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I stood in front of the blank TV while the rest of the girls filed in and either picked a chair or sat on the floor.
“What’s with the iron head?” Anna asked and there were a few chuckles.
“It’s a new hot roller system I’m trying out,” Jillian spoke up. “The curls are supposed to be amazing.”
Anna frowned. “It looks like a torture device.”
“It feels like one, too,” I said, twisting my head from side to side. The curlers were not only hot but heavy. “Anyway, I wanted to check in with you guys and see how the first few days have gone? Any issues?”
“This place is like paradise and I never want to leave,” Niki said, and the rest of the girls nodded and agreed.
“The view ain’t that bad, either,” Gianna said, “those boys are fine to look at.” Most of them laughed then started talking amongst themselves. I heard a few of the men’s names pop up.
I spoke louder to get their attention, “That’s what we need to talk about. The guys are—all very good looking.”
“No, they’re damn hot,” Gianna said, and everyone started laughing.
“And we all live in the same building,” I pointed out as I crossed my arms.
“Exactly. Easy access,” Gianna shouted and that caused an even larger uproar.
I took a deep breath once they settled down. “Or awkwardness because you have to see that person every day in the courtyard and at the rink.”
Everyone was now completely silent. “The way I see it, we’re all working together even though they’re playing in a different league. It’s important that we hold a level of—respect for the men. Like we would in a workplace,” I said to the group.
“I wanted to reiterate and expand on what the rules are here. Any kind of romantic or physical relationship between players is off limits.” After I said that, a lot of their eyes widened and there were a few gasps amongst them.
From the looks on some of their faces, they all hadn’t quite believed what the TV hosts had said about the ‘rules’ of living here.
“Uh, G, we’ve seen the pics of you and Beau.” Gianna said with raised eyebrows. I could see Jillian smile at that, so I glared back.
“Those pictures were not what they look like. Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen,” I said the same thing I’d said over and over the last few days to them. “I feel really strongly about this. Getting involved with the men will create nothing but bad feelings for the next how many months? I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”
Niki started talking, “I agree with Gigi. They’re nice to look at but most of them are players on and off the ice. I say we friend-zone them. Y’all are annoying as heck with your romantic problems as it is. If you’ve got an ex boyfriend or ex hookup living in the same building that’ll suck even harder.”
Niki was always the voice of reason and I loved her sweet little face even more now.
“Oh my gosh, all that hotness gone to waste,” Gianna said and shook her head as she leaned back on her hands on the floor. “I think Gigi’s right, too, though. We’re here for the long haul and if Marcel and Angelique get wind of something going on here, we might end up at some crappy motel for the rest of the season.”
She’d brought up a great point. Most of us had in fact spent weeks and months staying in questionable, cheap hotels as we traveled for hockey. This place was incredible compared to anything I’d ever stayed in. We were unbelievably lucky to be here.
I let them mutter and mumble amongst themselves for a while.
“Good work, ladies. I think it’s for the best,” I said, feeling like a load had been removed from my shoulders.
The meeting was short, nobody had any huge concerns. Yet.
Most of the girls stuck around to talk and watch TV. I had stuff to do back at my place but I promised Jillian I’d be back in a half hour for her to take out my curlers—speaking of which, they still felt hot, maybe even hotter than before.
She didn’t seem concerned, so I shoved that particular worry to the side and took off back to my place.
Once I got outside, I stretched my tight, aching muscles.
These extra practices with Beau—on top of our other practices and training—were killing me. Of course, I’d never admit it. Five days in a row of one-on-one with him on the ice had done me in.
“I thought you said you weren’t sore?” I heard Beau call from the hot tub. His tanned, muscled arms rested on the edge. The water bubbled and swirled around his toned pecs and wide shoulders. I inwardly groaned at the sight.
Moseying over to him, I said, “I’m not, I was just stretching.”
