Coach shakes his head and mutters something that sounds like “Fucking kids,” but the corner of his mouth twitches as he stalks out of the room.
The rest of the coaching staff follows, as does Carter, leaving the rest of us to shower and change.
I strip off my jersey on autopilot, Piper occupying my thoughts just like she has every other spare minute of this trip. I missed her so damn bad during the semi-final game in Atlanta, and it sucks that she can’t be here for the championship game either.
Money’s tight, I get that, but I figured with all the extra cam sessions she’s been doing, she might have the spare cash.
Hell, I would’ve happily paid for the trip from my savings just to have her by my side, but her damn pride wouldn’t let her accept. The woman is independent as fuck, and it’s both a blessing and curse.
This week definitely goes in the curse column.
I’ve barely seen her since Christmas and even though it’s only been two weeks, it feels like an eternity.
The only upside is that after I hang up my cleats tomorrow, my schedule will be wide open.
I toss my jersey on the bench and I’m working on my pads when Parker rolls up with a shit-eating grin. “We need to talk.”
“About?” I wiggle out of my pads and drop them on the bench, noticing for the first time that all of my roommates are staring at me.
Parker holds up a small sheet of paper, but I can’t get a good look at it because his hands are covering the entire thing.
“Hey, Brady!” he reads, doing his best imitation of a female voice. “We really miss you at pole class.”
Oh, fuck.
I dive for my bag. The side zipper is open, and I close my eyes, cursing my carelessness.
“Please come back and give us another chance,” Parker trills. “Your Fireman spin was getting so good!”
Coop and Reid burst out laughing and flames erupt on my bare chest, spreading up my neck like wildfire.
“It’s rude to read other people’s mail, asshole.”
“How could I resist?” Parker holds the postcard up for the others to see. On the front is a picture of Mai dangling from the pole in some fancy move I couldn’t master if I had all the time in the world. “It was just lying on the floor and I wanted to return it to its rightful owner.”
“How thoughtful.”
I should’ve thrown the damn thing in the trash, but I was in a hurry, so I shoved it in my bag.
There’s a mistake I won’t be repeating.
“I need to know more about this pole class,” Reid says, peeking over Parker’s shoulder to get a better look at the image on the postcard. “Do they train you for exotic dancing or what?”
“Forget the class.” Coop smirks. “I want to know if our boy wore booty shorts while he was twirling on the pole.” He pauses, giving me a mock serious look. “Is twirling the correct term?”
“As a matter of fact, it’s not.” I snatch the postcard from Parker and drop it in my bag, careful to secure the zipper properly this time. “And no, I didn’t wear booty shorts, fuck you very much.”
“Spoilsport. I would’ve paid good money to see you in a pair of gold lamé hot pants.” Coop’s eyes go round and he reaches into his locker and withdraws a swatch of metallic gold fabric. “Oh, wait. I did.”
He throws the bundle at me and I catch it. Against my better judgment, I hold it up to reveal a pair of—you guessed it—booty shorts.
To his credit, they’re a men’s style.
Parker nearly falls over laughing and I flip him off.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks to try them on,” Coop offers.
“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.” I hold the shorts out. “If you’re so curious, try them on yourself, princess.”
