Page 20 of Fake Skating

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I swallowed and rubbed the back of my neck as the door shut behind her.

What the hell had just happened?

I’d been getting dressed when I remembered I left my chain in the shower. I went back, put it on, and when I returned to my locker, there she was, holy shit .

Facing the wall, but I’d have recognized those blond curls anywhere.

And when she turned around, her tears took me straight back to the night when I dried her tears and kissed her.

I almost couldn’t breathe as she blinked up at me, and then I was hugging her while fucking “sweat” played on the Bluetooth speaker in my locker like some kind of joke.

Sweat, get into it

Let me show you how to use your legs

I still wasn’t sure how it’d happened when I was committed to keeping my distance, but in an instant I was punched by the flowery smell of her hair, buzzed on the warmth of her body in my arms, fucking hypnotized by the slide of her hands on my skin, dear God .

What the fuck even was that? I’d gone from zero to under-her-influence in three seconds.

Although in my defense, it had to do with the colonel. Dani’s dad was a controlling dickhead, a controlling dickhead she’d always been insanely devoted to even though he didn’t deserve it, and I’d always had a soft spot for her daddy issues.

Because while she’d do anything to please him, that man wouldn’t lift a finger to throw her the tiniest of crumbs.

So color me unsurprised that he was still making her cry.

But how the hell was I going to fix this? Coach looked like he wanted to kill me, and I couldn’t blame him.

I mean, talk about your shit timing.

This would have been bad enough if Oz were alone, but he was with two coaches from Wisconsin and with Gordy Frye, a local sports reporter who was super connected.

Like, the dude knew everyone in hockey.

“I know that probably looked weird,” I said, working hard for a casual smile like this wasn’t a big deal, but the bottom line was that this was huge.

I was supposed to be fixing my reputation, but now these dudes were thinking they’d just witnessed me fucking around with a girl in the locker room—the night before a game—like my head wasn’t in it.

And just after the picture of me with the bong.

Dammit, Dani.

Fuck, even thinking her name made me feel unsteady.

Coach said, “If you guys want to step into my office, the stat sheets we were talking about are on my desk. I just need to yell at my player really quickly and then I’ll bring him in and we can all have a nice conversation.”

They gave big laughs like this was all fun and games, but I could tell by the way they were looking at me that they thought I was screwing up again.

As soon as they went into his office, coach went off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Barczewski? All you had to do was keep your nose clean—that’s it.

What has it been, like, a day ? These guys are here to watch you, and it was a perfect opportunity to prove you’re not what you seem, but you screw it up by bringing a girl into the locker room,” he said, his yelling kind of a spitting growl because he was trying to keep the volume down.

He was totally in my face as he raged, “As if that isn’t bad enough, you’re not even dressed.

Like, what the fuck? And who the hell even is she?

I’ve never seen that girl in my life. Please tell me you didn’t bring a Simley girl into our locker room or someone from another school. ”

“God, no,” I said, a little pissed that he didn’t know me better than this. Like why the fuck did everyone always assume the worst? “She’s new here and wants to be a team manager. She was trying—”

“Was she or was she not in the locker room while you were changing?”

“It’s not like that—she’s Mick Boche’s granddaughter!” I said—yelled, actually. “She just moved here, and I’ve known her since we were kids.”

“She’s Boche’s granddaughter?” he said, his eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” I said, glad that little nugget had slowed him down. “She and her mom moved in with him last weekend.”

“No shit?” he said, squinting like he couldn’t keep up. “Does she play hockey?”

“No,” I said, hoping he’d stay distracted by her pedigree. Maybe if I talked about her he’d forget what he thought he just walked into. “She’s a brainiac goody-goody who’s going to Harvard next year. Like the opposite of Mick.”

He crossed his arms. “You said you grew up with her?”

“Our moms are friends,” I explained, “so I’ve known her forever. We were childhood buddies until she moved away.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Gordy popped out of the office wearing a huge grin, the Wisconsin coaches behind him. “I couldn’t help eavesdropping, and did you just say that the girl you were with in the locker room—your childhood sweetheart—is Mick Boche’s granddaughter ?”

“Childhood sweetheart” wasn’t exactly right, but it was interesting the way everyone’s faces changed. Suddenly they didn’t look like they were accusing me of being a screwup; they looked like they were interested in the story of me and Boche’s granddaughter.

Whatever it takes.

I wasn’t about to lie, but I wasn’t about to skip away from a bailout, either. I gave my best version of a secretive smile when I said, “Yes, Dani is a direct descendant of Mr. Boche.”

“No way,” Gordy said with a grin. “If you’d told me he had a granddaughter, I’d have thought she’d be a girl who fights, spits, and curses like a sailor. You’re telling me that blonde with the glasses comes from Mick?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, leaning into it. “Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, and would rather read a book than watch a game. The apple fell far on this one.”

“That’s hilarious,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“Gentlemen…” Coach said.

Gordy pointed to the office. “I know, I know—back to the office so you can finish your lecture.”

“I’ll be right in, thanks,” Coach said, but his smile disappeared as soon as the door closed.

“Coach, I swear to God—”

“Shut up and listen to me, Zeus,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m about to go in my office and make sure those guys understand that you’re tight with Boche’s granddaughter. That doesn’t make this okay, for God’s sake, but at least it’s her .”

Her.

“Maybe the fact that you’re seeing a Boche will distract them from not only the picture that people are still whispering about, but also what we walked in on, since the two of you’ll be like goddamn hockey royalty, I don’t know,” he said, glancing toward the office.

“But I like what you said about her. You dating someone more into books than parties is exactly what you need right about now.”

Dating?

Oh, shit, he thinks I’m seeing her…?

I tried deflecting with, “I was telling the truth about what you walked in on, though.”

“And I believe you,” he said, and I hoped he meant it.

“But Gordy talks to everybody , and if the committee is already wondering about you, we don’t want the news he brings them to be that instead of watching game film, you were making out with a girl in the locker room.

Isn’t it better if he goes back with the news that you’re dating a serious girl who just happens to be a direct descendant of Mick Fucking Boche? ”

His eyes bored into me, willing me to understand the importance of what he was saying. But I didn’t want to believe it. Refused to believe. And yet, deep down, I knew that as fast and wild as the gossip had spread about that stupid picture, this was going to be much, much worse.

Shit. He’s right.

I didn’t have a choice.