Page 24 of Icing on the Cake

“Hey, all I’m doing is helping a fellow student.”

“Seriously, Matt, I’d give you a high-five right now if you weren’t, you know, taking a dump.”

Matt’s laughter bounces off the bathroom tiles. “Tell you what, next time I see you around campus, I’ll hit you up for that high-five. Sound good?”

“You got yourself a deal, dude.” A smile forms on my face. “Thanks again for the advice.”

“No problem, Gerard. Good luck with the post. And the game tonight. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Appreciate it. Catch you later, Matt.” With a final wave he can’t see, I exit the bathroom significantly more at ease than when I’d entered.

The walkback to the Hockey House is spent brainstorming photo caption ideas. By the time I’m climbing the front steps, I’ve got a pretty good one in mind.

I find the living room empty, which is a relief. The last thing I need right now is to be bombarded with questions from my teammates about why I’m suddenly the most talked-about guy on campus. I’m sure they’ve all seen the blog post by now.

Flying up the stairs, I head to my room and close the door behind me. I store my hockey stick in my closet with the rest of my gear, glad that that mystery has been solved. Now comes the hard part: taking a picture of my butt.

I position myself in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my closet door. It takes a few attempts of twisting this way and that, but eventually, I snap a few shots that showcase my butt in all its rounded perfection.

I stare at the best photo of the batch, my thumb hovering overthe “post” button. Am I really about to post a picture of my butt on the internet for the whole world to see?

Before I can second-guess myself, I type out the perfect caption:

Heard y’all were talking about my booty. Well, here it is in all its glory! Shout-out to the Ice Queen for appreciating what the good Lord gave me. #HockeyButtsMatter #BlessedByTheHockeyGods #IveGotBackAndImNotAfraidToShowIt

I read over the words, a grin spreading across my face. It’s cheeky (pun intended), playful, and entirely on-brand for me. I hit the “post” button and watch as the photo and caption pop up on my feed.

Setting my phone aside, I turn back to the mirror, pull my shorts and boxers down to my ankles, and analyze my backside critically. I’ve never taken the time to study it before. Sure, I’ve caught glimpses of it while getting dressed and innocently felt it up when taking a shower, but I’ve never paid any further attention to it.

It’s big, there’s no denying that. Each cheek is round and firm, sticking out proudly. I give one a tentative squeeze, amazed at how it fills my palm. The flesh is supple yet muscular beneath my fingers.

I can see why the Ice Queen and everyone else on campus are obsessed with it. It’s a darn fine butt. Perky, plump, and practically begging to be squeezed, smacked, and worshipped.

As I continue to ogle my butt in the mirror like a narcissistic weirdo, a chuckle from the doorway startles me. I whirl around to find Oliver leaning against the now-opened door with an amused smirk.

He’s shirtless, wearing low-slung sweatpants, and has a frilly white apron tied around his waist. The “Kiss the Cook” emblazoned on the front is smudged with what appears to be flour. “Admiring themerchandise?”

Heat floods my cheeks for the millionth time today as I scramble to yank my shorts back up. I nearly trip over my own feet in the process. “Ollie! I, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

Oliver saunters into the room and crosses his arms over his chest. The frilly apron makes him look ridiculous, but somehow, he makes it work. “Clearly. You were too busy checking out your ass.”

I rub the back of my neck, the skin growing hot with embarrassment. “I was…trying to see what all the fuss is about, you know? With the Ice Queen’s blog post and everything.”

“Ah, yes. The infamous blog post. I’ve seen it. So has the team.”

I groan and flop face-first onto my bed, burying my face in a pillow. “Fan-freaking-tastic. I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

The mattress dips as Oliver takes a seat beside me. He pats my back sympathetically. “At least they’ll be talking about your ass and not your dick for a change.”

I lift my head to shoot him a half-hearted glare. “Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Captain.”

He chuckles. “Anytime, G. But seriously, try not to let it get to you too much. Yes, the guys will give you shit, but they’ll move on to the next thing soon enough.”

I sigh and roll onto my side, facing away from Oliver. Staring at the wall, I wonder how my day has reached this point. “I know. It’s just…weird, you know? Having everyone drooling over my butt all of a sudden.”

“Can you blame them? It’s a nice butt.” Oliver gives said butt a playful swat, making me yelp in surprise.

“Dude!” I rub the offended cheek. “Hands off the merchandise.”

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