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Gerard notices me eyeing it and chuckles. “Our cold tub. Gotta take care of the muscles after a game. You guys are welcome to try it out sometime. There’s nothing like submerging yourself in freezing cold water after a grueling practice.”

“Looks cozy,” I say sarcastically.

“It’s not for everyone. But it does help with muscle recovery and reducing inflammation.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” We turn down another hall, and I realize we’re walking in a circle.Interesting layout.

“And here’s the most important part.” Gerard spins around, and I nearly collide with his chest. This close to him, I can see individual droplets of water clinging to his skin.

“Last but not least, I give you…the showers. It’s big enough for the whole team to use at once, which comes in handy after a tough practice or game.”

Jackson waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I bet it does.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Jackson,” I admonish.

Gerard chuckles. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. Mostly just a bunch of sweaty dudes trying to get clean as quickly as possible. See for yourself.”

We turn our heads, and I’m not prepared for the sight that greets me.

Steam rises in thick clouds, obscuring the far end of the room, but what I can see up close is more than enough to short-circuit my brain.

Several players are still in the showers, their naked bodies on full display. Water sluices over rippling muscles and toned flesh. Asses of various sizes are covered in suds. And then there are the dicks.Dear Lord, the dicks.

A small part of me wonders where Gerard falls on the scale of average to holy-shit-that-thing-is-a-monster. Judging by the size of his hands, his feet, and what genetics gifted him in the back, I dare say it’s probably closer to Empire State Building status.

“Whoops!” Gerard quickly ushers us down the hall, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Guess I should have checked that it was empty first.”

He grins bashfully and rubs the back of his neck. Seeing this big, tough hockey player get flustered isstrangely cute.

Meanwhile, Jackson is uncharacteristically quiet. I glance over and see that his face is beet red, too.

I can relate. That was…a lot to take in. I shift uncomfortably and discreetly adjust myself.Thank God for this baggy sweater.

“Anyway.” Gerard clears his throat, snapping us out of it. “Let’s head back. I need to finish getting dressed.”

We follow Gerard to his locker and avert our eyes as he drops his towel and begins to get dressed.

It’s not that I’m a prude or anything; it just feels weird to openly ogle him now that we’ve officially met. Like, I should at least buy him dinner first before getting an eyeful of his junk, you know?

To distract myself, I let my gaze wander over the contents of his locker. It’s meticulously organized, with his gear arranged just so. Everything has its place, from his skates to his stick to his…is that a bobblehead?

I lean closer, squinting at the small figurine perched on the top shelf. Yep, that’s definitely a mini Gerard staring back at me with a goofy grin and wearing a tiny replica of his jersey.

Unable to resist, I reach out and give the bobblehead a flick. Its oversized head wobbles comically on its spring, and I snicker.

“Having fun?” Gerard’s amused voice makes me jump. I glance over to see him watching me, his lips quirking in a lopsided smile. Thankfully, he’s dressed now, though his shirt clings to his damp skin in a way that’s entirely too distracting.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly, snatching my hand back. “I’ve just never seen a bobblehead that actually looks like the person it’s supposed to be. Usually, they’re more…generic.”

“Oliver got that for me as a gag gift last year,” Gerard explains, leaning against the locker next to his. The scent of his body wash wafts over me, making my head swim pleasantly. “He said it captures my ‘essence.’ Whatever that means.”

I study the bobblehead again, taking in its bright blue eyes and megawatt smile. “I mean, he’s not wrong. It does kind of have your whole”—I gesture vaguely at his face—“thing going on.”

“Mything?” Gerard raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too amused.

“Yeah, you know.” I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat again. “The whole golden boy, all-American charm thing. Like you stepped out of an Abercrombie ad or something.”

Gerard throws his head back and laughs. “An Abercrombie ad? Really?”