Page 17 of Faking the Goal

I pull again, harder this time, and frown when it refuses to budge. "Uh... did you also forget to mention that your bad habits include breaking bathroom doors?"

He laughs while rinsing his hands. "What?"

"This thing's stuck."

He dries his hands and walks over. "Here, let me try."

I move aside and watch him twist the knob, shove his shoulder against the door, then pull hard enough that the muscles in his arms strain beneath his shirt. After several increasingly aggressive attempts, the door remains stubbornly closed.

"Okay," he says with a small laugh, looking back at me. "I think we're actually stuck."

"Fantastic. Exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of my night."

I shift my weight and immediately regret it when another wave of pressure hits my bladder. My thighs clamp together on instinct, which unfortunately doesn't escape his notice.

"Do you need to...?"

"Nope."

Another squeeze.

I cross my legs.

His mouth twitches.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

He laughs and gestures toward the toilet. "Just go."

"With you standing right there?"

"I'll turn around." He raises both hands, already facing the opposite wall. "Scout's honor. I won't look."

Under normal circumstances, peeing three feet away from some random guy I don't know would rank pretty high on my list of Things Taylor Would Prefer Never to Experience. Unfortunately, my bladder is currently threatening mutiny, and embarrassment loses badly against the possibility of pissing myself at a hockey party.

"You so much as peek and I'm flushing your head down that toilet."

He laughs. "Noted."

I finally give in, and to his credit, he keeps his back completely turned while I pee. The whole thing should probably be mortifying, but somewhere between the alcohol still buzzing pleasantly through me and the sheer relief of finally emptying my bladder, I mostly find the ridiculousness of the situation funny.

"So," he says while studying the wall with exaggerated concentration, "is getting trapped in bathrooms with strange men something you do often?"

I snort. Of course he's flirting with me while I'm fucking peeing.

"Constantly. You're actually my third one tonight."

"Damn. Here I was thinking I was special."

"Sorry to crush your dreams."

"I'll recover."

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. At least he's funny.