Lance shrugs like he has no idea what Kason is talking about.
Kason snorts. “Shut the fuck up with that. She can’t stand you.”
“Kennedy is… complicated,” Lance answers casually.
“If by ‘complicated,’ you mean she hates your guts, then yeah, that sounds about right,” Heath cackles.
“And yet, he keeps going back for more punishment,” Dax joins in. “I saw you working her last night. Are you just hoping she’ll get tired of you trying and crack?”
Kason grins. “Tell us Lance: how many licksdoesit take to get to the center?—”
Lance tosses a dirty towel at him, but he dodges it.
“Lay off, guys.” I say, sitting on the bench and grabbing my bag. “That’s Coach Coleman’s daughter you’re talking about.”
I’m as curious as anyone—and happy to have the spotlight turned away from me, but the Scythes will cease to exist as an organization if Coach hears anyone talking about Kennedy like that.
“Y’all are ruthless.” The amused voice comes from the new kid. He swaggers into the locker room like he owns the place, and my jaw tightens.
I don’t really know him yet. Hardly at all, actually. But I don’t like him.
Part of it is that he subbed in for me the game I got tossed and scored, but mostly, I’ve seen this guy’s type before. He’s fresh out of university where he was the top dog, and now that he’s made it to a great team, he thinks he’s hot shit. Hot enough to skate his way to the front of the line. But it doesn’t work that way. And watching him strut aroundmylocker room, getting buddy-buddy withmyteam, I bet he thinks he’s going to run the playbook onmyice.
Yeah. I don’t fucking think so.
“Let me set the stage for you, Santos,” Heath starts in. “Here we all were, the whole damn team at Owen’s pad yesterday, eating food, drinking beer, having a good time. And in the middle of it all is Romeo and Juliet. Capulet vs. Montague.”
“What in the actual fuck are you talking about?” Kason interrupts.
“I was an English major in college before I dropped out to be?—”
“A shitty hockey player,” Dax interrupts. “We’ve heard it before. Go on.”
Heath continues, unfazed. “We’re all just doing our thing, but Lance and Coach’s daughter are on separate ends of the room. He’s got heart emojis in his eyes, and she looks like the dragon fromThe Hobbit. Yet, he says,there’s nothing going on.”
“What Shakespeare is trying to say here,” Dax summarizes, “is Lance has been denying forever that there is some kind of heated history between him and the coach’s daughter, but we know he’s full of shit.”
A wide grin crawls across the new kid’s face. “That sounds like a no trespassing zone, for sure, but I do understand the appeal of an off-limits challenge.”
Lance sighs and walks towards the door. “Y’all are something else. I’m going to go stretch.”
I feel for the guy and almost want to go after him. For one, I want out of here. These guys are annoying as fuck this morning. Especially the new kid. But I grab my skates to lace up. Maybe I’ll just get a head start on the ice.
“So this party y’all had.” New kid strips down to his boxer briefs to change into his gear. “Was this a team thing or…”
“Yeah it was for Callie, the PT. Have you met her?” Heath asks.
“Not yet.”
“She’s Owen’s girl,” Heath adds. I’m glad someone did. I was about to stake my claim and it wouldn’t have been quite so polite.
The kid just responds with a noncommittal, “Hm.”
Dax looks around with a wince. “We should have probably let you in on it.”
“Yeah, I mean if the whole team was there, it would have been nice to?—”
“It was invite only,” I cut in.