Page 27 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

We head toward the locker room, and I feel a hand on my shoulder, squeezing.

"So were you just pretending to be my big brother so you could fuck my girl?"

I stop dead, turn around, grab him by the wrist, and hold it up. "Don't touch me," I say, a smile on my face. I'm not going to get angry with this punk.

He stands there, seething.

"I'm going to say this to you one time, Elliott, because we're teammates and I feel like I owe you respect because of that. Number one, I'm not your big brother. Number two, you treat women like shit. Number three, if I ever hear Erica's name coming out of your mouth again—or any mention or any inference regarding her—I will knock your fucking front teeth out of your mouth and make you swallow them.

"I don't know where the hell you think you're going or who you think you are, but you're a fucking rookie on this team, and I can take you out and have you blackballed from joining any other team in the league. So you know what? I want to ensure that every woman in New York City is safe from the likes of you. I've got eyes all over. So you better play your cards right."

"You're telling me you never said a lie to a woman, too?—"

I hold my hand up. "This isn't about me. This is about you. Now, Elliott, when you joined the team, you made a comment to me. You said you were really excited to learn from me. Was that the truth or was that a lie?"

"I mean, it was the truth," he mumbles. "I thought you were a cool dude."

"I'm the coolest dude you're ever going to fucking meet. So if you really want to learn from me, then you will listen and pay attention."

"Fine. Whatever. If you were into her, you should—" He pauses. "My bad. I was just joshing you. I mean, I don't really care. I can get any girl I want. She's not the only woman in the world. She's not even really my type. Oh, wait, are you going to get upset at that, too?"

I smile at him. "I'm not upset. I'm just telling you that I don't like the way that you speak about or treat women. I have sisters, and let me just tell you, women have enough shit going on in their lives without dealing with jackass men."

"Oh, whoa. What are you, like a feminist or something?"

"And what if I am?"

"I never heard of a feminist playing hockey."

"I have a feeling you haven't heard of many things, Elliott." I take a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shower, and then I'm going to get something to eat, because if you didn't realize, we have a game tomorrow that's pretty fucking important. So why don't you worry about that, and get your shit together on the ice, not worry about me and my personal life."

"Whatevs," he says, but he nods.

I give him one more death glare, then make my way into the locker room. He doesn't follow immediately behind me, but I don't care. Hopefully, I scared the shit out of him. I don't want to deal with him. I open my locker, pull out a towel, and dry the sweat off my face. I grab my duffel bag and head toward the showers.

My mind goes to Erica. I wonder how her dates are going. I wonder if she's met anyone. I wonder if she's going to win the bet. I doubt it because her list is quite ridiculous. I don't know one man in my life who would fit even half the things she'slooking for. But she's special. And she's beautiful. And if anyone is going to meet an amazing guy, it would be someone like Erica.

I want to call her, but I don't have her number. I'm mad at myself for not getting it that evening, even though I’m not sure she would have given it to me.

I grab my phone from my duffel bag and call Wes. He answers on the second ring.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi. How's it going? How's Sabrina?"

"Good, good. I'm taking her to Vermont next weekend, so I'm just checking out little bed-and-breakfasts. I guess she watched some show on TV where they went to Vermont, and now I've got to make it all sweet and romantic." He laughs. "God forbid I take her to an Airbnb. Anyway, I'm not complaining. I'm sure you didn't call to hear about my little planned excursion. How are you doing?"

"I'm good. I just wanted to let you know that everything is okay with Elliott, and he’s not going to be bothering Erica again.”

“Who?” Wes says. “What are you talking about?”

“Elliott. The guy she went to meet on the date the other night—my teammate.”

“Oh, yeah," he says, "the dude you said was a dickhead, so you went to make sure she was okay."

"Yeah, him. Well, I just wanted to let you know that he won't be bothering your sister again."

"Has he been bothering her?" His tone changes. "Do I need to sort him out?"