Page 35 of Gross Misconduct

The guys race out the locker room door, our clothes bundled in their arms. We surge after them like runners angling for the finish line. My heart is pumping, and I find myself laughing like a little kid. The cold air hits my half-naked body, my junk sloshing from side to side under my towel. I won’t let a little chill stop me from saving my team’s clothes. My teammates follow behind me, my band of toweled brethren.

Griffin tosses someone’s boxer shorts onto the ice as he runs around the rink. We weave through the benches and concession stand. Someone’s shirt goes across the cash register. A pair of pants are tossed over the popcorn machine.

I hurdle over the benches and around the rink, gaining on them. As close as I get, Griffin manages to elude my grasp. These Comebacks fuckers are faster than I expected for a bunch of old guys.

Griffin turns around and runs backward. He throws a pair of boxer shorts that aren’t mine in my face, making me stumble.

Fuentes yanks them from my nose and puts them on. “Thanks, man.”

My body repulses.

“Give us our clothes back!” Miller yells. “It was Jack’s idea with the toilet paper!”

“Traitors!” I yell back to him.

The Comebacks bolt through the rink’s double doors into the lobby. One of them with a mane of blond hair and supposedly sweet smile chucks a bundle of sweaters into the skate rental station.

“I know I shouldn’t apologize, but I’m sorry about this! Please don’t catch a cold!” he yells as kindly as possible as he follows his teammates out the door.

I zoom to catch up with him, finding that the lack of clothes makes me go faster.

“They’re heading for the front door,” Fuentes yells, desperate. He snaps the waistband of his boxers. “Shit, I don’t think these are mine!”

A fresh round of cold air hits my body as I burst through the double doors. The cold can’t stop me. Nothing can knock me down. Just as I’m about to grab Hank’s shirt to hold him, my damn towel gets caught on the door hinge, pulling me back. I try to rip the towel to break free, but it’s surprisingly strong.

“Fuck.”

“Ha! Maybe next time, loser! This is what you get for fucking with mature adults,” Hank yells back at me as he runs outside.

I pull my towel loose and zoom out the front door. This time, the cold air of outside hits my bones and sinks into the strands of my wet hair. I run through the parking lot and find them hopping into the bed of Griffin’s pickup, driven by a teammate with a dark, growly beard, who looks worried like he’s committing a crime.

I run right up to the truck, but it pulls away before I can get a good grip. The cold metal slides through my fingers as they drive through the parking lot.

Griffin stands up in the bed and throws the final armful of clothes onto the pavement. He crosses his arms, triumphant. Even though he took all our clothes, I can’t help but notice how fucking good he looks. Chest puffed out, impish glint in his eye.

Damn him for still being fuckable.

I shrug my shoulders and give him a nod. Touché.

I flip him the bird to let him know I don’t approve of it, but I do respect it.

Griffin nods back. Our eyes lock for a moment, unable to pull away from each other.

“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself.

I let my towel drop.

I catch Griffin staring down at my crotch before he meets my eye again and gives me a smirk of approval.

You could have had all of this, Griffin.So enjoy the view because you’ll never see it again.

12

GRIFFIN

Ihaven’t heard anything from Jack since the prank. We don’t have each other’s numbers, and I don’t see him around the rink. I know better than to go there during their practice. I’m public enemy number one among the Blades. And rightfully so.

A part of me wishes he’d found my number and texted. Even something about how he’s going to kick my ass. I go back to the bar, but I don’t see him either.

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