Page 3 of The Risk Taker

I click my tongue, leaning back against the wall with a grin. “Miss me, did you?”

His eyes narrow before he turns his back. I can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out. God, he’s fun to piss off. The guy’s a human brick wall—silent, stubborn. Which, of course, just makes me want to push harder.

Austin stands, grabbing his stick and nudging my elbow. “You look like shit,” he says. “Who’s the lucky lady this time?” He pauses, smirking. “Or guy?”

I tug my hoodie off and shrug. “I have a vague memory of her saying she did gymnastics.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Or maybe she just liked gymnastics. Either way, she was flexible. Other than that… I couldn’t tell you her name even if I wanted to.”

Austin barks out a laugh and shoves me away. Once upon a time, he’d have been right there with me. Now he’s gone soft. Domesticated. The kind of guy who used to do body shots off strangers and now spends Friday nights watching baking shows with his girlfriend.

He’s happy.

And it’s gross.

“Figures,” Nathan mutters, his voice flat enough to make me grin.

I catch the flick of his eyes my way and tilt my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. He’s hot—infuriating, uptight, stick permanently up his ass—but still, hot.

And maybe I poke at him more than I should. Maybe I like the way his jaw clenches when I flirt too easily, or how he immediately looks away whenever I stretch during practice.

Being bi doesn’t mean I want every guy in the room. But I’d have to be dead not to notice the goalie with the ridiculous hands and the arms that make half the girls in the stands lose focus. Nathan Hayes is annoyingly nice to look at.

The door bangs open, and Coach Hayes storms in, whistle already blaring. “Warm-ups in five. Austin, turn that goddamn music down.”

“C’mon, Coach. It hypes everyone up,” Austin says.

“It definitely doesn’t,” Nathan deadpans.

Cole, in the corner, doesn’t even look up from taping his stick. “Makes me want to choke you.”

Typical Cole. Man of few words… all of them insults.

Ryan just shrugs. “Eh. I don’t mind it.”

Austin claps him on the back. “Knew I liked you, Reed.”

Ryan flicks his hand away. “Yeah, yeah. Move your ass. And you—” His eyes find me. “Get your gear on. Now.”

I roll my eyes and crack open my locker… only to freeze.

What’s inside isn’t my gear. Not even close. The pads are kid-sized, the gloves look stolen from a toddler, and the skates—Christ—the skates look like they belong to Shaq.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I hold up the jersey. It barely hits mid-ribcage. “What the actual fuck?”

Behind me, a wheezing noise starts up and I turn just in time to see Austin doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bench.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps out between cackles. “I forgot we did that.”

Ryan doesn’t even bother pretending to be innocent. He’s leaning against the boards, arms crossed, smirking like a smug little gremlin. “Serves you right for showing up late again.”

I toss the baby-sized shoulder pads back into the locker with a groan. “I’m not a fucking rookie anymore. Hazing was one thing freshman year, but two years in?” I lift a brow. “Come on. I’ve suffered enough.”

Austin slaps his knee, laughing. “You’ll always be a rookie to us, Gray.”

I narrow my eyes. “Where’s my real gear?”

The rookies all glance at each other, then suddenly get very busy tying their skates. Ryan and Austin exchange a look that screamsguilty.Cole doesn’t even glance up—he’s in his stall, taping his stick.

Which leaves… Nathan.