Page 11

JACK

There’s a reporter from the Messenger who wants permission to come in and do post-game interviews, Coach Greene announces. Did you want time to cool down first?

Some guys groan. Nobody wants to talk about what went wrong tonight.

Ethan scowls. Why the fuck is he even asking? Last year he just walked in.

Wait. Grant Schmidt, one of our alternate captains, holds up a hand. Is this the guy that wrote about last week’s game? That was the worst piece of shit I’ve ever read.

He pulls out his phone. It was like he’d never even seen a game before.

He started out with a history of the fucking arena.

Like, who gives a shit? Schmidty shakes his head in disgust. He barely described the plays leading up to each goal.

Also, get this, he called one goal a score , for fuck’s sake.

And he said the game was divided into quarters, instead of three periods.

It’s straight-up disrespectful to find someone who knows fuck-all about hockey and give them the most important reporting assignment in the whole college.

Schmidty yanks off his chest protector and crosses his arms over his massive chest. Yeah, send that idiot in. I want a few words with him.

Some of the guys laugh nastily. This is going to be a show.

Coach Greene smirks and nods. Okay, boys. Get ready.

I pull off my hockey pants and put on my slides. No reporter is going to want to talk to me. Losses get handled by the leadership group of the team, and I’m just a newbie. Besides, I played better than last week, when I was still sweating alcohol out of my pores.

I’m towelling off my neck when I hear a weird noise, like the yip of a dog that’s had its tail stepped on.

The whole room goes eerily quiet.

Schmidty’s voice is an octave higher than normal. You’re Andy Robson?

Oh, shit . I turn quickly and see her standing in the middle of a room full of naked and semi-naked guys. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes dart around the room. I step towards her instantly.

Hold up guys. I put an arm around Andy and guide her back out. I yell over my shoulder, Ten minutes for everyone to get decent.

Once we’re back in the hallway, she ducks out from under my arm. I feel the absence of her warm body immediately.

She smiles up at me. Hey, Jack. It must be my year to see naked hockey players.

I chuckle. Yeah, what’s your count up to now?

Well, I guess I can’t count you again, she motions towards my crotch and I realize that all I’m wearing is long underwear, a jock, and sandals.

Oh, shit. I try to cover myself, then give up. Besides, Andy’s already seen a lot more.

I like your…codpiece? she says.

My cheeks flush. It’s called an athletic protector.

Interesting. Do they come in different sizes? She raises her notebook like she’s ready to learn all about jock straps.

I shake my head. I don’t know why I bothered stepping in. I should be protecting my teammates from you.

Andy is once again her feisty self. She looks cute tonight, all bundled up in her white coat and purple scarf.

Her dark hair is pinned up and her cheeks are flushed from the heat down here.

Once again, I focus on those full, curving lips.

When she bites her lower lip, I swallow hard.

Thank god for the cover of athletic protectors.

Meanwhile, she’s oblivious to the heat I’m feeling. I’ll admit, I was a little surprised to be ushered into that sausage party. I specifically asked your coach whether it would be okay for me to enter the room.

I don’t know Coach Greene that well—but it was an asshole move.

Of course, more than few guys have been complaining about the first game story.

Maybe it was his way of getting back at Andy?

But none of this is making sense. So, how come you’re the hockey reporter? I thought you hated sports. And jocks.

She sighs. Not just the hockey reporter. I’m the sports editor. And what I know about sports can fit into… Her eyes drop. An athletic protector.

That doesn’t seem like the best way to run a newspaper, but what do I know? However, there’s a glimmer of opportunity here.

Hey, do you need to learn about hockey? I ask hopefully.

Her shoulders slump, and I long to wrap my arm around her again. She nods. It’s so difficult. I’ve been doing a crash course in hockey for the past ten days, but I still have tons to learn.

This is my second chance with Andy. I can help you. Hockey is the one thing I’m an expert in. And maybe sharks , but I don’t offer that up.

But it’s not like you can go to games with me, she says.

No, but I can help you in every other way, I insist.

When she hesitates, I add, Don’t forget, I do owe you a big favour.

Andy peers up at me from beneath those long lashes, and my breath catches. Did you think the exhibition game story was bad? she asks timidly.

Uh, I didn’t read it, I stammer. I didn’t even know there was a college newspaper until I heard the guys complaining.

