Blocked (EBOOK)

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The first question I always got when people found out I played ice hockey was “Do you have all of your teeth?”
The second was “Do you—you know—look at the guys in the locker room?”
The first I could deal with easily—flash a smile of my full set of chompers, no gaps in sight. The second was more problematic. Especially since it was typically accompanied by a smug smile or a coy wink.
Of course I looked. Everybody looked once. Everyone snuck a glance, made a judgment that was quickly filed away and shoved deep down into the recesses of our minds.
And I meant way down.
Because, dammit, I was there to play hockey, not assess my teammates’ six packs. If I wanted to get my man candy fix, I could just go on social media. There were shirtless guys for days filling my feed.
But that wasn’t the answer the media wanted.
Who cared about locker room dynamics? Who gave a damn whether or not I, as a typical heterosexual woman, found my fellow players attractive?
Yet for some inane reason, it did matter to people.
I wasn’t stupid. The press wanted a story. A scandal. They were desperate for me to fall for one of my teammates—or better yet the captain from our rival team—and have an affair that was worthy of a romantic comedy.
I’d just gotten very good at keeping my love life—as nonexistent as it was—to myself, gotten very good at not reacting in any perceptible way to the insinuations.
So, when the reporter asked me the same set of questions for the thousandth time in my twenty-six years, I grinned—showing off those teeth—and commented with a sweetly innocent “Could’ve sworn you were going to ask me about the coed showers.”
I waited for the room-at-large to laugh before saying,
“Next question, please.”