Get your mind out of the gutter,she scolded herself. It was hard to think of anything else.
She was back in the room she shared with Heather Plaker, who had been thankfully still asleep when she’d returned home. Plaker had left earlier to practice or get breakfast, but Charlie was still in bed, mulling over everything that had happened the prior night. It was a lot—not just physically, but emotionally too. She didn’t expect tofeelso many things.
It was dangerous, because Charlie knew that one night would not be enough.
It had to be, though, because she really could not afford to be distracted any more.
Charlie stood up and shook herself, jogging around the small room as she tried to regulate her emotions. She looked toward the set of dirty clothes from last night she had left in the corner next to her suitcase. When she’d gotten home, the last thing she’d wanted to do was look at the outfit that caused her all that trouble.She’d changed into her pyjamas with a speed she usually reserved for changing after games to go home immediately. Perhaps it was a good thing that Charlie had not spoken much to her roommate this morning, because if the situations were reversed and she found her roommate’s clothes taking up space like that, she would’ve totally judged them.
It was simple enough to fold her leather jacket and black T-shirt into the laundry side of her suitcase, but Charlie paused when she folded her pants, feeling something in the right pocket.
She reached inside and found a folded-up piece of paper. She didn’t remember pocketing anything.
It was a note from Olive—her name and phone number on her hotel’s stationery. Her handwriting was soft and neat, just like how she appeared on the outside. It was a thought that left Charlie remembering that while she was soft in all the ways that she expected, she had an assertive side to her…
Charlie, stop. You cannot be thinking this much about sex,Charlie chided herself.
Well, it wasn’t only the sex that had her in a tizzy. It was everything else that came with it.
Charlie took a picture of the note and saved the number to her phone before she could stop herself. She ripped up the note in the bathroom and went to shower—trying to think only about work and practice. She would think about this later, after business hours. For now, the best sport on Earth was waiting for her to go play it. And she had to do that justice; she had to.
Charlie followed Coach’s instructions as she skated down the ice, practicing drills. It helped that she was on a team with some of the players she didn’t get to see often, as they were on the American PWHL teams, and it was actually fun brainstorming plays that they could use during their games. Charlie was so ready to expose Blake’s weakness at right passes in front of the world.
The practice did its job of letting Charlie forget about last night, and she was feeling much more lighthearted when shestepped off the ice. Charlie looked out towards the stands, where she could see Blake watching from the spectator’s stands with a mug in their hands.
Charlie went to the locker room and came back out in her Team Canada athleisure, and ran up to sit next to them on the seats. After they regaled her with their woes, which Charlie expertly advised them on, Charlie knew it was her turn to fess up to what was bothering her. They had called Charlie out on it, as they had noticed her unusual jitters.
“Well,” Charlie started, looking back out towards the ice, where the Zamboni was clearing it for Blake’s upcoming practice, “I went out last night.”
Blake slapped her arm playfully. “You rebel! What did you do?”
“Nothing much… just had the best one-night stand of my life.” Charlie sighed as she watched the Zamboni move in circles.
“That doesn’t explain the moping. Shouldn’t you be celebrating? Look at you, getting some! I’m so proud. My little bestie all grown up,” Blake pretended to wipe fake tears.
“How do you do it? I don’t think I’m the one-and-done type of person.”
“Did they say it was one and done?”
“No, she said we can repeat it anytime.”
Blake cheered obnoxiously, and then quieted down as nearby spectators turned in confusion. “Sorry, just love that Zamboni!” they yelled out and then turned to Charlie in a quieter voice. “Ohhh,she.Tell me more, what’s she like?”
Charlie blushed as she thought of a way to describe Olive.
“Oh, it’s likethat. Nice.” Blake held out a hand for her to high-five. Charlie swatted the hand away.
“You’re a menace,” Charlie said, meaning every word of it.
“That is so rude. I am merely celebrating your obvious orgasmic late-night activities. You don’t have many of those,” they commented.
Charlie nodded. “You’re right, I don’t.” She almost thought oftelling Blake about the squirting, but decided that would probably not be appropriate given the venue. Maybe if they managed to get her drunk later that evening.
“Well, do you have a way to contact her?” Blake prodded.
“Yes, her number.”
Blake put down their mug on the ground, then turned back to Charlie. Charlie had assumed it would be for a comforting hug, but they shook her instead.