It got a record number of comments, she says with a huge sigh. 126 comments, actually. Every one of them negative.

I let out a whistle. Yikes. Don’t they say not to read the comments?

Bryce made me, he’s the editor-in-chief. It was supposed to be a learning experience. What I learned was that sports fans can’t even spell four-letter words.

I remember the name Bryce from Andy’s journal. He’s the guy who broke up with her so callously. And now she has to work for him? Brutal.

Andy takes a deep breath and straightens. That’s why I’m here. Getting actual quotes from players will improve my story. So, does the rest of the team not read the game stories either?

Umm… I stall. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I’m not the greatest liar.

Her hopeful expression fades and her eyes narrow. The truth, Sinclair.

They hated it.

She blows out a huge sigh. Damn. Hockey is a lot more complicated than I thought. Maybe I’ll have to get someone else to cover the games after all.

That’s a good idea. I nod emphatically.

She pulls out her phone. It’s too late for that tonight, I have to file my game story before midnight. Do you think I can go back in there now?

I hesitate, wondering if the guys will give her a hard time. But it’s tougher to be an asshole when you’re face to face with someone. Sure, we’ve given them enough time to get dressed.

Andy turns towards the dressing room and I can’t help but notice that her back view is almost as good as the front. And this is my opportunity to spend more time with her.

Hey, if you want, I could look over your story before you post it, I offer.

She swivels back around. Really? That would be great. But it’s asking a lot from you. It’s already pretty late, and I still have to finish writing it.

I grin down at her. Hey, I owe you, remember? Besides, I’m pretty amped after a game. We usually go for something to eat and then unwind. You could come along, I say.

Andy frowns. Wait, you’re not asking me out again, are you?

I shake my head. Hell, no. My ego still hasn’t recovered from when you listed the million reasons you’d never go out with me.

Technically, that statement is true, because I’m not asking her out right now .

But I’d still like to go out with her. I’ve been following Mats’s advice and slowly meeting different women, but Andy’s still my number one.

Yes, she’s cute, but it’s her spirit and honesty that really shine through.

And her rocking body doesn’t hurt. Besides, it would be great to get to know each other better.

She’s got this idea of me that’s just not true.

She crinkles her nose, and looks even cuter. Okay, but I won’t be able to write in a noisy pub. Isn’t that where you guys usually go?

I gently push back. Gosh, I don’t think the library is still open. Besides, can’t reporters write anywhere? Do war reporters ask the troops to stop shelling so they can concentrate?

Point taken. Andy’s smile is genuine now. This hockey thing must really be worrying her. Thank you for doing this, Jack. It’s very nice of you.

There are a lot of things I’d do for that smile.

I enter the dressing room first and announce, Hey guys, this is Andy. She saved my ass a couple of weeks ago, so be nice.

Saved your naked ass, you mean, Bergy yells.

Wait, is this the chick you’ve been crushing on? Swanny peers at Andy, as I try to calculate if there’s any chance she didn’t hear him. I throw him the bird behind her back. My teammates are so supportive.

She’s already marching across the room to talk to our captain, Big Z. Of course, since women flock to him. Sure, he’s smart, good-looking, smooth, and the best player on the team—but otherwise, what’s his appeal?

But Andy gets right down to business, with a notepad and her phone on record. Because she doesn’t flirt with jocks.

I take off for the showers. With Andy there, I get fully dressed before I return. The room is almost empty now. Andy is sitting on a bench alone and typing away on her laptop.

I slide in beside her. Hey. Ready to go?

She startles. Sorry. I get focused when I’m writing.

It’s all good. You’re in the zone. Just like hockey players during a game.

Ah, interesting. I’ve never thought of it that way.

We both stand. Andy packs away her laptop and slings her bag over her shoulder. She falls into step beside me as we make our way towards the pub.

Andy sighs. I’m still having trouble understanding how to work the player quotes into my story. Also, you guys know there’s not anything more than a hundred percent effort, right?

I chuckle. Hockey player clichés. We have a million of them: giving 110%, outworking the opposition, playing the full sixty minutes, not getting the bounces…

Andy’s eyes widen. Wait. Those are exactly the phrases I heard tonight. Does that mean I can’t use any of these quotes?

I shrug. Not seriously.

She huffs, Damn. Why do you all say the same things?

I consider this. I dunno. Guess we’re copying what NHL players say.