Fake Skating(36)

What the fuck even wasthat? I’d gone from zero to under-her-influence in three seconds.

Although in my defense, it had to do with the colonel. Dani’s dad was a controlling dickhead, a controlling dickhead she’d always been insanely devoted to even though he didn’t deserve it, and I’d always had a soft spot for her daddy issues.

Because while she’d do anything to please him, that man wouldn’t lift a finger to throw her the tiniest of crumbs.

So color me unsurprised that he was still making her cry.

But how the hell was I going to fix this? Coach looked like he wanted to kill me, and I couldn’t blame him.

I mean, talk about your shit timing.

This would have been bad enough if Oz were alone, but he was with two coaches from Wisconsin and with Gordy Frye, a local sports reporter who was super connected.

Like, the dude knew everyone in hockey.

“I know that probably looked weird,” I said, working hard for a casual smile like this wasn’t a big deal, but the bottom line was that this was huge. I was supposed to be fixing my reputation, but now these dudes were thinking they’d just witnessed me fucking around with a girl in the locker room—the night before a game—like my head wasn’t in it. And just after the picture of me with the bong.

Dammit, Dani.

Fuck, even thinking her name made me feel unsteady.

Coach said, “If you guys want to step into my office, the stat sheets we were talking about are on my desk. I just need to yell at my player really quickly and then I’ll bring him in and we can all have a nice conversation.”

They gave big laughs like this was all fun and games, but I could tell by the way they were looking at me that they thought I was screwing up again.

As soon as they went into his office, coach went off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Barczewski? All you had to do was keep your nose clean—that’s it. What has it been, like, a day? These guys are here to watch you, and it was a perfect opportunity to prove you’re not what you seem, but you screw it up by bringing a girl into the locker room,” he said, his yelling kind of a spitting growl because he was trying to keep the volume down. He was totally in my face as he raged, “As if that isn’t bad enough, you’re not even dressed. Like, what the fuck? And who the hell even is she? I’ve never seen that girl in my life. Please tell me you didn’t bring a Simley girl into our locker room or someone from another school.”

“God, no,” I said, a little pissed that he didn’t know me better than this. Like why the fuck did everyone always assume the worst? “She’s new here and wants to be a team manager. She was trying—”

“Was she or was she not in the locker room while you were changing?”

“It’s not like that—she’s Mick Boche’s granddaughter!” I said—yelled, actually. “She just moved here, and I’ve known her since we were kids.”

“She’s Boche’s granddaughter?” he said, his eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” I said, glad that little nugget had slowed him down. “She and her mom moved in with him last weekend.”

“No shit?” he said, squinting like he couldn’t keep up. “Does she play hockey?”

“No,” I said, hoping he’d stay distracted by her pedigree. Maybe if I talked about her he’d forget what he thought he just walked into. “She’s a brainiac goody-goody who’s going to Harvard next year. Like the opposite of Mick.”

He crossed his arms. “You said you grew up with her?”

“Our moms are friends,” I explained, “so I’ve known her forever. We were childhood buddies until she moved away.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Gordy popped out of the office wearing a huge grin, the Wisconsin coaches behind him. “I couldn’t help eavesdropping, and did you just say that the girl you were with in the locker room—your childhood sweetheart—is Mick Boche’s granddaughter?”

“Childhood sweetheart” wasn’t exactly right, but it was interesting the way everyone’s faces changed. Suddenly they didn’t look like they were accusing me of being a screwup; they looked like they were interested in the story of me and Boche’s granddaughter.

Whatever it takes.

I wasn’t about to lie, but I wasn’t about to skip away from a bailout, either. I gave my best version of a secretive smile when I said, “Yes, Dani is a direct descendant of Mr. Boche.”

“No way,” Gordy said with a grin. “If you’d told me he had a granddaughter, I’d have thought she’d be a girl who fights, spits, and curses like a sailor. You’re telling me that blonde with the glasses comes from Mick?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, leaning into it. “Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, and would rather read a book than watch a game. The apple fell faron this one.”

“That’s hilarious,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“Gentlemen…” Coach said.

Gordy pointed to the office. “I know, I know—back to the office so you can finish your lecture.”

“I’ll be right in, thanks,” Coach said, but his smile disappeared as soon as the door closed.