Randy has the exact opposite issue. Once it becomes clear he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s fair game. It’s like watching turkey vultures fight over a carcass on the highway. They’ll peck each other’s eyes out to get to him.
By the morning of day three, I still haven’t heard from Sunny. Between coaching sessions and games with the kids, I check her social media accounts, but there’s nothing new apart from a picture posted on the first day—not by her or Lily, but by Patchy Bushman. The four of them have their arms wrapped around each other, standing in front of the camping trailer-van, being all happy together. I get it better now more than ever why she reacted the way she did to those bunny pics. Bushman has his arm around Sunny. I want to rip it off and beat him with it, but I also know that things aren’t always the way they look. Unfortunately, I’m also aware that sometimes they’re exactly how they look.
The longer I don’t hear from her, the more pissy I get. I know they’re all friends, but this doesn’t seem much different than the shit she gets upset at me over.
I combat the happy, smiley picture with multiple pics of me and Sunny from our weekend at her place. Even though I’m annoyed, I message her every day with little updates. The reception up here isn’t the greatest unless I’m in the mess hall or by the water where there aren’t as many trees obstructing the signal. This means I have to type most of my messages. I won’t use the voice-to-text thing in front of other people. Some of what I have to text is private.
I’d get Randy to check the spelling, but I don’t want him to razz me about it. I’d vet them through my PA like I sometimes do, but she’s still out in the middle of the wilderness, so it’s not an option.
By the end of the fifth day, I’m bagged. Kids are a lot of work. I must’ve been hard for my dad to manage as a kid, especially having hockey practice five days a week. But I think sometimes that was a good way to get me out of my dad’s hair so he could get shit done. And eventually my practices were a good place for him to scout.
While I never had a problem with going to practice, school work was always a fight. I feel like it’s the same way for some of these kids. I’ve already sent my dad an email with the names of a couple kids who have serious potential, but likely can’t afford the training they’ll need to make hockey a career. I don’t expect to hear from him until he’s back from his cruise, but I like to keep him informed.
I hit the staff showers, which allow some privacy, and wait until the water gets hot before I step under the spray. I ignore the spiders living in the corner of the stall and the slight, mildewy smell. Sometimes it’s nice not to have the conveniences and luxuries of home. It reminds me how lucky I am that playing professional hockey has worked out. However, I am relieved to find the water pressure is decent. I must have played six rounds of ball hockey today between sessions with the kids and playing with the junior counselors.
I consider rubbing one out in the shower. It’s been two days since I’ve been able to take care of my business. If I don’t help myself out soon, I’m going to have a raging case of blue balls. They’re already achy, and the only pictures I’ve been looking at are the ones of Sunny in her bikini.
Lathering up, I grab my handle and give it a quick tug. My balls tighten like little fists. This won’t take long at all. With my back to the spray, I start stroking. I keep my eyes closed so I can picture Sunny naked, under me, her legs wrapped around my waist. I don’t think I last much more than two minutes. I’d be embarrassed, but efficiency is more important than longevity in this case.
I cut the water and towel off, putting on a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I almost bowl over one of the female counselors on my way out. She’s in a two-piece bathing suit, but it’s not like the ones the bunnies wear. It actually covers all her important parts. Her ass isn’t even hanging out the back.
Randy’s standing beside her with his towel and a change of clothes. “You go first.” He nods to the open stall.