GET THAT PUCK

Rules and Exceptions

Raev

The campus cafeteria smells like burnt coffee and mystery fries, full of students juggling trays and gossip. I spot her instantly. She's on a bench table, leaning back, scrolling through her phone, completely unbothered by the chaos around her. She's changed out of her morning outfit into oversized pants, a loose top, and a leather jacket that hangs perfectly on her shoulders. Converse highs peek out from under her pants, and her Prada bag is casually slung next to her like she owns the place.

I nudge Kane, who's already scanning the crowd like a lost puppy. "There she is," I mutter.

Kane's jaw tightens. His eyes flick to her for a heartbeat too long before he clears his throat. "Yeah... I see her."

I grin, because I know exactly what she's thinking—and it's hilarious.

We walk over. Kane waves, flashing a polite smile, and she tilts her head, giving him the smallest, polite smile in return. But the moment her eyes land on mine, the grin vanishes. Her glare is sharp, silent, and deadly.

Perfect, i got on her nerves again.

I slide onto the bench next to her, thigh to thigh, like it's the most natural thing in the world. She stiffens immediately and tries to distance herself from me, but thank fuck to whoever designed those benches that all she can get as far as an inch because feeling her curves nudging my right side is pure, sweet mother of sweetness.

"Raev," she hisses, leaning in so close her words tickle my ear, "get your ass away from me right now and if you say one word, one single word, about my crush or just maybe point it out, I will cancel driving the beast. Immediately."

I raise my hands in mock surrender. "I'm awfully quiet most of the days."

Which is true because I rarely make unnecessary comments, but she doesn't need to know that she has a special bone to herself.

She narrows her eyes, but I can see the twitch in the corner of her lips—she's trying not to smile.

Kane, completely oblivious, leans forward to grab a tray. His glance flickers toward her and I catch the briefest flash of curiosity, like he senses the tension but doesn't quite know what's fueling it. He chuckles softly, oblivious as ever, and I lean back just a little, enjoying the quiet chaos I've stirred up.

"You are enjoying this," she mutters, voice low.

"Me? Nah. I'm suffering. Every second is agony—my right kidney is probably filing a formal complaint right now. Doesn't he look adorable in that red shirt? I bet you like how the sun is hitting him just right... like he's auditioning for a shampoo commercial." I whisper back, grinning mischievously.

She glares harder, elbow poking mine under the table like a ninja ready to strike. "Raev."

"Okay, okay," I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. "But honestly, I'm just here judging your fries. Who eats curly fries? That's like choosing to suffer. You're better than that."

Her eyes roll so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck, but I catch the tiniest smirk tugging at her lips—an admission of guilt, maybe. Meanwhile, Kane's still obliviously scanning the room, probably wondering if he should start a fan club for the guy in red or wait we already have a Kane fan club.

Her hand drifts near her bag, itching like she's ready to unleash the beast—aka the "cancel the entire universe" button—but she resists. Barely.

I lean in, voice dropping even lower, like I'm sharing state secrets. "You know, you could make this way easier for everyone—just tell him. Or better yet, maybe slip it into his fries. 'Hey, Kane, just so you know, I'm crushing on you like a bad reality TV confession.'"