We all look to Cap. He nods. “What he said. Game faces on, boys!” He follows Coach out. The hallway, like the dressing room, is a place where we normally amp each other up and get excited to play, but this isn’t that kind of game. Or week. Or year.
Dragging sticks and hearts, we make our way to the door and wait for our names to be called by the announcer. He’s blathering on about nothing, something to do with the fundraiser. I grip my sticks and helmet while trying not to stare off into space too hard.
“For reals, what’s up your ass?” Brady asks again, nudging me.
“Nothing, man. Just tired.” I try to shrug it off.
“Red destroyed you last night, didn’t she? You don’t have to be shy, you can tell us. We knew she was too much for you to handle anyway.” He leers and I fight wincing. It’s been two weeks since I saw her last and any mention of her makes my entire body ache. And the worst of it is that I cannot stop thinking about her.
Serves me right to fall for a girl who was only looking for a one-night stand.
The only person who knows Jenny and I are done is Bev, and she called it instant karma and laughed at me.
I don’t imagine telling anyone else is going to go better.
“If you’re not sleeping, you should try this shit I’m taking to help with my energy levels,” Matt mutters. “Sami is making me take it as a trial. Some powder I add to my morning shake that she was asked to test out.”
“Holy shit, ladies, this isn’t brunch. Game faces,” Cap snarls.
I have to laugh at that. “I kinda want some brunch now that you mention it, Cap.”
“Brady, hit him again,” Cap says.
Brady nudges me into the wall, making me grunt.
“Send me the link for the powder,” I mention to Matt as the door opens and Cap is called out and the crowd goes wild. One by one, we make our way to the glistening ice that’s fresh and sparkling from the Zamboni.
Matt gets called. Then me. Then Brady. We wave and smile as we skate out. The cold air, the sound of the fans, and the smell of fresh ice perk me up. I skate to the team we’re playing, running my glove over theirs as I say, “Good luck,” on repeat.
I offer the refs a glove touch and head for my spot in the lineup.
The crowd is going nuts as more of us are called out.
Staring at the back of the other team, I notice a few of the guys aren’t very big. Not just short but slight, even in skates and gear. A flash of red hair sticks out the back of one of the smaller guys. I squint and notice the texture and gloss of the hair. It’s her.
Fuck.
“Is that a girl?” Brady asks Matt. “Is that Red? Lori, why didn’t you tell us she was playing?”
Fuck.
“Where?” Matt asks.
“Right there in front of us,” Brady points a gloved hand in the direction of the silky red hair.
Fuck.
“No way. They don’t let girls play in rec leagues.” Matt’s eyes narrow in on what I’m seeing. “He’s probably one of those metrosexual guys.”
“You’re metrosexual, that’s a girl. That’s Red.”
Fuck.
My heart is racing but sitting in my throat. I haven’t seen her since she told me about her breakup and we said goodbye. I’ve moped like a little teenaged girl for two weeks, barely seeing my friends because of this girl and here she is. In gear. In front of me. I was prepping myself for the possibility I’d see her at the fundraiser, but I don’t know how to act on the ice. It’s mine. My domain. My safe place.
I take a deep breath and tell myself everything will be fine.
It’s just a game of hockey.
She’s just a girl I banged.
None of this is anything to get worked up over.
“Girl player on the team,” one of the other guys in our line mutters.
“Oh shit, that’s Jenny,” another whispers.
“There’s another girl.” Brady points at a blonde with streaks of lighter blonde in a messy bun tucked up inside her helmet.
“The last time I played hockey with girls I was in high school,” the Russian says.
Matt glances at Brady who’s instinctively inspecting them for fuckability. He can’t fight the urge. He wouldn’t cheat on Nat, but the manwhore phase isn’t far enough behind him not to have some of the habits linger. “Keep it in your pants, bro.”
“I haven’t played with girls since I was twelve,” Brady whispers, saving me from overthinking and making me laugh. “You know what I mean, dicks.” He brushes off the laughter.
“Guess that means we’re really not allowed to hit,” Matt adds.
“Oh, I’m gonna hit,” Brady says with a dirty grin. “I’m hitting Red fucking hard. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I saw her yelling at you at the lake. And she shot me in the face. This is war!” He tries to sound fierce but nods at another player. “And I’d bang the goalie. Look at that ass,” he mumbles toward the goalie I hadn’t noticed to Jenny’s left.
“Uhhh, buddy, that’s not a girl,” Matt adds quietly making me laugh for real and Brady squint harder.
The noise of us draws the goalie’s head. As the announcer is introducing the guy who’s about to sing the anthem, the goalie turns back to us flashing a full beard. Brady’s face makes Matt and I laugh louder.
“Damned man buns,” he grumbles as Coach offers us a deadly glare.
We press our lips into a tight
