Brains Behind the Puck

No One's prize

The drive back is quiet but not in that tense, awkward way you'd expect. It's more like... suspenseful. Like I'm sitting on a bomb, waiting for it to go off. James keeps trying to make small talk, dropping a random comment every few minutes. But I'm not listening. Not really.

My brain's too busy replaying Alex's "We need to talk" text like it's some kind of horror movie on a loop.

We need to talk.

The four most dreaded words ever invented. Worse than "We need to break up" or even "I'm seeing someone else." Because we need to talk just leaves everything open. What do you mean, Alex? Are you confessing to a secret lab in our basement? Or maybe you finally want to apologize for being the human equivalent of a brick wall?

James pulls into the driveway and shuts off the engine, leaning back with that classic James smirk. "Well, that was... something," he says, dragging out the last word with way too much glee.

I force a small smile, knowing he's just baiting me. "Yeah. It was."

We get out of the car, and the second my sneakers hit the ground, I see him. Of course. There's Alex, casually leaning against the porch railing, looking like he's stepped right out of a GQ spread. Phone in one hand, coffee cup in the other, like this is just another day in the life of a guy who clearly doesn't give a damn. When he sees us, he lifts his chin in that typical bro greeting, his lips curling into a smug half-smile.

No stormy eyes. No dramatic jaw clench. Just... Alex. Cool, composed, and annoyingly unaffected. Like he doesn't give a damn that I was out with his best friend. Meanwhile, my heart? Still doing that stupid flippy thing, because apparently, I have zero self-respect.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," James mutters as we walk toward the porch, a smirk playing on his lips. "This should be fun."

"James," I warn, but of course, he just keeps going, enjoying every damn second of this.

Alex's eyes flick between the two of us, taking in the whole coming-home-together vibe. No fire, no jealousy—just that annoyingly unreadable expression. He finally speaks, his tone casual. "Nice night?" He takes a sip from his cup like he's about to narrate the next episode of a coffee commercial.

James rolls his eyes, not even trying to hide his sarcasm. "Oh yeah, real nice. We had dinner, we talked—loads of fun. Too bad you missed it."

Alex raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he's this close to smirking. "I'm sure it was." Then, his gaze slides over to me, softening just a fraction. "We need to talk, Sunshine."

James steps forward, slipping into Big Brother mode like it's second nature. "Not sure now's the time, Hawk. We just got back. Maybe you should give Riley a moment for the goodnight kiss?"

Goodnight kiss?! My heart practically rockets out of my chest, and I swear I see something flash in Alex's eyes—just for a second—before his poker face snaps back into place. But James? He's clearly having a field day. He leans against the side of the porch, like he's settling in for his own personal soap opera.

Alex doesn't even flinch. He just takes another slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not here to play games, Sunshine. You and I need to talk." His voice is steady, but there's something simmering beneath the surface.

I cross my arms, feeling the tension in the air start to spark. "Oh, now you want to talk? After ignoring me all day?"

James lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Sounds like someone's been ghosting."

Alex's jaw tightens, but his tone stays calm. "I had some things to take care of."

"Right," I snap, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "And those things didn't include, oh I don't know, a single text to explain where you disappeared to?"

Alex sighs, his eyes flicking to James like he's trying to decide if this conversation is worth having with an audience. "Riley—"

But before he can finish, James cuts in, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You know, Hawk, communication is key in any relationship. Might wanna work on that."

Alex doesn't even blink. His gaze locks onto mine, steady and intense. "I'm not here to argue in front of an audience. We need to talk—alone."

His voice is sharp now, like he's drawing a line in the sand, and my stomach does another uncomfortable flip. But before I can respond, James jumps in, all mock innocence.

"Alone? That's cute, Hawk. But last I checked, you were the one who pulled a Houdini. Now you want privacy?"

"James," I say, trying to stop this before it goes any further. But he's not listening.

"I mean, I get it," he continues, pretending to think about it. "You don't exactly have a gold star when it comes to, you know, not disappearing the day after... Maybe you're worried you're losing your touch."

Alex's eyes shift to James, something dangerous flashing there. But instead of biting back, he takes another deliberate sip of his coffee, calm as ever.

"Worried?" His voice is silky smooth. "James, if I were worried, I wouldn't have let her go out with you in the first place."

And that's it. That's the last straw. Something inside me just snaps. The pressure that's been building up all night—no, all day—finally hits its breaking point.

"Let me?" I whirl on Alex, my eyes blazing. "Are you kidding me right now?"

James looks like he's about to burst out laughing, but one look at my face, and he wisely shuts up. Alex, though? He stands there, his calm mask still firmly in place, and that just makes me even angrier.

"You let me?" I repeat, my voice trembling with fury. "You don't let me do anything, Alex. I'm not your property."

James lets out a low whistle under his breath, and I don't even glance at him. My attention is fully on Alex, all the hurt and frustration bubbling to the surface.

"You ghost me all day, then show up here acting like you can just swoop in and—what? Own me? Give me permission?" I throw my hands up. "I don't need your permission, Alex. I don't need it from either of you."

Alex's face tightens, his cool facade cracking just a little. "Riley, that's not—"

"I don't care what you meant!" I cut him off, voice sharp. "The fact you even said it is enough. You both are treating this like some kind of contest, like I'm a prize to be won. But newsflash—I'm not."

James shifts, his smirk fading, and I turn on him, my voice shaking with anger. "And you!" I point at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? This whole back-and-forth, making little comments like this is a game. It's not funny, James."

For once, James looks like he wants to say something, but I don't give him the chance. "I'm not a puck you two can just shoot around. I'm done with both of you. Take your macho posturing and shove it."

And for a moment, there's silence. They're both standing there, looking like two little boys caught in the act. But I'm not waiting around for their apologies. I've said my piece.

Without another word, I spin on my heel and stomp towards the house, my pulse pounding in my ears. Luke and Michael are in the living room, lounging with popcorn like they've stumbled into some unexpected drama.

"Uh, Ri—" Michael starts, his eyes wide.

"Not now, Mickey," I snap. "Save it for the rerun."

I take the stairs two at a time, feeling like I'm about to explode. I slam my door shut, leaning against it as I try to catch my breath, steady my thoughts.

But it's no use. My mind's a mess—Alex, James, everything in between. I'm tired of being caught in their game.

I'm Riley McKenzie. And I'm done being anyone's prize.