Page 33 of A Little Too Forward

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always,” he replies, turning so that he’s lying down and copying my position. With both hands tucked under his head, he makes his eyebrows dance, encouraging my question.

“Why does the team have a swear jar in the locker room? Are you raising money for something?”

His smile doesn’t fall from his face, but the grin becomes more thoughtful.

“I’ll tell you, but the secret can’t leave this room. You can’t tell anyone.”

“It’s a secret!” I say louder than I intended. A rush of excitement rushes through me. “Tell me. Tell me! I promise it will stay between you and me.”

“The rumour that Coach Taylor doesn’t swear is true. He’s tough with us, but he will use any other word in the world before he swears. You’d have to get him raging mad to even get a ‘damn’ from him.”

“No. That can’t be true.”

“I swear on my first pair of hockey skates that it is.”

My mouth gapes open. I’m truly shocked. Coach Taylor has only worked in the professional league for three years now, and his reputation is stellar…but I have no idea how this secret hasn’t been spilled yet.

“Does he make a big deal about it? Like, does he threaten the team with laps or something so no one gossips? How is this not known to the media?” My voice gets progressively higher as I ask my questions.

“I don’t think anyone thinks it’s a big deal. It definitely takes a while to get used to, but after that, being called a horsebutt or a buffoon becomes normal.”

“And the swear jar?”

“That started out as a joke last season. To see who could not swear for the longest amount of time. Then it just became something fun to do, and yeah, the money gets donated.”

“Who won last year?”

“Fucking Mason. The good ol’ boy.”

I scoff. That does not surprise me. Mason Warren is a golden boy through and through.

“That’s wild. Do you know why he doesn’t swear? Is it, like, against his religion or something?”

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, it’s because his wife is a kindergarten teacher. Opposites attract and all that.”

“Whoa. I actually love that. If it’s true he doesn’t swear because she can’t…or tries not to.”

“You never know, she could do enough swearing for both of them.”

I howl out a laugh, tickled at the image of a dirty-talking kindergarten teacher. When my laughter dies down, a huge yawn overtakes me.

“Sorry, the day is catching up to me,” I say as I sit up and adjust myself so that I’m under the sheets. “I think I’m going to—what the fuck?” I sit upright in a flash.

Max sits up too, on guard and looking around the room.

“What? What is it?”

I kick my foot out again under the sheets and feel the same thing.

“Eww! Eww! Oh God!” I cry, jumping up from the bed and bouncing to the floor. “Why is there a wet spot on my bed? Why is there a wet spot!”

Max is beside me in an instant, flinging back the sheets. We both stare in horror at a large, clearly damp spot at the bottom of the bed.

“Please don’t tell me—”

“It’s not,” Max cuts me off, thankfully not letting me voice the absolute worst. Taking a step down the bedside, he angles his body over the spot. “It’s water.”

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