From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 5

TYLER

“You call that a beard?”Rake asks one of our rookie players.

The young guy self-consciously scratches his sparse whiskers. “Yeah, why?”

I know exactly where Rake’s going with this. Unfortunately, the new guy does not.

Like Rake, we all got hazed when we were new to the team. Nothing big, just fun stuff. Still, it takes some getting used to.

Rake shrugs before delivering his zinger. “It’s just that I saw a lady at the grocery store this morning whose beard was more manly than yours.”

Everyone laughs, even the new guy. The joke is old and cheesy as hell but hey, it’s what we do.

The kid—we call them ‘kids,’ even though this one’s probably only a few years younger than I am—wanders over to the locker room mirror and examines his sprouting facial hair.

“Hey, man,” I call after him, “ignore Rake. You know, he wrote a book called I’m a Dick and I Know It.”

The rookie does not look comforted.

It’s a team tradition, to grow our beards out during the season. Actually, a lot of teams do this, although most wait until the playoffs, thus the ‘playoff beard’. The Aftershocks, on the other hand, start at the beginning of the season. We shave when we do make it to the playoffs.

Yeah, it’s a silly superstition but it’s something to bond over.

And it obviously gives us the chance to bust the chops of the new guys, some of whom have never had a beard in their lives.

“You gotta ease up on the rookies, Rake,” Jonas says, unlacing his skates. We’re just off of some intense practice drills.

“Holy shit, do your feet stink, Jo. Did something up and die inside your skates? Can you shake them out to make sure they’re not filled with rotting flesh or something?” I ask, inching away.

“Sure,” he says, faking me out by looking into a skate while lobbing one of his rank socks in my direction.

I dodge it, and it lands on the floor, where I’m sure it will stay until the unfortunate equipment team does its pass through the locker room, cleaning up and taking our stinky, sweaty practice clothes to the laundry.

A job I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Hockey players are notoriously smelly, thanks to the intensity of the sport and the heavy gear we wear. When I was playing as a kid, my dad made me strip to my skivvies in the garage after practice, and on more than one occasion, sent me back upstairs for a second shower, reminding me it’s okay for goats to smell like goats, but not boys.

“Hey Ty, you have that interview yet with Petal’s friend? What was her name? Lucy?” Jonas asks.

“Yeah, it’s Lucy. And no, I’m heading to that as soon as I am cleaned up.”

A big smile grows across Rake’s face.

“What? Did Petal tell you something?” I ask.

I’m still not used to Rake being married, nor the fact that he and his new wife have a ‘no secrets’ policy, where they tell each other everything. I guess that’s how a normal partnership works, but it weirds me out to realize nothing I tell him anymore will stay just between the two of us.

That sort of arrangement is just not for me. I don’t think it ever will be. I like my own life, and don’t see much upside to sharing it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t date and, you know, other things. But that’s the extent of it.

Rake slaps me on the back. “Ty, Petal and her friends are not the typical women we meet in hockey-land. I don’t think your usual charm is going to do you any favors with this one, as evidenced by how Lucy shot you down in front of everyone when you invited her to dinner.”

I wave him off. “Think what you want. My charm is legendary. If I feel like it, I can have this woman eating out of the palm of my hand, I don’t care how much she doesn’t like me.”

Just stating facts, no matter how douche-y that sounds.

Jonas is dressed and ready to go, probably in a rush to get to his kids. But before he does, he takes a seat on the bench in front of our lockers. “Hey, weren’t we going to wager a bet on this very thing? You know, what we discussed the other night? Ty’s dating practices, or rather, should I say, his inability to date a woman for any length of time?”

Jesus, that again. If they want to bet against me, they can bring it on.

I don’t date women for very long, it’s true. But it’s not because I can’t. It’s because I choose not to.

Two different things.

“I’m game,” I say, shrugging. “Just prepare to lose.”

Jonas grins. “Sure buddy. I say you can’t date any woman for ninety days. And that you have to go after this Lucy woman.”

“Why her? It sounds like I’m already starting at a disadvantage if she’s one of those athlete-hating women like Rake’s wife.”

Rake snorts. “She doesn’t hate athletes anymore, I can promise you that,” he says, puffing out his chest.

“And how do I know that Rake won’t blab to Petal that we’ve made a bet on her friend Lucy? Wouldn’t that screw the whole thing up?” I ask.

Rake raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. I promise I will not breathe a word of this to Petal. I say go forth and conquer Lucy, the journalist who probably won’t even give you the time of day once she gets her interview.”

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

“Fine. I’m down with that. Just you guys wait.”

Rake rubs his hands together. “Alrighty then, Ty’s in. I say we double down.”

“How so?” I ask.

“If… and this is a big if… you do somehow get her to date you for ninety days, you have to break up with her when the ninety days are up.”

“That’s just stupid,” I say.

Rake looks at Jonas, and I can see I’m going to be on the losing end of this discussion.

“Now why would you stipulate something like that?” I ask.

Rake shrugs dramatically. “Let’s just say, you could use some humbling, my brother.”

“What?”

“You’re going to learn about relationships, my friend. The good and the bad, the ups and the downs, the thrill of new beginnings and the agony of saying goodbye. We want you to see it”s not just about the chase, but also about dealing with the emotional mess afterward. It will be good for you.”

And these guys are my friends?

“So, either way I lose, is what you’re saying. If I don’t date the woman ninety days, I lose the bet. If I do date her ninety days, I have to break it off, and while I will have won the bet, I’ll be the world’s biggest dick. What the hell, man?”

”Exactly, buddy. Think of it as a crash course in manhood.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

“This is more of a crash course in being set up by your friends,” I scoff.

“Maybe he shouldn’t do it, man,” Jonas says, looking at Rake. “I think he’s afraid of our little challenge. Like… what if he catches feelings? Like we might all find out he’s a softie underneath his swinging dick bravado.”

“What swinging dick bravado? Do you guys know me at all?”

Rake tilts his head. “We know you, Ty. The question is, do you know yourself?”

I sigh, ignoring his question. “What are we betting?”

We look at each other, each trying to come up with something good. Money is boring—we already have shit tons of it—and we made Jonas wear the team mascot’s costume last year when he lost a bet over something I don’t even remember anymore.

“I’ve got it,” Rake says, snapping his fingers.

It’s gonna be stupid, I know it.

“The loser, or losers, given we’re two against one here, even though I’m pretty sure I know who the loser will be”—he raises an eyebrow at me—“has to take a lesson from one of the figure skaters training in the rink, then skate in front of the fans in a skating dress.”

That’s hard core.

But I like it.

“I’m in,” I say. “Rake, you will be adorable in a pink skater dress and Jonas in baby blue. Can’t wait,” I say, rubbing my palms together and trying not to think of the fucked-up thing I just signed up for.

Regardless, this will be a slam dunk, and these jerks are going to be sorry they ever doubted my dating expertise. Just because I don’t date women for long doesn’t mean I can’t, for fuck’s sake.

Rake holds up his hand so Jonas doesn’t leave just yet. “That’s not all. If, for some miraculous reason you do manage to date her for ninety days, no going and falling in love because, you know you’ll have to break things off.”

Fall in love? Like that would ever happen to me.