Page 19 of Slapshot
“Girls smell nice.” He shrugs one shoulder and then lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that is ripe, Vonne.”
He tosses it into his brother’s face and soon my jersey is making the rounds to each guy for a whiff.
“So, mine is the only one that doesn’t smell nice?” Since Alec left our jerseys were usually washed but we’ve definitely gone a day or two in between. And sometimes when one of the other freshmen were in charge, they smelled faintly of mildew because they forgot to move them from the washer to the dryer.
Right now, mine smells like it was at the bottom of a week’s worth of sweaty laundry.
Jonah cackles and the guys join in. “Oh man, you pissed off the equipment manager. Not smart.”
“Did you check your gear?” Patrick asks.
“No, why?” My skates are waiting for me along with the rest of my gear. It looks okay as far as I can tell.
“Girls are crazy.” He walks off with a wary look on his face. “Be careful, rookie.”
I wait for the guys to head out to the ice and walk over to Kaitlyn. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head and she’s got in her earbuds, probably to block us out.
I tap her on the shoulder and then step back to give her room.
She removes one ear bud.
“Hey!” Her tone is a warning. It’s entirely too sweet. And she’s smiling at me. Not in a good way—in a,I may have just sabotaged your gearway.
“I, uh, don’t think my jersey got washed with the rest of the team’s.” I hold it up.
“That’s odd.” She narrows her gaze. “Are you sure you put it in the basket with the rest of the team’s after last practice?”
“I’m sure.” Ninety percent. Maybe seventy-five. I think she’s fucking with me, but dammit her face gives nothing away.
“I have study group in fifteen, so it’ll have to wait until tonight.” Her smile stays intact.
“What am I supposed to wear for practice?”
“Everything else is in the laundry.” She bats her lashes innocently. Okay, definitely fucking with me. “Sorry, stinky.”
I’m sure this jersey has smelled worse, but I’ve never been more aware of it as I trudge out to the ice. The rest of my gear was intact. Or at least it seems that way so far. I swear the scent of lavender and soap hangs in the air, taunting me as we warm up.
The guys give me crap throughout practice. And a wide berth. The people that weren’t at the Biscuit the other night get filled in. Though the events seem to get twisted and escalated each time it’s retold.
Even Coach bites back a laugh at my expense when Patrick informs him that I hit on the equipment manager and she’s exacting her revenge.
“So, what’s the plan?” Tate asks when we’re finished, and I can finally take off the offensive jersey that’s made me the punchline of the day.
“Plan?”
“For getting back in Kaitlyn’s good graces?”
“I didn’t do anything. I was nice to the chick. I tried to make conversation and get to know her.”
“Well, you did something.” He pulls his jersey over his head and holds it up with a smile. “How does this thing still smell clean? I like her.” His expression goes serious. “Fix it. I don’t want her to accidentally mix up our jerseys or decide to take out her anger at you on the whole team.”
When everyone else is gone, I take my jersey to the equipment closet. Draping the fabric over the back of the chair, I scan the desk for pen and paper. I jot out a note asking her to pretty please wash my jersey. But then I have a better idea.
8
Kaitlyn
I don’t think I’ve smiled this much since I got to Burlington. But the memory of Lex’s face as he held up that horrid smelling jersey is enough to make me grin all afternoon. I’m even smiling as I return to the arena later that night. I need to do the laundry—maybe even his jersey—and repair a few things.
