Page 1 of What If I Knew You

CHAPTER ONE

BODHI

“Roses are red, pickles are green. I like your legs, and what’s in between!”

Ledger Dayne leads the team in a fit of laughter as I step onto the ice for our last preseason practice wearing a pair of light blue pajama pants with bright green pickles of assorted sizes all over them. The peculiar gift from Griffin Ollenberg was waiting for me when I walked in this morning along with a note explaining that it’s a team tradition to wear goofy pajama pants for our last preseason practice and that since he forgot to tell me earlier, he took the liberty of buying me a pair.

I had a feeling it was all a joke.

Somehow I knew I would be the only one on the ice today with these Godforsaken pickle pants on, but a tiny part of me wondered if Griffin was being honest with me since he seems to wear pants like this a lot around the arena. It’s what he’s known for, really. He has this fascination with pajama pants that I don’t understand but hey…the fans get a kick out of it so more power to him, I guess.

I could’ve been my regular asshole self about this whole thing.

I could’ve refused to wear these ridiculous pants.

But I know if I want the respect of my teammates, I have to earn it, so, pickle pants it is.

“Hey, Kid.” Harrison gestures with the tip of his chin. “That a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

More laughter from the guys.

Har, har, har.

“Guess I fell for that one, huh?” I chuckle skating over to the guys who clearly all got here early so they could stand here and wait for me to show up. I survived much of preseason practice without too much stress in the form of hazing from the guys, but definitely was on the receiving end of a few harmless pranks. They turned off the hot water to the showers during my first week and while I was in said cold shower, someone switched out my underwear in my locker for a pair of granny panties. Last week, before one of our practices, I went to grab some stick tape out of my bag only to find it gone. Lo and behold, the only stick tape that just happened to be lying around everywhere was pink sparkly tape with unicorns and rainbows all over it.

Yeah. That was a colorful practice.

I suppose it could be worse.

They could be giving me swirlies in the locker room toilets.

I may not have gotten the warmest reception from the team but they haven’t been cold either. What’s a little fun among teammates anyway? Stopping in front of the guys I gesture to my new pants with a smirk.

“You guys want to stare at my pickle all day or are we going to get to work?”

August gives my pickles a once over and then meets Griffin’s amused glance. With a shrug of his shoulder, he asks, “Depends, Roche. You got a perky pickle worth looking at?”

Griffin twists his mouth and shakes his head trying not to laugh. “Nah. He’s young. He’s got to pump his pickle first to make it perky.”

August laughs. “Dude did you just say this kid pumps his pickle?”

“What?” I scowl. “I’m not a?—"

“He’s a pickle pumper?” Ledger asks.

“Hell yeah!” Griffin says with a smile. “All the way to Perky Pickle Palace.”

“What the hell is Perky Pick?—"

“Alright, alright,” Coach Hicks rallies with a slight chuckle. “You guys can tickle each other’s pickles on someone else’s time. We’ve got plays to run. Let’s go.”

“Pickle Pumper,” August murmurs, shaking his head with quiet laughter before he skates off to the other side of the rink.

Fantastic.

There’s no way that won’t become a nickname.

Bodhi Roche the Pickle Pumper.

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