Page 41 of Snap Shot

“Your poor parents.” He shook his head. “What's wrong with the showers here, eh?”

“Um, nothing. They're fine.”

Coach narrowed his eyes. “They not clean?”

“They're clean.”

“Then what is it?” His hands pressed into his hips. “'Fess up.”

I sighed. “The...um, other girls. The skaters. They say stuff to me.”

“Think you're hot shit, playing for the boys' team, huh, Frida Kahlo?” Some girl bounced her pretty, manicured brows at me in threat.

Mom refused to let me tweeze mine yet. If I wanted, I could have fought back and done some damage, but most days I couldn't gather enough courage to reply.

“I saw you watching Bryce Bennett. Stay away from him, fatty. He's my boyfriend.”

Coach Alexei sighed back and sat next to me. “Alright, kiddo. Lemme tell ya. People will say lotsa things aboutcha—on and off the ice—but ya have to keep a thick skin, ya know? No one can make ya believe what ya know isn't true.”

My gaze lingered on the stale gray carpet; head hung. “What if it is true?”

“I'll tell ya what.” He clicked his tongue. “Once the boys clear out, you can go in. I'll have Donna clean the corner stall.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

The stench ripened. A horde of my teammates with their gear bags and dainty, giggling girlfriends strolled by.

A few minutes passed before I plodded over to the lockers. My stick poked through the door, like a battle-ready sword. Silence meant it was empty. Still, I took tentative steps toward the showers.

The last stall smelled like lemon cleaning solution. Donna had done good. I turned to drop off the heavy pads and layers onto one of the benches nearby.

“Hey. What are you doing in here?” Landon tossed the freshly washed hair swooped across his forehead with a flick of his neck. “This is the boys' locker room.”

“I know,” I whispered meekly, hugging my belly to cover the drenched shirt sticking to me. “Coach said I could.”

“Why can't you use the girls' showers?” Those blue eyes of his grew with concern.

My heart pitter-pattered.

The damp ends of my sweaty ponytail brushed the back of my neck as I lowered my head toward the glossy cement floor. “They hate me there.”

“Want me to stand watch? Make sure no one else comes in?”

“Thanks.” I pulled at the hem of my tee, detaching it from my skin to hide my flab. “Don't look, okay?”

“I won’t.”

With my back to Landon, I glance over my shoulder one last time. His back faces me, too, but when I slide off my skirt, I swear his eyes are on me.

Chapter 13: Back Up, Radek

Landon

I lied. I had white wine.

Call me selfish, horny, whatever,but since I got a glimpse of the main event at her desk, I want more. I stop pouring, then run water into the sink to uncork and dump four of these five-hundred-dollar bottles of Chardonnay down the drain—like some sort of maniac—before grabbing a Cabernet.

Indi frowns at the color of wine I hand over.

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