Page 63 of The Girlfriend Zone

PRANK ME ONCE

Miles

A little later, I’m lacing up next to Rowan, debating what to list first on the DickNose board—the whiteboard hanging in the corner of the locker room. Technically, it’s for last-minute strategy sessions before games, but usually, it’s just a canvas for our finest immature artwork, and we are absolutely skilled at drawing faces with dicks for noses.

I take a quick glance around, gauging the room; everyone’s in a good mood, so this is the perfect time.

“For the rookies, I’m thinking…new drills for the season?” I suggest, keeping it casual, though I’m itching to see what we can get away with this year when it comes to pranking the rookies—who are working with the assistant coaches right now so they aren’t in here. I remember the pranks my first team played on me—cutting my laces at the bottom, filling my skates with ice overnight. Did I like being the butt of a joke? Hell yes. I felt like I’d arrived, but those pranks are child’s play compared to what we’ve devised here at the Sea Dogs the last few years. It’s a tradition, and we’ve got to keep it up—we invent the most ludicrous drills for the noobs.

And…this falls under leadership skills. At least, in my book it does—keeping up morale among the guys. The team that pranks together wins together.

Rowan’s dark eyes glint with interest. “One-legged figure eights again? That was some of our best work, Prof,” he says, using the nickname the guys gave me a while ago—The Professor. I don’t mind that they think I give off a teacherly vibe.

I laugh as I tighten my laces. “Watching them try to skate full speed on one leg was gold. I swear, even you cracked a smile.”

Rowan growls, not breaking his usual stoic expression. “Don’t get used to it.”

Across the room, Max, tugging on his chest protector, chimes in, “Once a season. That’s all you get from Rowan for a smile.”

With a knowing laugh, Asher pulls on his practice jersey at his stall. “Truer words. Rowan’s got grumpyandmean covered.”

Rowan snarls, making Asher’s point.

I clap Rowan on the shoulder. “And you wear the title well,” I say, then lower my voice. “Though I know you’ve got a heart of gold.”

He growls. “Do not.”

“Liar,” I say.

“Fine. I do with Mia,” he says, seeming to fight a stupid grin as he turns to the pic of his kid leaping in frontof some graffiti art that he keeps in his stall. He taps the photo, his good luck charm.

“As it should be,” I say.

Ford’s here too, taping up his stick. He’s a forward on the second line and as sarcastic as they come. “Stick-tape sabotage was my favorite back in the day.”

“I don’t know if anyone goes back that far,” Rowan chirps.

“Slippery tape on their sticks. I love it,” I say, then nod to Ford. “I trust you’re doing that right now?”

An evil smile comes from the vet. “I guess the rookies will find out.”

My brother is next to me, keeping quiet for now as he laces up. I get it. It can be hard to be the new guy. I was in his position not too long ago. I turn to him, hunting for an easy way to bring him into the convo. I could do it with the kid angle, since he and Rowan are both dads. But I’ve got a better idea—one that’s broader, more team-centric. “Speaking of pranks, if memory serves, we pulled some fast ones back in junior hockey. Remember those?”

Tyler smirks. “We could do one-skate sprints.”

Rowan stretches out an arm toward my brother, offering a fist for knocking. “Sweet,” Rowan says as Tyler knocks back. “Let’s do that. Make them take one skate off and sprint across the ice.”

“Good plan,” I say, feeling very captain-like indeed. Team bonding, here we come.

“We’re definitely going to need pics,” Max insists while pulling on his leg pads. “Or it didn’t happen.”

“We could ask Mini Mac One to get some shots,” Rowan says, helpfully suggesting what I’m already thinking. “Or one of the media team.”

Before anyone else even gets the chance, I raise myhand quickly, claiming the responsibility. “I’ll take care of that assignment.”

“Captain Suck-Up,” Asher mutters from his stall, smirking. He knows a little about my one-time fling with Leighton—mostly that I’ve got monster feelings for her—but he’s not letting on in front of anyone, of course.

I roll my eyes. “All right, let’s get these drills listed on the DickNose board so the rooks think they’re legit,” I say, looking around for the whiteboard marker. Max spots it on the floor and lobs it my way. I catch it and crouch in front of the board, scribbling the drills. As I’m finishing, Coach strides in, freezing mid-step as he spots the board and me.

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