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I got a few more kudos from the guys as we settled down to wait for Coach. Beside me, Lukin was seething. Dude needed to chill. He got to play tomorrow, and if he spent more time practicing instead of hating me, he might already be the permanent goalie.
As it was, the team hadn’t made a decision yet. The season was coming to an end soon and there was no way we were going to the playoffs, not after Hall and Stanton, the Blizzards’ other goalies, were injured at the beginning of the season. So Coach and management have been trying out new plays and switching between Lukin and me as goalie to see who fit the best. There was no guarantee that either of us were going to stay after this season, but it was rumored that Hall might be out for good. When Stanton comes back, the Blizzards will be in need of another goalie. So, as far as Lukin and I were concerned, the competition was on.
After everyone fell quiet, Coach gave a quick overview, knowing we were all ready to wash off. It was a tough game, and everybody was sweating through their gear. Most guys already had their sweaters thrown in their lockers and were slowly stripping their gear off. I was right there with them, stripping off my top layers too.
The second Coach finished talking, half the guys streamed into the showers. I went to the women’s showers and enjoyed thehot water.
I took my time washing up, and by the time I returned to the locker room, wrapped in a towel, most of the guys were already dressed.
I quickly went to my locker and pulled the curtain surrounding my area closed. It was a struggle to pull on my panties and bra while scrubbing my hair dry with my towel, but I managed. Decent enough in my sports bra and boy short panties, I yanked the curtain open and immediately jumped back from the big body crowdingmy space.
“Jesus, man,” I breathed out and shoved Kingston lightly for scaring me. My hand stuck to his shower-wet clavicle for a second before I pulled it away. He was only in his slacks, his tattooed torso and arms left bare. I kept my eyes firmly on his and not any lower.We’re in the fucking locker room with the whole team, I reminded myself harshly, not wanting a repeat of the other day.And he’s just your friend!
His scar twitched. “Damn, Warren. Where are those reflexes from thirty minutes ago?” Kingston chirped, his voice low and rough. After the roaring of the crowds, his voice was like balm to my ears.
No!
I cleared my throat and wiped the corner of my eye with my middle finger, pointedly keeping eye contact with the distracting man.
Kingston smirked again but stopped teasing me. “You want to hang with ustonight?”
“Depends. What arewe doing?”
“Well, we can’t go out. We have a curfew, and I stopped showing up hungover to games twelve years ago.”
“You got drafted twelve years ago,” I pointed out.
“I only went through that pain once, Warren, but it was enough.” He shuddered in exaggeration, and I chuckled. “Jones and I are just going to hang out at the hotel bar. We each get one beer tonight, and we want to make it last. Frey’s invited too.”
“Okay,I’m down.”
“Cool, but you might want to wear a little more than that.” He gestured to my half-undressed self.
I almost snorted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me in less. Still, I turned to my locker, bent down to put on my slacks, then turned back around. “Better?” I asked Kingston, who was still standing there, his back rod-straight.
He looked at something over his shoulder and coughed into his hand. “Yeah,” he said to me, his voice even rougher than before, and walked back to his lockerabruptly.
I shrugged off his weirdness and finisheddressing.
I showed up at the hotel bar late and in my pajamas. Mason, Kingston, and Jones were sitting at a dimly lit table in the corner. There were only a handful of other people in the place—a couple sitting in a far booth, nuzzling into each other, and a few loners at the bar top.
I went up to the guys’ table and Mason immediately started laughing at my pajamas. I was wearing a cropped tank top and long shorts. The matching set was blue, fluffy, and covered with little white clouds. I did a twirl in my thick socks, showing off the outfit, then collapsed in the empty chair between him and Kingston, Jones across from me.
“Shut up,” I said. “I’m cozy.”
“You look it,” Jones said with a playful smirk.
The boys were in simple shorts and t-shirts. Lame. At least one of us had some flair.
“Hey. She won us the game today. She can wear whatever she wants,” Kingston said. I snapped and pointed at him in victory.
I was about to launch into some childish taunting, but a waiter showing up stopped the chirps from escapingmy mouth.
“What can I get for you, ma’am?” the kid asked. He looked about my age, but his wide eyes and floppy hair gave him an air ofinnocence.
I ordered a glass ofred wine.
“Wine?” Jones asked with amused judgment as the kid left. The boys each had a light beer in front of them, but I hadn’t seen any of them takea sip yet.
