When I emerge into the locker room to get dressed, most of the other guys are gone, and I get dressed before heading out to where Luke is waiting. As soon as he sees me, his face lights up, and that hits me square in the chest.
“Hey, nice goal,” he says. “And holy shit, you look amazing in that suit.” He runs a hand down my arm, and that, coupled with all the compliments, makes me vibrate.
“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say, so I go in for a fist bump. “Sorry if I kept you waiting, I showered and changed as fast as I could.
“You took a fast shower?” Luke scoffs. “That’s a surprise, considering how long you took yesterday.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I power through it. “That’s because I was alone today. Besides, the soap here doesn’t smell as nice as yours.”
“The soap doesn’t smell goodandyou showered in record time?” He shakes his head, stepping even closer to me. “Maybe I should get up close and inspect the job you did.”
“What, don’t you trust me to wash myself?” I ask, punching Luke on the shoulder.
“Nah, it’s just that hockey players…” Luke jabs me in the chest, “… have a certain kind of reputation for having rank-ass gear.”
“That’sgear, Lukey,” I say. “Not my body. The latter is scrubbed clean of rink stink.”
Luke walks backward and barks out a laugh. “What did you call me?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, trying to ignore the fact that I gave Luke, whose name is all of four letters long, anickname.
He comes closer to me again, a cocky smile playing out on his lips. “No, I didn’t hear what you said. Can you repeat yourself?”
“I called you Lukey.” My voice is barely audible.
He snickers again, holding onto a chair to stabilize himself.
“Don’t dwell on it,” I say, still trying to defuse my nerves.
“Oh my god, you gave me a nickname! That’s funny as fuck.”
I give Luke’s head a light knock with the end of my hockey stick, the same way I do with some of my teammates. “I said, don’t dwell on it.” Trying to stay serious is too hard, and I break into a grin. “You know I’m not a smooth talker.”
“What if I like it?”
“Then I’ll keep saying it,Lukey.” For effect, I pull him into a side hug and shake him in a way that absolutely crosses the border into unambiguous flirtation.
He slips out of my arm with enviable grace and claps me on the shoulder. “It’s getting dark. Do you have a post-game briefing or are you free to go?”
“I’m free to go. Why don’t you come over to mine and chill?” I suggest.
Luke’s face lights up, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the same adorable way that lured me in on Friday. “That sounds great,” he says, stepping around to stand next to me. “You lead the way, Norsy.”
My mouth falls open. “How the hell did you guess my nickname?”
He waves me off. “I used to play hockey, so I’m fluent in nicknames. Of course Norberg is gonna become Norsy.”
I freeze. “You played hockey?”
“Yeah. You’re in Canada, remember? Hockey players as far as the eye can see. I basically lived between the pipes until I was seventeen, but everyone called me Trembs, not Lukey.”
Luke was agoalie? Wild. He’s not nearly weird enough. Maybe it’s something people grow out of. Who knows?
“Anyway,” he says. “We’re going back to yours?”
I nod and lead Luke out of the rink, wincing through the ache in my bruised leg. He follows me for the short walk to my apartment and I let him in, slightly embarrassed at how messy and dull it is. Luke’s apartment screams “stable, career-driven adult.” Mine gives off “exhausted athlete who doesn’t put his socks away.”
At least said socks areclean.
