Page 43 of Grudge Puck
“Pretty sure her friend dug Jack, too!”
(I took a quick peek over at Jack. His cheeks flushed and he hid his embarrassed smile.)
“You guys are like school girls,” I said with a shake of my head. “Anyway. I've got these.”
I grabbed the two boxes of cupcakes from Camille's bakery from my stall. I passed one box to my left, and one to my right.
“Camille made these. But be warned: they're vegan. If you turn into a hippie or something, don't blame me.”
“Vegan?” more than a few guys grumbled.
But I watched as the box went around the room, and the boys weren't scared off by the vegan desserts. Instead, almost every guy took a cupcake, took a cautious bite, and then ended up tossing the rest of the treat into their gaping mouths.
“Hey, damn, that's actually really good!”
“Right?” I asked, breaking into a huge smile.
“Wait, so your girlfriend made these?” JT Kiernan asked.
“She's not my girlfriend.”
“Beau just wishes she was,” Hunter, on my right, quipped.
I slugged Hunter's shoulder. “Whatever, man.”
“So did you grudge-fuck her or what?” Vinny, on my left, asked.
I gave him a shove. “I don't kiss and tell.”
The room went up with raucous laughter.
“Youdon't kiss and tell?” Jack Cameron asked. “Since fuckingwhen?”
The fact that it was the silent rookie Jack that called me out? The room laughed even harder.
A heat grew under my jersey, under my pads, spreading all over me. I knew I was turning bright red. I don't know why I was so bothered.
The truth was, ever since last night, I'd felt out of sorts. My anxiety attack hadn't quite ended. I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me, but I was starting to worry something mightactuallybe wrong with me. What if that pain in my heart wasn't just anxiety—what if I was about to have a real heart attack or something?
“Aw, look at Beau,” Vinny said, cutting in, clasping his hands under his chin and obnoxiously batting his eyelashes. “The ladies man finally has a real crush.”
Iggy cut in. “He just better hope he didn't fuck his chances up by jumping into the sheets with her first, right? Seems like every girl he sleeps with ends up hating his guts—”
I jumped up from the bench and started yelling.
“Would you guys keep your noses outta my fucking business for once? We're supposed to behockeyplayers in here! Not a bunch of goddamn drama queens!”
It's not often a dressing room full of professional athletes ever goes quiet. The only time that rarity happens is after a really embarrassing loss. The kind of loss in which there are no positive takeaways. No highlights, no goals scored, no good moments, nothing to be proud of—the entire team played like shit.
So the stunned silence that followed my outburst told me that I just looked like ahugejackass.
Everyone blinked at me. They looked like they werehopingthis was a joke. That I might strike a funny pose and say,ta-da! Got ya! Wouldn't it be weird and awkward if I actually had snapped like that, but for real?
But, of course, that didn't happen.
I stormed out of the dressing room, nearly blowing the doors off the hinges in the process.
***
