Page 33 of Hat Trick
“Either.”
“That’s a loaded question.”
Lexi tilts her head to the side and stares at me. “We’re friends, right?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “We are.”
“You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”
“Anything, huh?”
“Yup. I mean, if you mention you make molds of your dick with lunch meat, I’ll probably be concerned, but I’m sure I’ve heard much worse.”
I burst out laughing. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks, and my sides ache because of it. “Fucking hell.Lunch meat?”
“Oh, yeah. Salami. Ham. Turkey, occasionally, and?—”
It’s a shame I don’t have a chance to ask about the logistics behind deli meat dick construction, because the PA announcer is saying my name and inviting me to the ice.
I gulp down a deep breath.
“Hey.” Lexi touches my elbow. “If you really want to get out of here, I’ll sneak you out the back. I’ll even find a sketchy van to make your whole experience memorable.”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
“I’ll be here when you’re finished,” she says.
“Could you… I don’t want to take my crutches out there. Everyone is already going to be giving me sympathetic looks, and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. Will you hold them for me?”
“Of course. And take your time, Riley. I’m sure you’re still getting comfortable with your new machinery, but you’re looking much steadier already. Your limp is much less noticeable, and I bet you’ll be off your crutches while using your prosthetic in no time.”
I nod and trudge down the carpet that’s been rolled out of the tunnel for me. Busting my ass in front of thousands of people sounds like my idea of hell, so I take my time. I follow the path onto the ice and past the bench where my teammates are. They give me high fives and pat my head, whooping and hollering loud enough to make me blush when they bang their sticks against the boards.
Maverick and the captain of the Baltimore Sea Crabs, Benny Fowler, smile from the end of the carpet.
“Good to see you back on the ice, Mitchell,” Benny says, not letting our college rivalry from playing against each other at Michigan and Ohio State follow us to the NHL, let alone here tonight. “That light blue sweater is a fuck ton better than the ugly ass yellow one you used to wear.”
“Like your red was any better.” I hold the puck out in front of me. There are tons of cameras surrounding us. Too many bright lights and someone with a microphone I’m going to avoid like the fucking plague. “And I’m not back on the ice, am I? I’m on this side of the puck drop now. Big fucking whoop.”
“Wow. No more Mr. Nice Guy, huh?” Maverick crouches and pivots toward the camera. Benny mimics him, and I stand between them feeling short as hell without skates on. “Always wondered what you’d be like if you were an asshole. Smile, Mitchy.”
THIRTEEN
RILEY
A camera flasheswhen I drop the puck on the ice. Not flipping anyone off should win me an award, and the smile I plaster on is fake as hell.
At least it gets the job done.
I exchange a handshake with both guys and give the crowd an awkward wave. I’m not used to hearing people chant my name. That kind of attention is normally reserved for players like Maverick and Ethan who enjoying showing off.
Not me, and I don’t like it.
“Wow.” Lexi laughs when I make it back to the tunnel. “Can’t tell if you’re at a hockey game or about to get a root canal.”
“That was painful.”
“People say the same about the dentist.”
