Page 5 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“No one on this team has shit they don’t wash for the season, do they?” Jace asks. A chorus of nos rings through the room. “Thank God. Worst locker-neighbor ever didn’t wash his undershorts unless we lost. Hisundershorts. We made a run at the cup that year. Longest ten months of my life.”

“Eli Manning made his center change pants at halftime cause he was such a sweaty bastard. True story,” Niko says.

“How the hell do you know that?” Gauthier asks.

Niko lifts a casual shoulder. “Saw it on TV. And those guys are even more strapped into their gear than we are with all that tape on their feet. It was a whole production just to get him some dry pants.”

“You’re telling us this, why?” Jace asks.

“Your locker neighbor may not have been good at laundry, but at least you didn’t have to put your hands on his sweaty ass.”

That sends a ripple of laughter through the room, though Luca doesn’t even crack a smile. He just methodically stuffs his gear in his locker, then grabs his wallet and keys. Sensing I’ve got about ten seconds to time my exit to match his, I tug a shirt over my head and step into my slides—getting dressed is easy when I don’t wear anything fancy—then grab my own keys and fall into step behind him as I rack my brain for an opening.

I’m not a good liar–I’m an even worse actor–but I get the sense that asking Luca what’s wrong will go over just as well now as it did on theice. In other words, I need an excuse, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hey, remember when I first got drafted how you offered to help me find a place to buy?” He never used those terms exactly, it was more like he thought it was ludicrous that I’d get an apartment instead of a house, but I’m banking on him not remembering the exact details of that conversation.

He casts me a curious look over his shoulder but doesn’t stop walking. “You finally ready to get out of your apartment?”

“Maybe. I feel like I should explore my options, you know.” That’s partially true. While I’m not unhappy in my place, now that I’m done with my rookie year, it’s safe to say I’ll be in Denver long enough to put down some roots.

“God yes, I don’t know how you live in such cramped conditions.”There’s the Luca I know.

Since he’s never been to my place, I’m pretty sure he’s operating on the assumption all apartments are small. Maybe if I hadn’t lived in one for over a decade, I’d feel the same.

“Itisjust me.” I catch up to him and match his stride so we’re walking side-by-side.

“Just youisallowed to spread out a little bit.”

“I know, that’s why I’m thinking of a bigger place. Not like yours, though. I don’t need fifty rooms for every occasion.”

“It’s more like twenty, and having a room for my different hobbies and interests gives me the freedom to do what I want,whenI want. I don’t have to go to a gym to work out, or a theater to watch a movie. I can just live in the moment in my own space.”

“It didn’t seem like you were living in the moment at practice.” I hold my breath, waiting to see if that offends him as much now as it did then.

He stops walkingand turns to me with a frown that’s both irritated and impressed. “You sneaky bastard. Fine, I might’ve been distracted. How the hell did you notice? No one else did.”

I feel my face heat though I don’t let it stop me from answering. “You held the puck on your stick longer than normal.”

“And you know that because…?”

Now my face really gets hot. “You learn by watching film, right? And you entered the league when I was thirteen, so that’s a lot of film…” I trail off.

Luca’s gaze rakes over me, not in a sexual way or anything—more like he’s putting together the pieces of a puzzle. “So, the chemistry we have on the ice is because you’re trying to play like me?”

“Doesn’t every forward want to play like you?” My eyes drop to the ground, so I won’t know if he thinks that’s creepy or weird.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure guys are gonna start modeling their game off you since you’ve been playing so well,” he says.

This isn’t the first time Luca’s complimented my game, but somehow it means the most. The implication that people might dream of being me the way I dreamed of being him… That’s incredibly high praise. So high, I don’t even know how to accept it. “Why were you distracted?” I blurt.

Luca takes a deep breath and holds it, almost like he was hoping I’d forget to finish that part of the conversation, then he lets it out with a slight shake of his head. “I was thinking about Noah, and what his absence will do to our season. I can’t remember the last time I played when the starting goalie was injured. It makes me jittery just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, having Noah out sucks, but it also makes the rest of the team sharper so we’re even more efficient when he comes back.”

Luca cocks his head to the side. “How doyou mean?”

“Well, for starters the defense has to get better about anticipating the play so they can keep pressure off Gauthier, and Niko was already good at that so just imagine where he’ll be in a few weeks. And the offense has to tighten up our passing, so we aren’t turning the puck over, and the fewer turnovers means fewer chances for the opposing team to score.”

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