“What is?” I ask suspiciously.
Instead of answering, they guide me through a door marked “Staff Only” and into a dimly lit room filled with cleaning supplies and maintenance equipment. As the door closes behind us, I turn to face them, bewildered.
“Just checking—am I supposed to be getting kissed right now? Because every other closet detour I’ve experienced involved significantly more enthusiasm.”
“Put this on,” Brooks says, holding up a blindfold, completely unbothered by my jokes.
I stare at the strip of black fabric in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought we were done with all the weird hazing shit after the fountain. I'm really not in the mood—”
Brooks crosses his arms, fixing me with that intimidating stare he usually reserves for opponents. “You've got two options. Put on the blindfold willingly, or we make you wear it. Either way, you're coming with us.”
I look between the two of them. “Come on, guys. This is ridiculous. We need to practice. I need to make up for how horribly I played last night.”
“Sorry, dude,” Alex says. “This is what happens when you don’t plan your own birthday party. It means we have to do it for you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, taking the blindfold. “But if this ends with me naked in the fountain again, I swear to God—”
“Just put it on, Hendricks,” Brooks interrupts, a small smileplaying on his lips.
Reluctantly, I tie the fabric around my eyes, plunging myself into darkness. Someone adjusts it, tightening the knot, and a moment later I feel a soft sweep of air against my face. A hand waving, I assume, making sure I can’t cheat.
“Confirmed. He can't see,” Alex says.
Then someone's hands are on my shoulders, and I'm being guided forward, I assume out of the maintenance closet.
“Watch your step,” Alex warns as we start moving.
“This is ridiculous,” I grumble, but allow myself to be led through what feels like several doorways and down multiple corridors. When the cold air hits me, I realize we've walked straight back out of the rink. “Is this going to take long? I have plans tonight that I really can't miss.”
“Plans with who?”
“With—” I stop myself, not wanting to immediately out Laura as the girl I'm dating. I promised her I'd keep this a secret, and I can't let it slip day one. “—my dad,” I answer instead.
“Ah, don't worry. He'll understand.”
When they shove me into the backseat of my car, I lose my patience. “Guys, I left my phone in my bag. I need my phone.”
Namely, I need to be able to call Laura and let her know I might be a little late.
“Relax, Scotty. You’ll enjoy this. I promise,” Brooks says as though being kidnapped in broad daylight is on my bucket list.
I slump back in defeat, already over it. I wanted today to be normal. No surprises. No team theatrics, and definitely no one finding out it’s my birthday.
“Sorry about this,” Alex mutters.
“About wh—” The words get stuck in my throat, along with the sock Alex shoved in my mouth.
Fuck. I hope it’s a sock and not someone’s ancient jockstrap.
“Almost there, birthday boy,” I hear Brooks say from somewhere to my left.
I’ve been through my fair share of team pranks before—a glitter-bombed skate bag, a shrink-wrapped car, sticky skate blades—but this one? Yeah, this one is the most annoying by a landslide.
I don’t want team bonding today.
I don’t want to be dragged somewhere with a blindfold on.
I want Laura, her voice in my ear, her hand in mine.
