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And I think thatshedoesn’t feel like she has to be on for me either, like she’s just herself when we’re together. Sometimes, it feels like women are being who they think Iwantthem to be, or whoever they need to be for me to take them to bed, and that can get old pretty quick.
We opened the season a week ago to a completely packed house. I don’t think anyone can deny that at least a part of that has to be due to Hattie. She’s been working her ass off to turn everything with the organization around. Events, fan outreach, social media—everything you can think of. Almost every day she’s set up outside the locker room with Nat and a camera and some kind of question for all of us to answer: what super power would we like to have; if we weren’t hockey players, what would we want to be; who were our childhood crushes. Sometimes she throws in riddles or brain teasers just to make us sweat I think. It’s made coming to practice even more fun and we all look forward to theMac Question of the Day. The videos she posts of the answers all clipped together are great—and usually hilarious—and even I’ve made a point to get on social media to check them out.
We’ve had three more home games since the opener and Hattie’s been at every one of them, always finding her way down to the glass instead of hanging out in one of the boxes up top, which always makes me smile. All of the guys absolutely love her and she’s quickly become an unofficial part of the team, like a little sister or something almost.
One night after practice, me, Hattie, Nat, Rizz, Jules, and a handful of other guys go to a sports bar around the corner from the arena.
“Offsides is when the player crosses the blue line before the puck” Hattie says, a little haughtily, answering Rizzo’s question. We’ve been quizzing her on the rules to help her really learn all the ins and outs of the game.
Rizz throws his hands up in triumph. “She can be taught!” Hattie tosses a fry at him but he merely picks it up and sticks it in his mouth, grinning at her.
“High-sticking,” Jules says, chiming in.
“When one of y’all hauls off and whacks another one above the Mason-Dixon line like a heathen.” We all laugh at that and she takes a little bow.
“Ok, ok, let’s try a real test,” I say over the rim of my glass, giving her a challenging look. She arches her brow, giving me one right back. “Rapid fire hockey slang.”
Jules laughs. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”
“Psh, bring it on. I hear all y’all talking your ridiculous nonsense all the time. I got this.”
“Says the girl who said something wascattywompusnot five minutes ago.” I give a pointed look. She rolls her eyes. “For every wrong answer, you take a drink,” I say, upping the stakes.
“Bring it on, Shep.”
“Alright. Sin Bin”
“Psh, that’s easy. Penalty Box. Where most of y’all belong at all times, both on and off the ice, might I add.”
Rizz raises his glass. “To the Vipers Sin Bin! May it ever be full of our depraved, sinning selves.” His gaze lingers on Nat as he says it, eyes sparkling with obvious flirtation and invitation. He knows better than to go there, but he can’t help flirting with anything with a pulse. We all raise our glasses and cheers, “hear hears!” ringing out around the table.
“I think we should get shirts made. Make it an official club,” Hattie says, grinning. Another round of cheers to that idea, and I guess now our little group has nowofficiallybecome the Vipers Sin Bin.
“Ok, ok: biscuit.”
“Oh, the puck, right?” I nod and she grins.
“Barn.”
“The rink.” She gives a cocky waggle of her shoulders and I narrow my eyes, bumping Jules with my shoulder, telling him we need to up the ante here. “I thought this was supposed to be hard?”
“Alright, hot shot: Gongshow,” Jules offers, crossing his hands over his chest.
“Uhhh…shit.” She takes a drink and we all boo. She tells us to fuck off and then waves on for the next one.
“Chicklets.”
She scrunches her nose. “Gum?” She ducks her head and takes another drink. “Oh wait no! It’s teeth right?! That doesn’t count! I got that one!” We all laugh and keep up the game.
“Facewash!”
“Yard sale!”
“Beaver Tap!”
Hattie sets her beer down after her third drink. “Alright, ain’t no way these are all real hockey terms. Y’all are makin’ shit up.” Her accent gets a little thicker the more she drinks and I’m not the only one who notices.
“Ain’t no way, huh? Dart tootin’!” Bobby says mockingly and Hattie shoves him playfully in the shoulder. I’ve never really talked to Bobby before tonight, but I like him a lot. He’s down to earth and seems like a really good dude.
