“Wait,” he says, reaching for his bag.
He searches for several seconds to pull out a gold bracelet. Iknowwhat it is and what he’s about todo. It was a habit at the time, which he had picked up when traveling. I know that when he has no choice, he just puts his jewelry away in his belongings, hoping that no one will come to search the locker room. I just wonder if, when I wasn’t around, Harriet hadthatprivilege.
He slips his bracelet into my hand, staring silently at me as I squeeze my fingers around it, keeping his slightly captive at the same time. I withdraw my hand, abandoning his which falls limply against his body. My hand remains tense around his bracelet. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s always worn it. He had it enlarged almost every year during his teenage years until it now fit his adult male wrist. I can still see the gold sticking perfectly with his dark skin, the veins of his forearms, the width of his hands. I have always found this bracelet ultra-sexy on him. A gift from his father for his first hockey game when he was little. A lucky charm which he only takes off to go on the ice. He keeps it in his stuff at home and always gives it to someone during away games. That someone has often been me.
It was something between us that, unconsciously, brought me closer to him.
A sudden hot flash of arousal takes ahold of my stomach. I don’t know if he can hear the pounding of my heart, if he notices my sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t move an inch. Looking into my eyes as if I were…precious.
“Nice jersey,” he adds, detailing me from head to toe. “You know you have mine too or Leo’s?”
“You have a girlfriend,” I say a little abruptly.
He laughs, aware that as soon as a girl wears a player’s jersey, she finds herself labeled either as a groupie or assomething else. Guys like to think that it’s a kind of claim they stake, something that prevents I don’t know what from other men. Iwear it because I support my brother, not because I belong to anyone. I wore Nolan’s jersey only once, and it still burns my skin. I felt overwhelmed by a whole bunch of emotions, it was stupid,I wasstupid. I haven’t put it back on since.
“She hasn’t had that honor yet,” he says.
He winks at me but doesn’t have time to add anything before the door smashes against the wall and his coach appears in the locker room. My bubble is bursting. He stares at us, and I cringe. Nolan walks past me, as if he understood that I didn’t feel comfortable, or that his coach was going to jump down our throats for staying locked in here when the game was about to start.
“Equipment problem, Coach,” he confesses before the latter speaks.
“Is that what they say these days?”
His deep voice is hoarse, and he peers at me inquisitively before pulling Nolan by the shirt. Luckily for me, neither of them witnessed the excessive redness that my cheeks took on as soon as his coach insinuated that we were doingsomethingin the locker room.
“Everybody’s waiting for you, you little prick. Didn’t you hear the signal? No, you were too busy making eyes at aMartin. Always theMartins.”
I trot along behind them, slipping the bracelet around my wrist while laughing as I watch Nolan get his ears pulled by his coach. He’s a man built like a tank, and I have no trouble imagining him on a hockey team, thirty years ago. I heard that he played several seasons with the Boston Bruins before getting injured and converting. A godsend for the university to have such a guy to train its players. We get to the rink pretty quickly and without a look in my direction, Nolan joins the team. I go around their box to find the girls in our spot. The gold tickles my wrist and I fiddle with the bracelet, thinking of Nolan’s fingersin mine.
Damn child’s crush that doesn’t pass.
13
Nolan
Tucked into the seats at the back of the bus, I peek out of the window. Edgar’s Jeep, driven by Scarlett, is just behind. I can see her best friend, Paige, sitting next to her, and see them chatting heatedly. I look away as my girlfriend’s voice echoes in my ear.
“How was the game?” she asks happily.
“We lost.”
My hoarse tone reflects defeat and I hear her sigh into the phone.
“I’m sure you did your best. It was a preseason game; the championships haven’t started yet.”
“I know.”
I slump in the leather seat, ignoring the guys around me who are chatting. There’s no euphoria on the bus. We know that our game was not exceptional and the guys from Durham played extremely well. We were bad and the coach didn’t hesitate to let us know. Usually there is music, laughter, and jokes on the bus, tonight it’s pretty quiet.
“Are you coming to my place? I’m pretty sure I can cheer you up.”
The innuendo makes her voice vibrate, and I let my head fall against the headrest, closing my eyes as I imagine a thousand and one waysto cheer myself upwith Harriet. But I’m sore everywhere. I got smashed in the rink, I’m exhausted and irritated, not sure I’m exceptional company. Even for sex, a man can skip his turn.
I hold back a laugh, running a weary hand over my face as I remember very clearly the conversation, I had with Scarlett about this. In the kitchen, while Edgar was in the corner. I like to play with the Martin family’s nerves, and I must say that I’mgetting better every day.
“Tomorrow,” I promise. “I don’t know what time we’ll be back, and I need to rest a bit.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I’m glad I got you on the phone.”