“Just me. It’s a smaller event, but you still need to be there.”
Only us. What a perfect opportunity to build goodwill.
All of a sudden, I wasn’t so annoyed.
“Okay, we’ll carpool. Send me the details and I’ll pick you up.”
“Wait… what?” Her mouth dropped open as I felt the rightness of the decision settle over me.
“Wear something pretty for me.” I winked as I took off to join my team.
Fine, maybe the last comment had been a jerk move, but if I changed too much, she’d get suspicious about my new decision for us to be besties. It never sat right when someone disliked me, so I was going to change it. Starting now.
Day one of training was hectic. Coach always made a point of pushing us until one of the rookies hurled. This year, it was almost me after the sugary nightmare I’d consumed earlier. Maybe Blair hadn’t spit in it because the drink itself was an act of sabotage.
I sat rink side and peeled my skates off, already thinking of the showers when the devil herself flopped down beside me.
“Hey, I have a questionnaire for you to fill out, but your email address isn’t working. Is it still… sk8godd99 at AOL?”
“Yeah, sorry. I changed it. I’ll give you the new one.” I rubbed the back of my neck, cringing at the email address I’d kept far too long. We had email addresses through the Aces organization, but I never checked it and had tried to make things easier by providing my personal email in my first year. The email I gave her was a new one I’d made with my first name and last name. Like a normal person. And I was equal parts happy and kind of nervous at the evidence of adulthood. Seemed pretty stupid to think like that when I had a million-dollar contract and had lived out of home since going to college, but it was what it was. Blair’s cell rang on the bench beside her, and the look on her face reminded me of how I felt when mine rang sometimes.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, turning her back.
“Hey, Mom, I’m at work at the moment…”
“Duckie! I’m just calling to ask about…” Blair glanced at me and grimaced, stalking away before I could hear more of the conversation. Her family called her Duckie? That was adorable. I tucked that information away for safekeeping and headed for the change rooms, pausing at the sound of my name.
Blair had paused, one hand over her phone like she could keep our interaction quiet from her mother on the other end.
“Can you let them know I’ll be in in a second? I’ll just deal with this quickly.”
I gave her a thumbs up as she returned to her call and continued on my way.
My shirt stuck to me under my gear, the sweat drying in an itchy mess that smelled of salt and musty clothes. My thighs and ass throbbed with a pleasant ache that had been missing from my off-season training. I pushed myself hard, but not first-day-of-training-camp hard. Making a note to buy magnesium at the store on the way home, I found my cubby beside Oscar’s and started to strip off my gear.
The noise in the locker room was about what you’d expect from a group of men over-tired and running on adrenaline and endorphins after a day on the ice. Near deafening. Still, over the dull roar, one voice still managed to edge the others out.
Chet Doyle.
The asshole had an opinion on everything and a belief that every person in his vicinity was aching to know what those opinions were.
We didn’t.
We really didn’t.
His braying laugh cut through the room and, if the flush on the back of Stryker Bell’s neck was anything to go by, he’d just said something highly offensive to amuse himself.
The openly bisexual winger was a frequent target of Doyle’s ‘jokes’ and a quick glance at Oscar told me he was ready to throw down for his line mate. Neither of us had time for Chet’s bullshit.
“Give it a rest,” I drawled before Oscar got any ideas.
“Ah, decided to join us, did you, O’Leary?” Doyle pushed to his feet and strode into the middle of the room like he was ready to hold court or some shit. “Thought you were busy with the hot mess social media bitch.”
“You mean the hot mess that’s so talented she can make even you look good? Nah, we’re finished for now.”
I slipped off my jersey and started shedding padding, hoping he’d leave it at that.
“I always look good. Which is more than I can say for her. Why are you sniffing around that, anyway? Thinking of making her your charity fuck for the season?” Someone on the other side of the locker room made an attempt to shut him up, but he had hooked in with a tenacity that was great on the ice, and fucking annoying anywhere else.
