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I shoot them all a look and then start skating for the tunnel. “I fucking hate you guys.”

Jake calls after me, grinning. “Ohh, he’s whipped. ”

I don’t turn around.

And yeah, I definitely don’t hate the way it sounds.

***

The locker room smells like sweat, stale air, and whatever ungodly body spray Logan thinks counts as cologne. Gear’s everywhere. Pads, jerseys, half-peeled tape, and someone’s left their socks on top of the Gatorade cooler again.

After my grilling on the ice, the vibe is good. Cheerful. Laughter echoes off the walls, guys chirping over who missed what drill. Reid is sitting in full goalie Zen, looking like he hasn’t blinked once.

I should feel relaxed. But the second I clock Logan’s grin locked on me like a missile, I know peace is about to be stolen from my hands.

He stretches, arms behind his head like he’s easing into a long, luxurious rant. “So. Now that you and Zoe are, like, a thing , I think it’s time we talk about the real issue.”

I don’t take the bait. I don’t even look up from my phone. “There is no real issue.”

“There is a real issue,” Logan insists, waving a hand.

Jake, still peeling tape from his wrist with surgical focus, tilts his head. “What’s the issue, Pooks?”

Logan grins like he’s been waiting all his life for this moment. “Their power couple name.”

I stop scrolling and close my eyes.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, no, this is serious,” Eli says, toweling off and pointing at me like he’s just remembered his civic duty. “If this is real—”

“It is real.”

“—then you need branding,” he finishes, ignoring me completely. “Something iconic.”

“Strong social imprint,” Ryan adds, nodding like he’s on a panel at a marketing conference. “High value.”

Reid, with all the enthusiasm of a man who would rather be anywhere else, doesn’t even glance up. “If we’re talking high value, you knobs aren’t part of the conversation.

Logan waves him off. “Okay, so, we take Chase and Zoe—”

Jake doesn’t even let him finish, eyes lighting up in glee. “Chaz.”

I nearly drop my phone. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, it’s Chaz,” Eli says, nodding with fake authority. “Has just the right amount of douchiness.”

Logan slaps his knee. “Chaz is so bad. I love it.”

I look around the locker room, searching for someone, anyone to see reason. Someone who will object to this absolute war crime of a name. All I get in return are blank stares and shit-eating grins.

“No way. Zoe would literally light me on fire.”

Jake shrugs. “That’s why it’s funny.”

Reid, still focused on his stick, barely acknowledges me. “Condolences.”

Logan keeps going like he’s hosting a fucking wedding planning meeting. “Okay, okay. What about Zoase?”

Ryan chokes. “Sounds like a yeast infection.”

I groan and drop my head back against my locker. “I’m begging you, make it stop.”

Eli claps. “It’s Chaz. Final answer.”

“And now that we’ve decided that ,” Logan says, grinning like a game-show host, “what about Jake and Charlie?”

Jake, who was a moment earlier enjoying my misery, freezes mid-stretch.

“No.”

“Oh, hell yes ,” I say, my mood instantly lifting. “Let’s go!”

Jake glares at me. “Don’t.”

“Jarlie,” Logan announces with entirely too much joy.

Ryan gasps like someone just got murdered in a soap opera. “ Jarlie is horrific.”

“Jarlie is not happening,” Jake says, scowling at all of us.

Reid nods solemnly. “I think it’s happening.”

Jake mutters something under his breath that sounds like a threat and a prayer. Logan’s laughing so hard he has to wipe under his eyes.

“Chaz and Jarlie,” he wheezes. “The NHL is doomed. What an absolute fucking disaster.”

Eli, practically vibrating with energy now, spins toward Reid. “Alright, Hutchy, if you ever get a girlfriend, we’ll make you a name too.”

“I won’t,” Reid says, without missing a beat. “Problem solved. But what’s yours? You’re married now.”

There’s a beat of silence as Eli’s face shifts from smug to horrified in record time. “Married couples don’t need one.”

Logan tilts his head, like he’s doing big brain calculations. “Eli… Tamara…”

The whole room goes still, like a crowd at a penalty shot. I swear I can hear the gears turning. Then Jake, who has fully embraced the chaos at this point, lights the match.

“E.T.”

The exact moment the words leave his mouth and float into the air, Eli’s soul exits his body. I can tell because he makes a strangled sound of protest as every single one of us breaks into howls of laughter.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

I double over, Ryan’s wheezing, and Logan fully collapses off the bench, gasping for air. “Holy shit, that's unforgivable. I’m gonna pass out.”

Jake’s grinning so hard he looks deranged as Eli hurls his helmet into his locker. “Aww, does E.T. need a cuddle?”

“I will fucking end you!”

Reid doesn’t even flinch as he calmly takes the final blow. “You can’t. You’re too busy phoning home.”

Silence. Game over. Then chaos and cackling and alien reenactments. Eli storms off toward the showers in defeat, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

And suddenly, Chaz doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

Which is a problem, because once we roll into The Rink Rat and Zoe hears it, she’s going to murder me.

And the worst part?

I think I’d still grin as she does it.