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Inside, Mason’s things were in his cubby, but he was nowhere to be seen. The muted sounds of running water came from the showers. Kingston sat down to untie his skates, and as I faced my locker to strip off my pads, I couldn’t help but take advantage of the empty room, my curiosity pecking at me. “How long have you been with her?” I asked, keeping my back turned to the room as I threw the last of my upper body pads into my cubby. I was down to my leg pads and skates.
“Almost eight months now.”
I spun on my skates. Kingston was sitting in his cubby, his skates laid next to him. Copying him, I sat down in mine and shook my head. “Really, bud?”
“What?”
I unlaced the last of my pads and skates. “You’ve been together for eight months, and she’s only now getting serious? You should count yourself lucky she held off this long.”
“Getting serious?” He cocked his head to the side, and I fought the urge to pat his hair like I did with Mason and Drew when they were being stupid men. Then it struck me; Kingston and I were in this same position not even a day ago, but now, instead of glaring at each other, we were having a heartto heart.
I tugged off my skates, contemplating. Maybe making friends wouldn’t be so hardafter all.
“Yes,” I said. “Getting serious … well, she was probably already pretty serious. But it takes a minute for men to catch up sometimes. It’s alright, you got there eventually. Mostly.” I finally freed myself from my pads and was unencumbered by anything but my undershirt and leggings. “Look, hooking up with an athlete is fun, but we’re hard to date. We have crazy schedules, and we care about the game more than our partners usually do. If she wants you to spend more time with her than you do at the arena, she’s ready to get serious. Serious enough to have a say in your career and your life—marriageserious.”
Understanding filled his face, then apprehension. “But we’re not even living together. It’s way too soon to even start thinking about rings.”
I shrugged. “You’re saying you don’t know anyone in the league who got married to someone they knew less than a year?” Because I knew more than a few. Athletes had high-stressed, fast-paced jobs, and our relationships tended to be justthe same.
Kingston must too because his face soured. “How do you know allof this?”
I pointed at myself. “Girl who dates girls.” That was enough explanation, even if it was carefully worded. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“What’s this about lesbians?” Mason asked as he barged into the room, dripping wet, with a towel around his hips. I jolted backward into my cubby. I hadn’t even noticed the water shutting off. Instead, I had been leaning forward as if I was trying to get as close as possible to Kingston while still staying acrossthe room.
“Just thinking how much easier it would be if I were gay,” Kingston joked bemusedly. “At least then I would understand my partner. It must be so much easier for you to be a lesbian, Warren. Especially in the NHL.” He stood, turned to face his cubby, and stripped offhis shirt.
Behind his tattooed, muscled back, Mason and I exchanged matching shocked looks. Kingston’s little throw-away comment was way too close to home.
Mason coughed out a fake laugh then changed the subject. “So, what did Coach want?”
I thumbed at Kingston, who was organizing his things. “He’s my new mentor. Apparently, he’s supposed to help me make friends since I need them orwhatever.”
Mason was just as taken aback as we had been. “What? Seriously? Coach said that?”
Kingston turned around with an eyebrow raised at Mason’s incredulous tone.
I grimaced at what I knew was coming.
“Ha!” Mason cheered. “I’ve told her the same thing a dozen times, and Coach agreeswith me!”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you’re amazing, Mase.”
“I know. You should listen to me allthe time.”
“Oh, go dry off and leaveme alone.”
Kingston watched our back and forth with his usual flat expression. Then a smirk flashed across his face, faster than lightning. “You should also take a shower,” he said to me.
I took a sniff of my clothes and reeled back. “Oh, damn.”
I was about to playfully chirp back about pots and kettles when Kingston faced his locker again and dragged down his boxer briefs. I saw a glimpse of toned ass and calmly, respectfully, faced my locker. Seconds later, footsteps disappeared into the showers.
“You want me to wait for you?” Mason asked somewherebehind me.
I cleared my throat and forced out a neutral tone. “Nah. I’ll see you later.” My car had gotten to the city that morning, and I drove myself to the stadium. Mason was officially free from chauffeur duty.
As Mason scrubbed dry, I said goodbye to him then headed for my own shower.
