Chapter 8 Dom

Chapter 8

Dom

Our win in Chicago lit a much needed fire under us and our win against the Vancouver Tridents yesterday gives us five wins out of seven since our series with the Comets.

Today is an off day, and other than a quick workout this morning, we are free until our game tomorrow night.

With my hair still wet from the shower, I walk through the locker room to where a few of the guys are already dressed. Running the towel over my head, I drop to the bench and grab my bag to do the same.

“Want to hitch a ride over with me?” I overhear Hendrix asking Cruz as they both tie their shoes.

“Sure, I just heard from Delilah that Mikey is going to cover the shop so she and Willa can come help. Is Poppy already there?”

I pause, my hands on my knees shifting towards them. Dean drops down on the bench between us, a towel around his waist, blocking my ability to eavesdrop the way I want to.

“Are you going to meet us over there?” Hendrix asks Dean.

I open the door to Dean’s locker, leaning over him until I can see myself in the mirror. “Whew. Not invisible. You guys really had me worried for a second.”

All three turn to look at me.

“Anything you want to tell me?” I ask casually. “Or are you just going to leave me hanging?”

Dean raises his eyebrow at me. “I’m not sure you deserve to know if you’re going to be dramatic about it.

I wave him off. “Of course not.”

Hendrix coughs into his elbow. It’s a weak-ass attempt to cover his laughter.

“The girls are over at Indie’s helping unpack. We could use an extra set of hands with her furniture.”

“I’d love to help. Thanks for including me.” I slap him on the back, reaching into my bag and grabbing a fresh pair of undies. My afternoon off suddenly looks much more exciting.

“Just don’t mess with her too much. I know the two of you like to toss barbs around like they’re foreplay, but she just drove across the country, leaving behind a career, her girlfriend, and dad,” Hendrix says standing from the bench and hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

“I think what Hendrix is trying to say is she might not be in the mood for your brand of flirting,” Dean adds, rubbing salt in the wound.

“Got it, no flirting.” I drag out the words, not liking them one bit. “Because she’s got a girlfriend.” Bitterness coats my tongue as I force the words out.

“I give him five minutes,” Cruz says, following Hendrix out the door.

“That seems generous. He’ll piss her off in three, tops.” The door closing cuts off the rest of their conversation.

“You’re both wrong. She’s going to be pissed as soon as she sees me.”

“Probably. But she knows how to handle you. I’m not worried,” Dean says, pulling his shirt over his head as I finish dressing.