I’m not really sure what I was expecting. When Aiden mentioned she was coming in to replace our special teams assistant coach, I don’t know, I thought she’d be in the background. But that’s not the case at all. She is in it to win it. She is loud, and she doesn’t hold back.
“Brooks, you’ve got to dig! Reeves, you’re better than that. If you aren’t going to give me one hundred percent, guys, then get off my ice. I know we have a game tonight, but maybe, just maybe, we can get this and score a goal tonight if y’all go on the power play.”
The girl isn’t playing, and that fuels the boys to work harder. One thing is for sure—she isn’t like Shelli. Everyone talks about how they’re basically twins, but with one look at Posey, I can say with certainty that people are blind. I’ve been around her sister for a while now since Aiden is totally and hopelessly in love with her, and while this is my first interaction with Posey, I already know she is different.
She isn’t prim like her sister; she’s rough around the edges, tough, and that intrigues me. She isn’t all made-up like Shelli always is. Posey’s wearing a ball cap that contains all her hair, and if I weren’t looking as hard as I am, I wouldn’t know it was auburn. Her pants are loose on her, and the only reason I know she has curves is because she took off her jacket, and that showed off a nice set of tits, toned arms, and a trim little waist that leads into some wide, thick hips.
I’m pretty sure giving her a whistle was a crime because she hasn’t stopped blowing it at us. She doesn’t even have to yell to get our attention. She has it, which is weird to me. I’m unsure if it’s because I’ve never had a female coach a day in my life and I’m intrigued by her, but I can’t keep my eyes off her. I’ve always been taught by men, and this isn’t some “I don’t think women are as good as men” shit. My mom is a badass chick, and she raised me with no help, and because of that, I respect the shit out of women. But Posey, I don’t know… It’s odd. I feel… I feel off.
The whole practice, I can’t seem to focus on what we are doing. I’m too fascinated by her. The way she stands so tall in those skates, almost like she’s taking up the rink. She exudes this vibe that she could skate circles around us, and the crazy fucking thing is, I kind of think she could. Even beside a very powerful man, our coach, she stands like she is his equal. Again, not saying she’s not, but he’s a two-time Olympian, won the Cup five different times, and can coach like it’s as easy as breathing. He’s a badass. She’s young, fresh out of college, yet she’s making me think she can skate circles around him too.
It’s freakin’ mind-blowing!
I don’t get it.
It bothers me so much that as we head back to the locker room after the ass-reaming she gave us, I glance over at Wes and try to read him. He’s happy-go-lucky Wesley, just heading to the locker room with no cares. I look at Aiden—same thing, he put in the work, and he’s ready for the game. I look around at the rest of my teammates, and everyone is so unaffected. Except me. I am affected by her, and I don’t like it one fucking bit. Is it because she got on to me multiple times? I feel maybe she has it in for me. She sure did yell my name more times than anyone else, but she did go off on all of special teams. She’s ruthless and believes in perfection. Can’t hate on her; I want the same. So then, why am I so bothered by her?
I come out of the shower later, after trying to analyze why I can’t stop thinking about everything she did and said on the ice. Why did she leave her pen up in her cap at her temple? Like, that’s weird. Why not throw it in your pocket? She took off her jacket but never took off her ball cap. Does she not like her hair? Did she not brush it? That’s why I keep my ball cap on when I wear one.
I’ve never seen a girl like her. I look around the room at my teammates. No one has said a word about Posey. Not one. They’re talking game shit, women problems, and even kid problems, but no one has mentioned how they feel about her.
Shit. Why am I so bothered by her?
“So, do we like her?” I find myself asking. Everyone looks at me, confused, and I hold up my palms. “Coach Adler. Do we like her?”