Coach sighs, his head drooping forward. I can’t help a little grin. There’s no way Coach wants me out for the season.
Slapping the wood, he steps back and barks, “Fine. I’ll keep this between us, but this crime isn’t going unpunished.”
Chris swallows, sounding loud and nervous.
“This Sunday, you’re both restricted to campus and you’ll be scrubbing the locker rooms plus the showers until they shine. You can also sort the spare storage cupboard for me.” He finishes with a grumble, “If the dean asks any questions, I’ll tell him you volunteered.”
I force a begrudging smile and mumble, “Thank you…I think.”
Coach flicks his head and pulls open the gate. “Get your butts back to your rooms. ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.” Chris skates for the gate, wobbling and stumbling into the wall.
The coach gives him a pitiful frown, like he’s a lost cause, then turns his gaze on me as if to say, You’re wasting your time with this one.
I just shrug and glide off the ice, coming to terms with my Sunday punishment and the fact that I won’t get off campus with Kade and Riley. I’m also trying to deal with the fact I’ll be hanging out with Chris all day. I shouldn’t be looking forward to it.
I should be grumbling and cursing, but I’m not.
And I don’t really know why.
#11:
Wet Rags and Slimy Shower Stalls
Christiana
Gripping the soapy bucket of water, I stand beside Trey and survey the disgusting locker room. Grime, mold, sweats stains on white towels. Urine sprinkling the tiles. Knocked-over bottles of Gatorade staining the benches, the fluorescent liquid dripping onto the floor.
When the guys found out Trey and I were supposed to clean it, they grossed it up as much as they could after the game on Saturday.
A little victory riot to celebrate their win.
I didn’t go to watch the game.
I stayed hidden in my room, pretending that I didn’t love my time with Trey. I’d never even been on the ice before and he had me gliding in under an hour. He was sweet, funny, charming. He likes cinnamon in his hot chocolate, just the way I do. He plays Madden too. It was such a relief to say I loved that game. Matt taught me one weekend when Charlize and I were hanging out at his place. It’s about the manliest thing about me.
I glance to my right, studying Trey’s profile, struck once again by how good-looking he is…and how easy it was to talk to him. There was something so natural between us as he skated around me. It helped me forget. Made me feel like I was a normal person.
He has strong hands.
I like the way they felt on my arms every time he steadied me.
He gave me his jacket.
Scanning the smelly locker room, Trey turns to glare at me. Even that’s good-looking. Straight lines, strong jaw, an unimpressed slant to his mouth.
“All right, let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.
I clear my throat and attempt a smile. He ignores it, dumping his bucket on the floor and bending forward to collect dirty towels.
“You take the showers and urinals. I’ll start in here.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Why should I have to take the gross stuff?”
“Because it’s your fault we’re in this position.”
“My fault?” I slap my bucket down. Water sloshes out and wets my pant leg.
“If you hadn’t made me teach you to skate, I would have been done and back in my room before anyone caught me.”
“I didn’t make you do anything!” I throw my hands wide. “You could have said no!”
“Whatever,” he mumbles. “Just start cleaning.”
I fire him a heated glare, which he turns his back on. Why’s he being such an asshole all of a sudden?
My fault.
Whatever!
I drop my rag into the bucket. It plunges, then bobs to the top, floating on the soapy surface. Trey’s on his knees now, collecting the last of the towels and dumping them in the laundry basket. He directs a hot frown at me.
“What are you staring at? Get on with it.” He waves his finger at the showers.
“The showers and urinals are the foulest thing in here. We should have to do it together.”
Crossing his arms, he shows off his muscles without even realizing it. “Well, I’m not touching them.” He fights a grin. “Scrubbing that piss off the floor will be good strength training. You could use it.”
Turning away with a snicker, he continues picking up gear…and I have a thought.
Pushing up my hoodie sleeves, I snap my rubber gloves, pick up my bucket with the grace and dignity of a queen, and then stroll to the urinals.
They reek. Guys are so disgusting! Is it seriously that hard to aim?
Yellow splashes and dribbles are on practically every tile—walls and floor.
I grimace. I’ve never cleaned a toilet in my life, much less an entire bathroom. But I can’t see that confession getting me out of this. Besides, I have a plan. If I’m going to get Trey back for acting like a total douche then I need to get over myself.