Page 18 of Pucking One Night Stand

Vasko is unlacing his skates slower than molasses.

Thumper grins. “You need any help with those laces?”

Vasko stands. The grin drops. “What’d you say?”

“I said,” Thumper stands too, stepping forward, “You going to be able to get those skates off all by yourself.”

Vasko gets in his face and they're chest to chest. Thumper’s still grinning like an imbecile, which annoys Vasko even more, so he shoves him.

Danny’s about to intervene, but Coach is already between them, his arms out. “Okay, girls, save the drama for the goddamn ice.”

He shoves them apart like he’s done it a hundred times. He growls, “Good scrimmage session.” Then glances at us like we better not make him regret saying that.

“Now get showered, and freshen up. You’ll all be pleased to learn that you’ve got a hot date with the media team.” He checks his watch. “In one hour, to go over plans for new player-driven content, behind-the-scenes stuff, fan polls, and a series idea called ‘Roomies on the Road.’ So, stay engaged, and let’s see what they’ve got lined up.”

Jesus. You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The showers are loud—water slamming the tiles, laughter, a few insults shouted over the roar. By the time we’re back out, everyone’s half-dressed or dragging on clothes, still yelling at each other.

In front of the mirror, I’m combing my hair. Neatly. It’s a routine. Doesn’t matter if it’s post-game or post-battle, the hair stays tight.

Brody shows up behind me and shoves a hand through it like he’s a drunk stylist.

“Asshole.” I twist, ready to swing, but he’s already laughing, backing up like he’s innocent.

“Wait—wait.” Thumper’s frozen mid-step, his eyes huge. “Oh, fuck. Blake.”

“What now?”

Thumper points. “Bend your head down.”

“No.”

“Bend. Your. Head.”

I lower it, annoyed. “WHAT?”

Thumper parts my hair on the crown with the care of someone inspecting roadkill. “You’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?”

Thumper elbows Bishy in the ribs. “You’re going bald.”

The whole room stops for half a second.

“No, I’m not.”

They’re already walking out, Bishy laughing so hard he nearly trips over Thumper’s gym bag.

I spin back to the mirror, craning my neck like a lunatic. Can’t get the angle. Try again. Fail. Then I lock eyes with my reflection and stare at my hairline like it just betrayed me.

Brody steps up beside me, laughing. “You’re not really. They’re just dicks.” He slaps the back of my head.

I shove him, hard. We start roughhousing, but it’s half-assed. I’m still thinking about my hair.

“Meet you there.” He tosses on a hoodie. “Gotta sort something out first.”

I walk the long hallway alone. It’s quiet now, just the distant buzz of the AC and my skates thudding in the bag over my shoulder.