Page 2 of Pucking Forbidden

Damn it. It’s not the first time my studies have bored me into a light coma. It’s also not the first time I’ve dreamed about Julian.

Ugh, no! I can’t think about him like that! Needing a distraction, I grab my phone and decide to FaceTime my best friend Lainey. She answers right away, her blond hair tossed into a messy bun, her expression one of pure, unadulterated mischief.

She quickly proves not to be the distraction I was hoping for.

“I’m just saying, Haddie, if a man with shoulders that wide looks at you like he wants to slide you across a kitchen counter, don’t ask questions. You just climb him like a tree.”

I choke on my breath, a violent blush flaring hot and fast across my cheeks. I lean forward on my desk, putting my face directly in front of the camera, trying to use my posture to quiet her down. “Lainey! Oh my god, keep your voice down.”

“We are on a FaceTime call across an entire ocean, you absolute prude. Nobody in England can hear me,” Lainey cackles, her face leaning so close to her camera that her forehead is cut off by the top of the frame. She waves a hand dismissively. “Keep that attitude up, and you’ll stay a virgin forever. Seriously, I’m looking at a picture of your big man right now. Holy fuck, I don’t know how you haven’t ridden that beard like a bucking bronco…”

Click-clack.

A sharp tone cuts through Lainey’s graphic description. The video feed of her laughing face pauses, freezing her mid-gasp. The incoming call banner drops down from the top of the screen, flashing in bold black text.

Dad.

My stomach drops straight out of my ass. Panic spikes through my veins. At the same microsecond, Lainey’s frozen video is practically screaming her last sentence at me in my mind.

“...ridden that beard like a bucking bronco…”

“Lainey, hold on! My dad is calling!” I fumble with the phone. In my frantic haste to silence the call before her highly descriptive vocabulary somehow bleeds through the airwaves or connects, my thumb smashes against the green button to accept my dad's audio call. I switch lines, praying to whatever god handles transatlantic cellular signals that FaceTime actually muted her and that I didn't just accidentally initiate some horrifying video-merge.

“Dad?” I squeak, my voice jumping a full octave. My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Please let her be on hold. Please don't let him hear anything.

“Hadley, sweetie.” My father’s voice is crisp and perfectly modulated. It’s the exact tone he uses right before dismantling a rival sports agency in a contract dispute.

Oh, shit. Business mode. Which means I’m about to be told to do something I absolutely do not want to do.

“I just got off the phone with your academic advisor,” he continues.

“Oh.” I lean back in my desk chair, staring out at the rainy August afternoon and forcing my voice to stay neutral. “Is... is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I was just reviewing your final fall schedule. However, he noted that you've enrolled in an introductory course on childhood literacy and curriculum development. What’s going on with that? Your pre-law track is already grueling enough without wasting elective credits on an education class you don't need. I need you focused on corporate law, not playing teacher.”

My stomach drops. He thinks it’s just a filler class, not realizing it's the only class on my schedule I actually want to take.

I’m wearing an oversized Night Hawks sweatshirt and shorts, and want to bury myself deep into my covers to ward off the chill settling over me. The duvet bunches under my hands. I smooth it out, then wrinkle it again without really thinking about it.

“I just…had an open slot in my schedule,” I murmur. “I thought it’d be interesting…”

“You need to be serious about your future,” he states matter-of-factly. “No distractions, okay? I don’t want you falling behind, so I’ve already told your academic advisor you will be dropping the class.”

I fight the tears of disappointment rising in my eyes.

“All right,” I reply in a deadened tone. “No distractions.”

“That’s my girl.” His voice is a tinge warmer now. “I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, but we’ll talk more later, okay?”

I swallow before answering, “Yeah, okay. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Bye.”

He hangs up the call, and it immediately switches back to Lainey.

“Hads! You okay?” She frowns at me through the screen, instantly reading my expression like an open book. “Was that your Dad? What did he say…?”

“Sorry, Lainey, I’ve got to go,” I mumble. “Love you.”