Page 58 of The Bro-code

Oh. “Sure, what about them?”

Topher rolls his eyes, while Cole’s look is nothing but quizzical.

“Dude, you ok?” he whispers.

I nod sheepishly. “Peachy.” I answer, because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever admit to anyone that one kiss has me daydreaming like a love struck teen girl.

“We were saying,” Cole takes mercy on me and brings me up to speed with what I missed. “That our good luck rituals are very important. We stuck to each one last year and we won the championship.”

Cole has a point.

“So we were just checking to make sure that everything is under control, because we’re the defending champions and a few of us are graduating this year, so we want to go down in the records as two time Frozen Four winners.” Topher adds, always eager to fight Cole for control of the meeting.

Cole glares at our frat president and checks off our good luck rituals one by one. “I have my lucky stick all ready to go, Tucker has his lucky underwear in his locker,” he says with a twist of his nose.

“Yeah,” Corey chuckles. “I’m sure by now the entire school can smell Tucker’s vintage sweaty balls.”

I’m about to laugh but Tucker flips Corey off in defense of his lucky charm. “Fuck off, dude. We all know my lucky underwear has to remain unwashed to bring us luck.”

Ryker raises his hand, as if this was a class. “Unwashed?”

“You bet your ass on that,” Tucker slaps him on the back. “Two years ago I made my debut on Cove Knight’s ice when our starting goalie Cash injured himself during a game. I had been too busy to do my laundry because of midterms and that day I turned up at the hockey arena in an old pair of underwear with a weak waistband. That shit kept falling off when I walked and by the time we started getting ready, I was considering going commando rather than suffering through those sliding boxers. Even if I didn’t think I’d see any ice time, I couldn’t warm up and do my stretches if I had to pull up my underwear every five seconds. Luckily the week before, I had forgotten my favorite boxer briefs in my locker. They hadn’t been washed but I thought, fuck it. Unwashed boxers beat sliding boxers.”

Ryker looks unimpressed. “Ok, so?”

Tucker’s ear splitting grin is funny. “So I put on the unwashed pair and I got lucky. First off, I got to play?—”

“Your starter goalie getting injured doesn’t sound like luck to me.” Ryker objects.

“Wait for it,” Tucker continues. “We were playing Bridgeport U. Their team was unbeatable that year, they went on to win our conference and lost to Yale in the final. Do you know which team was the only one to get a W against Bridgeport that year?”

From bored, Ryker’s expression turns interested. “Our team?”

Tucker punches his own palm. “Bingo. My debut was the stuff of motherfucking legend. Total shutout. And fuck knows Bridgeport tried hard.”

Cole agrees. “It was like our goal was untouchable. And when they did shoot? Tucker was an impenetrable wall.”

“Sure,” Ryker argues. “But how do you know that it was because your underwear was unwashed? It might have been that pair that was lucky regardless.”

Topher intervenes. “We tested that theory. Tucker washed the underwear the week after and we lost. So we tried it out and we had to conclude that those boxer briefs were lucky as long as they weren’t washed.”

“Last season,” Tucker beams proudly. “I didn’t wash them at all and lo and behold, we had a record smashing season. I of course haven’t washed my lucky boxers at all, so they’re ready and charged with all of last year’s good juju.”

Ryker’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s the foul smell that wafts out of your locker every time you open it?”

Tucker smiles as if Ryker had paid him a compliment. “That’s the aroma of one full year of good luck, my friend. One of our tried and true weapons.”

“More like a fucking biological weapon,” Ryker sounds disgusted. “I’d be worried about my balls falling off if they touched that level of unwashed fabric.”

This is when finally Tucker takes offense. “It’s a small price to pay to stay undefeated.”

“I’m starting to think that’s why I was given the locker next to yours, huh?” Ryker sighs.

Topher’s gloating smile speaks volumes about how he feels about Ryker’s arrival.

He can use his father’s influence to force Coach’s hand into lifting his suspension, but not even God could give him the starting spot when we have Ryker Moore on our roster.

“Anyway,” Cole addresses me again. “Tucker is ready, Bay has agreed to make her good luck chili after every home game. It’s gonna be even easier now that she lives here.”

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