Page 19 of A Gold Medal in Love

As the play is called good—that’s two assists for me, thanks for keeping track—we skate to the bench for a changeover, laughing the whole way. Yeah, we were already winning before that goal, but each one tastes like the first bite of decadent chocolate cake.

Squirting Gatorade into my mouth as I rest between plays, Imani flashes back into my mind. Good Goddamn, I’d love to havehersquirting into my mouth as a reward for winning this game. I don’t need to hear the negativity about it only being Sweden. A win is a fucking win, yeah?

Coach calls my name, and I look over to see her grinning at me.

Well, even if I’m in the doghouse with Imani, my team still loves me. I’m earning the fuck out of this captaincy.

I stomp my feet while I watch my teammates play Sweden like fiddles, grinning all the while, but I allow my mind to wander again.

Could I even pursue something with Imani? I have no problem with flings, and the way she seemed into me last night, I don’t think she has a problem with them either.

But that’s the thing. The deal was that I’d help her win the media and therefore the audience over, not that I’d fuck her into next week. If we go into something, we have to have a no-shit conversation. She needs to know what I’m about. I mean, I guess I could have a vanilla rendezvous… sounds terrible. Kink and sex are not necessarily married to each other, so it’s not like they have to go hand-in-hand. I’m just at a point in my journey that if I fuck, I like it to be kinked up.

Either way, there need to be some serious boundaries.

The Swedes pull their goalie with two minutes remaining as I hop back on the ice, ready to fucking go. Ah, we love to see a fruitless Hail Mary. I can’t wait to destroy their dreams.

When my team and I roll into the locker room, Team Canada is already there prepping for their game against France.

“That’s on lesbians, baby!” I yell to Charlie by greeting, who rolls her eyes as she tapes her stick.

Saint echoes, as well as the other sapphics on the team, high on our win. Some of Team Canada join in good-naturedly, as most of our combined players, of course, play together in the league.

In succession, I throw my gloves, helmet, shoulder pads, and elbow pads beneath the bench next to my gear bag, breathing a big sigh of relief at getting out of the suffocating uniform. Next to go is my upper base layer, leaving me in only a sports bra on my upper body, and the full uniform on my lower. Still in my breezers, jill, shin pads, socks, bottom base layer, and skates, I noisily fall onto the wood and reach into my bag.

Charlie eyes me, knowing what is to come, and simply waits for the drama while I pull out a can of Bellwoods beer I snuck into Italy.

“To Team USA!” I crow, smashing the bottom of the can against my skate to cut it open. Quickly, I bring the cut can up to my mouth, pop the top, and start shotgunning.

Saint sees my actions and immediately starts a chant for me.

With the cries of “Chug, chug, chug” in the background, I stand as I finish the beer, crush it against my forehead, and raise my arms in victory.

I whoop and try to grab Charlie around the neck for a hug, but she dodges me expertly.

“Come on, Charlie,” I sing-song, but she just flicks an eyebrow, nonplussed.

“I don’t know how Saint hasn’t had enough of your antics at home, but this is just par for the course. You were obviously in some sort of zone, and I need to get in mine. Some of us still have games to play,” she deadpans.

“You’re gonna be unstoppable as always, Charlie,” I say with all seriousness.

She sighs. “Thanks, Blake.” Her eyes run over me and then look as deep into my eyes as she can manage before her eye contact aversion kicks in. “What the shit are you on, anyway?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I bluster.

“That game. You weren’t even there,” Charlie points out.

“Look at this locker room. You think it’s a locker room of a d-man who wasn’t focused?” I grin.

Her mouth quirks. “I can read you like a book. What happened with the figure skater?”

I laugh loudly to cover up what should not be my surprise. I’m talking to the other half of my heart. Why did I think I’d be able to get out of this conversation? I lower my voice. “I may have trapped her in a bathroom and almost kissed her.”

“What do you mean? That’s vague as shit, and I know you’re doing it on purpose. Give me the story,” she pushes.

“After we texted, I asked her to meet me. She did. We were having a couple, I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, she had left her drink on the counter and gone to the bathroom too,” I explain.

Charlie holds up a hand. “To follow you in there?”