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Wait, what did he just say?
Shit.
“What shirt?” I ask, not making eye contact.
Yup, just play dumb. He didn’t see you leave with it on.
“The shirt you took from my room with my name on it.” He moves so he’s right in front of me, not letting me dodge him.
I make a show of thinking about it.
“Nope. Not ringing any bells.” I shrug.
I don’t really care about the shirt, but I do not want to admit I took it. I think I’ve had enough embarrassment for the day.
He laughs.
“Funny. Really funny, but I’m going to get my shirt back.” His smile falters into a straight line.
What’s his deal?
It’s just a shirt. It’s not like I’m going to parade around in it pretending I’m his girlfriend.
“Well, good luck with that.” I shrug again.
I could just give it to him. I brought it with me. I took it off this morning and for some reason put it in my gym bag. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just didn’t want the evidence lying around my room.
“I know you took it.” Nick follows me to the other rack of weights.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hiss at him. “I don’t have your shirt.”
Hell, it’s my shirt now. I earned it. I can keep it if I want to.
With that, I walk away.
Why does he care so much about it anyway?
They give those out to the players all the time. I don’t see the big deal. Plus, I bet tons of girls are walking around with one of his shirts. It’s like a trophy.
I earned my trophy.
I got nothing the first time but a fantasy to last me the summer. This time I got a shirt.
Layla catches up to me later in the locker room while I pack my stuff up to leave.
I dodged Nick and her for the rest of my shift. Keeping my head down, I did actual work. It helped that we actually got busy while students dragged themselves out of bed and to the gym in the afternoon.
It also helped that the rest of the hockey team came in with their trainer keeping them busy.
“I’m supposed to ask you for Nick’s shirt back.” Layla rolls her eyes. “Well actually, I’m supposed to beg and plead for the whereabouts of said shirt.”
“What?” I stare at her blankly.
What the hell is going on here? It’s just a dumb shirt!
“Greg was telling me that you took Nick’s lucky shirt and he was freaking out about it this morning, and you won’t give it back.” Her lips tighten waiting for my response. “Did you take his lucky shirt? I said that didn’t sound like something you’d do.”
Oh fuck.
