Page 5 of They All Puck Me

"You get used to it." I catch her eye, a spark passing between us. "You want to see the locker room?"

"Lead the way captain," she says, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

I guide her down another hallway, pointing out the trainer’s room and the video review area on the way. She asks questions, jotting notes quickly but attentively.

We reach the locker room door. I hesitate for a second—unusual for me—then push it open. "Here it is," I announce.

She steps inside, glancing around at the benches and lockers, each one personalized with player names and gear.

"So this is where all the magic happens," she muses.

"And some cursing," I add with a smirk. "Lots of cursing."

"I can imagine," she says with a laugh that’s surprisingly contagious.

We leave the locker room, just as quickly as we entered. Something about the thought of her potentially seeing my teammates walk butt ass naked out of the showers doesn't sit well with me.

We continue to walk down the corridor, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the walls. Most of the employees and fans have already left, leaving a calm stillness in the air. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to do something I never do—open up.

"You know," I begin, glancing at Olivia, "we have this pre-game ritual."

Her eyes light up with curiosity. "Oooh? What kind of ritual?"

I chuckle. "Well, it’s kind of stupid, but every game day, we all have to touch the same spot on the locker room doorframe as we walk out."

"Why that spot?" she asks, genuinely intrigued.

"It started years ago," I say, scratching my stubble. "Back when we were in a losing streak. One of the guys—Noah, actually—touched it for luck before a game, and we won. Ever since then, it’s been our thing."

"Superstitious much?" she teases.

"Hey, don’t knock it," I say with a grin. "Hockey players are a superstitious bunch. We’ll take any edge we can get."

She laughs softly. "So what happens if someone forgets?"

I grimace. "Let’s just say it doesn’t go over well."

We continue walking, and I find myself relaxing more than usual. There’s something about her—maybe it’s her easygoing nature or those inquisitive eyes—that makes it easy to talk.

"Do you have any other rituals?" she asks.

I hesitate for a moment. "Well... I always put my left skate on first."

"Really? Why’s that?"

"No idea," I admit with a shrug. "It’s just something I’ve always done since I was a kid."

She nods thoughtfully, scribbling notes in her notebook. "Fascinating how these little habits can become so important."

"It’s all mental," I say. "Gives us something to hold onto when things get tough on the ice."

"I get that," she says quietly. "Everyone needs something to ground them."

For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence between us as we head down another hallway.

We reach the ice rink, the cool air brushing against my face. The surface is pristine, reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror. I glance at Olivia, noticing her hesitation.

"You ever been on the ice before?" I ask.

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