Page 43 of Pucking Good Girl

“Bro,” Tucker bites out, giving back the phone to Becks. “This is some hot shit.”

“Yeah?” Vaughn is lurking around, craning his neck to try to read the phone too. “We all want to see.”

I’m not surprised when Tucker shakes his head. “No, leave him alone.” Then he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at my brother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it was something serious. If I had, I wouldn’t have been a huge asshole and I would have respected your privacy.”

Becks blinks, confused. “You would have?”

“One hundred percent. You’ve been a Cove Knight long enough to know that we’re a big family. We love to rib one another, and we don’t keep secrets. But we have one hard rule when it comes to locker room gossip.”

“What is it?”

I know the answer even before Tucker explains it.

“Giving each other advice, if asked, is fair game. And so is talking about feelings if a teammate is having relationship trouble. But no smack talking and sharing dirty details about serious relationships.”

“Really? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of keeping my shit private. But I heard Vaughn tell the entire bus in detail about getting head from Madison after last week’s game.”

Vaughn steps in to clarify. “Madison is a puck bunny. It’s different.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s awful. So a girlfriend deserves respect, but not a hookup? Shouldn’t we respect all women?”

“We should,” Tucker agrees. “But the puck bunnies want us to talk about them. They love it. And they talk about us too. They have a whole blog dedicated to hooking up with the hockey team. They even rate us. I was in the top three for two years before I got tired of meaningless hookups.”

Vaughn backs him up. “It’s true, Beavis. Madison actually asked me to talk about that BJ.”

“She did?” Becks asks.

I’m not surprised. That’s why I picked my hookups strategically in the summer. I wanted the girls to talk about me as much as possible. The hope was that Gen would get the message that there was no way back together.

“Didn’t you have puck bunnies in Bridgeport?”

Becks thinks about it. “Yeah, I guess we did. I just… gossip isn’t my thing, so I didn’t pay attention. Besides, I think things should be equal. So if I didn’t want to be judged when I hooked up, I thought my partners deserved the same treatment.”

Tucker nods, a proud look in his eyes. “That’s right. And trust me, we don’t judge the bunnies.”

“We love the bunnies just as much as they love us,” Vaughn confirms. “But yeah, girlfriends are a different story. I’m sorry for giving you shit.”

The tension in Becks’s shoulders eases a little and my pulse returns to a normal rate too. Maybe Mom was onto something when she gave him that St. Michael picture.

“You know,” Tucker muses, rubbing his chin. “I think I was too hasty with your nickname. I’m fucking impressed by how much game you have. Ok, team. My mind is made up. From now on, baby Shayba’s new nickname is Lover Boy.”

I roll my eyes, and so does Becks. I guess for once we’re on the same page.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Can I have my phone back now? I need to turn it off and put it away before Coach catches me focusing on something other than the game.”

As if summoned by Becks’s words, Coach Harrison’s voice reaches us from the locker room door.

“That’s right, candy ass pucks. I want your heads where they belong. In the fucking game. We can’t afford any distractions if we want to keep this winning streak alive.”

“Yes, Coach!” I roar, and the rest of the team joins me.

Coach’s lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Let’s go and wipe the ice with Stanford, then. Go Knights!”

“Go Knights!” we all yell in response.

And that night, we do wipe the ice with our opponents. Tucker is an impenetrable wall, commanding the crease and protecting his goal from any scoring attempt Stanford manages to make.

I score two goals, but Becks is the real star of the game. He scores two goals of his own and provides the assists for both my goals. But he doesn’t stop there.