Asher shoved me, but I barely moved. Not to brag, but I was six feet six inches and jacked for the Gods, baby.
Okay, I’m bragging.
All I could say was, good luck meeting my big ass on the ice.
“Did you just try to push me, you little bitch?” I picked the redheaded menace up by the waist and hoisted him over my shoulder.
“Put me down, you big Neanderthal!”
“Rookies! Who wants to give the captain a spanking!”
Asher started kicking his feet, but his laugh echoed off the walls surrounding us. “If anyone touches me, I swear to God—”
My body spun, skates nearly breaking on the rubber mats covering the floor, as I swung Asher around like a rag doll. He screamed like a little girl, and my laughter made me keel over. We fell to the ground together, the two of us cracking up.
He landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. “I think you snapped something,” I gasped out.
Asher rolled off me while saying, “Serves you right, Big Boy. I’m not one of those little junior girls you chase around like a horned-up perv.”
“Fuck that. They chase me.”
Asher rolled his eyes, a typical move for him, as he got up. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Big Boy.”
He extended an arm, helping me off the floor, and I wrapped my arm around him while the two of us made our way to our lockers.
Something about having my arm around Asher just feels right.
We’d dressed side by side since we were just a couple of sixteen-year-old rookies. I tore off my jersey and started peeling the pads off my sweat-soaked body. Asher was getting undressed next to me, and I noticed several bruises on his arms. It kind of looked like someone was grabbing him, or something.
“Fuck,” I said. “Someone got you good out there. They did that through their gloves?”
Asher looked puzzled before I motioned to the bruises on his arm.
He blinked and said, “Oh. Yeah. I forget who did that. That whole fucking practice is a blur. He worked us hard tonight.”
“Yeah, but don’t you fucking bail on Rowan’s party. I’ll grab the booze and come to your place right after, okay?”
Asher nodded. “Cody’s driving us.”
I knew Cody wouldn’t be drinking; he hated alcohol, but he liked hanging out with us. It was cool of him to cart our drunk asses all over New Rochelle.
I took a whiff under my right armpit and nearly fucking gagged. “Damn, I smell like rotted ass.” I grabbed Asher by the back of his head and pulled him into my pit. “Don’t I? Doesn’t my pit smell like rotted ass? Doesn’t it?”
Asher started jabbing my side. “Let me go! You smell like a dead buffalo!” I released him, and he reeled back, gagging like he had almost suffocated. “Jesus Christ! That stank is fuckingdeadly!”
He wasn’t wrong. I used deodorant, but it didn’t matter. My musk was lethal; get too close and it might singe your eyebrows right off. “I’m gonna shower,” I said through a chuckle. “Coming?”
Asher shook his head. “Nah, I’ll shower at home—wanna freshen up for the party.”
“I know that’s right! Get fresh for the honeys, buddy. Get that red clown wig on your head nice and primped so you can get that D wet.”
He raised a brow and laughed while I hung up my shit and snagged a towel. “Alright. I’ll see you and Cody in a bit.”
I made my way to the shower, leaving Asher at his locker. “Alright! Hazing time, you rookies. Who’s sucking my dick first?”
Briar yelled from the office, “Moretti, if you don’t settle down, I swear to God, I’ll convince Hughes to bench you for the first official game.”
God, Assistant Coach Briar was such a bitch.
