Heteronym

Chapter 37

I just want to put it out there that some people for some reason are seeing chapter 37 before 36 so make sure to read the chapter numbers first! Love y'all!

The sound of a soccer ball getting kicked around the locker room filled my ears with the laughs of my teammates around me. A smile graced my lips as I laughed at Corey, one of the defenders, as he tried to kick the ball back to me over one of couches in the Edmonton Oiler's guest locker room. He failed miserably, almost hitting himself in the face with the black and white ball.

Luka stuck his foot out before it hit the ground and bumped it up over the furniture. It rolled of the grey seat of the couch, Ed's black sock covered foot catching the ball in the crook of his ankle before giving the patterned ball another bump to my right. I burst out laughing as the sphere hit Taylor smack dab in the middle of his forehead where he and Beck sat on the lip of their cubbies, looking at something on Taylor's phone.

My boyfriend snorted with amusement, catching my sparkling eyes across the room as Taylor looked up and glared at Ed and I like it was my fault. "If I get a concussion before the game even starts I'll kill you two."

"Don't be a pussy, Novak," I retorted as Beck tossed me the ball back. I stopped it with the side of my foot before kicking it back at Taylor. The bearded brunette didn't even try to stop it, instead just ducking down as it hit the wood behind him, landing in his cubby.

"Not getting that back."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You're literally the grandpa of this team."

"I'm twenty six."

"And you're no fun."

I watched as Beck grabbed to ball from behind where Taylor was sitting while the hockey captain tried to hit it out of my boyfriends hands, sending the soccer ball back onto the carpeted floor. I reached out with my foot and kicked the ball away from Taylor's reaching arm as he 'dived' forward to catch it. A deep laugh bubbled off Beck's lips and filled my ears, a rich sound that I never got sick of. I stand by the fact that Beckett Sampson is the sexiest man in the world. I swear to god, sometimes I have a hard time looking at him with a straight face and not feeling turned on. It wasn't healthy.

Tonight we were playing the Oilers if you hadn't already figured it out. This was my fourth game since returning to the ice, and my return had gone smoothly for the most part. Even before Christmas, that's when I quickly learned that the so called 'tension' in the locker room was a direct result of the coaching staff on everyone's asses. Beck could joke with me about getting drug tested six times, but the head coach was riding him hard. I know he doesn't control the tests, the league does, but I'm sure he has influence.

Ever since I had to go on the injury reserve, Coach wanted everyone to be acting five times better than humanly possible. According to Taylor there was a few days where he didn't even want to show up to work. Even my first week back was a shit show. In practice my friends were distracted, I was frustrated, and every one else was just tired of the drama. It made me feel guilty but I couldn't control it. Luckily, it faded soon enough.

"So Riley, when do I get to see that tattoo that turned Instagram upside down in person?" Taylor asked when he rolled into his back from the ground, tossing the ball to Niels as I took his seat besides Beck.

"Never," Beck cut in without even needing to process what Taylor had just snarkily hinted at. I couldn't help but smirk at Beck's protective 'I'll beat your ass' tone. My newest tattoo happened to be a very controversial '666' printed on my hip very close to my ass like Kylie Jenner's butt tattoo. Honestly, I didn't care what other people thought. I got it because there are always going to be people out there trying to hurt you. I didn't have faith in everyone, I had faith in a few. But for all of those people who wanted to hate on me when I was supposed to be a role model, if they really wanted to see it in a different light, 666 was the number of the angels calling for balance. So yeah, maybe I did need balance but my tattoo wasn't malicious. If anything it was a bleak reminder of what I battle on a daily basis.

"I got to be honest, though," Taylor drawled. "If my girlfriend wanted to post a picture like that I don't know if I'd be cool with that."

"Her body her choice," Beck echoed my thoughts exactly.

"But isn't there a line?" Taylor asked not accusingly, but genuinely curiously. "I mean, she's practically bent over in front of the entire world."

It wasn't that raunchy. It was a picture of me on my toes, leaning forwards on the railing on the balcony of our apartment with glass sides, overlooking New York City. It wasn't like I was literally bent over; it was a natural looking stance. I was wearing a black bikini which admittedly was a little scandalous, but how was it any different then the beach? I worked hard for my body so I would show it off. Of course people called me a slut because of it, but I didn't care. Because despite what it may seem like, I really only care about my loved ones and my employers opinions of me and in the sports world, a bikini photo was nothing to get worked up over especially when players regularly take part in raunchy shoots for magazines.

If someone had a problem with me, then could shove it up their ass.

"I'm not bent over," I defended myself without hesitation. "And you know, maybe if one of us had an office job it would be different, but neither one of our careers are effected by our social media so I have no problem posting what I do."

"Okay, but like don't you get jealous? Like how can you just be okay with other guys looking at Danny like that? You're one of the most possessive guys I know and if someone said to Danny's face half the shit they say on line, you'd knock their lights out." Taylor asked innocently while sitting up fully, resting his arms on his knees a few feet from the two of us.

"We work hard for our bodies, Tay. Think of an athlete that doesn't post the occasional shirtless photo or one of themselves in the gym; there is none. It's the same thing."

"That, and those people are never going to meet Danielle," Beck added. "She could be a porn star for all I care and it would change the fact that I'm the one that gets to have her at the end of the day. So let them look online; as long as they aren't hitting on my girlfriend in front of my face, then I really don't give a shit."

Someone give my offensive captain a fucking medal because those were the two sentences of the year.

"Besides, who do you think took the picture?" I asked Taylor with a raised eyes eyebrow, leaning against the edge of the cubby, my nerdy brushing Beck's.

"If this isn't the epitome of a relationship then I don't know what is because I would never be able to be that self assured in a relationship. I don't even think most celebrities are that okay with their relationship."

"We'll take that as a compliment," I answered for Beck, standing up and extending my hand to Taylor. His large hand took my own as I helped pull the hundred-ninety pound hockey player to his feet. "It almost showtime, Boys."

"So you better stop thinking about my girlfriends ass and start thinking about the ice," Beck added on while tossing a dark blue helmet at Taylor. The Captain barley managed to catch it before it hit him in the face like the soccer ball had. "I'd throw your skates but I think we need you to be non-bleeding."

"Is this the kind of education intellectuals get from law school?" Taylor asked jokingly. "Then I'm glad I dropped out for this, Genius."

"When you're jobless after this and we have successful careers, I'll remember this conversation," Beck pointed at Tay jokingly.

"Keep talking shit, Ivy League."

"Didn't go to an Ivy League school."

"Oh no, it's the end of the world," Taylor drawled sarcastically.

I think I have a habit for attracting idiots. Too bad I love them too much to let them go.

This team was my family.