The jersey was still ugly, and the glitter was still embarrassing.

My life was still a disaster.

With a sigh, I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs. Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing outside the university's ice arena.

The building was huge and wide.

Students poured through the entrances in groups, laughing and talking excitedly. Some wore jerseys. Some carried banners. Others had their faces painted in the team's colors.

The amount of enthusiasm surrounding a game was honestly terrifying.

People acted like they were attending the most important event in human history, I adjusted the collar of the jersey and walked inside.

The noise hit me immediately, music blasted through the speakers and people shouted over one another. Someone nearby blew an air horn, which made me nearly jump out of my skin.

Why would anyone willingly come here?

The arena was already packed despite the game not starting for another thirty minutes. Rows and rows of seats stretched around the rink while players skated across the ice during warmups.

I looked around for Liam.

Nothing.

A few minutes later, I found one of his teammates and asked where he was.

"Team meeting," the guy said before skating away.

Great.

So much for seeing Liam before the game, now I was stuck here alone. I reluctantly made my way toward the section reserved for students.

The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone. If I couldn't read a book, then scrolling through social media would have to do.

At least until the game started.

A few minutes passed peacefully, then somebody sat beside me. I glanced up, seeing a blonde girl smiled brightly.

She looked about my age.

Maybe a little older.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." Her eyes immediately landed on my jersey, specifically Liam's name then a strange look crossed her face.

"Wait."

I already didn't like where this was going.

"Are you dating Liam?"

I stared at her, and she stared back. For a second, neither of us moved, then I made a gagging sound.

The girl looked stunned like she wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"What made you think that?"

She pointed toward my jersey. "The jersey."

I looked down, then back at her.

Then down at the jersey again. "I still don't understand."

The girl laughed. "That's what puck bunnies do."

I frowned. "What the hell is a puck bunny?"

Her eyes widened. "You don't know?"

"No."

She looked genuinely shocked.

Like I'd just admitted I didn't know how to breathe.

"A puck bunny is basically a hockey player's girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Or boyfriend."

"Oh."

"They follow the players around."

"Oh."

"They wear jerseys."

I looked down at myself, then immediately wished I hadn't. "Oh."

The girl nodded. "Yeah."

For a second, I simply sat there processing that information then I physically shuddered. "No."

"No?"

"No." The word came out stronger than intended, the girl just watched me.

I pointed toward the name on my back. "That's my brother."

Her eyes widened.

For half a second, she looked shocked then her entire face lit up. "Oh my God."

I suddenly became nervous, that reaction wasn't normal. "You're Liam's brother?"

"Unfortunately."

Her smile somehow grew wider. "I didn't know Liam had a brother."

"Now you do."

She shifted closer.

I immediately noticed.

People invading my personal space was one of my least favorite things, we had known each other for less than three minutes.

Why was she moving closer?

"I'm Chloe," she said.

"Ezra."

"Wow."

I frowned. "What?"

"You guys don't look alike."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult. Before I could decide, Chloe moved even closer.

My discomfort immediately increased.

Yet somehow she was already sitting close enough for me to count her eyelashes, I subtly leaned away.

She didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe she did and simply didn't care.

Either option was concerning.

"So what's it like being Liam's brother?" she asked.

"Normal."

"Come on."

"It is normal."

"You have to have stories."

"I really don't." She looked disappointed, I wasn't sure why.

Liam was just a person.

A very annoying person.

A sudden shout echoed across the arena, the sound was loud enough to cut through the conversations around us. Almost everyone nearby turned toward the rink, including me.

A coach stood near one side of the ice looking furious. Even from this distance, I could tell he was angry because he was practically vibrating.

In front of him stood a player.

The coach was speaking rapidly while the player remained silent. Or at least mostly silent. His expression looked anything but calm. Actually, he looked annoyed.

No.

Annoyed wasn't the right word.

Pissed off.

That was the right word, the player looked completely pissed off. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were tense.

Every part of him practically screamed irritation.

It honestly looked less like a conversation and more like a hostage situation, eventually the coach threw his hands into the air and stormed away.

The player remained exactly where he was.

For a moment, he simply stood there. Then he ran a hand through his dark hair and muttered something under his breath.

Even from across the rink, I could tell he wasn't happy. I probably should have looked away instead, I kept staring.

Partly because I was curious.

Mostly because he looked like he was seconds away from punching someone, then his head lifted and our eyes met.

I immediately froze.

Well.

This was awkward.

For several seconds, neither of us looked away. His expression didn't change. If anything, he looked even more irritated. Like he was somehow offended by my existence, which was impressive considering we'd never met.

Then his eyes narrowed.

And before I could look away, his lips moved. “Mind your business.”

What the—?

The player turned away before I could react, leaving me staring after him in complete confusion.

What the hell was his problem?