Liliana
I’m recording Rowan taping up all of Wyatt’s equipment. It’s going to be the first prank of the week, and it’s going to be epic. Rowan really gets in there with the masking tape, putting all of Wyatt’s equipment into a big ball, from his skates and helmet to his protective gear. Rowan then hangs it on Wyatt’s hook and places Wyatt’s jersey in front of it, covering the ball of equipment.
“You better hurry,” I warn. The team is supposed to be here any minute for morning practice.
“It really sucked to wake up so early on a Monday morning to do this, but I can’t wait to see the look on Wyatt’s face,” Rowan says as he does the finishing touches on his prank.
He then walks over to me and looks at the camera, lifting his index and middle finger, giving me the peace sign. “I’m out.”
I end the camera roll and we both start laughing. I’ve had a blast working with these guys. It’s been fun boosting their accounts, and best of all, I get paid nicely to do it.
“My dad is going to freak over the fact I’m in the locker room when the guys arrive, but I need to get the right angles for the clip. We need to catch Wyatt’s face when he sees his stuff is all taped up,” I explain to Rowan.
“I’m standing off to the side. I don’t want to get pounced by him,” Rowan says, referring to Wyatt.
Papa knows it’s prank week and I’ll be in here filming. I give him all kinds of quick updates. What’s weird is we haven’t met up for a real talk or meeting since the semester started. I mean, I’m his daughter. I thought the fact he had me close would mean we would spend more time together, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. When I’ve travelled with the team to games, Papa is all business. When I’m working PR for the team, he’s also business. Even when we are alone and I update him on my PR plans, he’s still about business. The only thing he’s asked me is how my classes are going and what grades I’ve been getting so far. When he hears I’m doing well and headed for a four-point-zero GPA this semester, he nods like he’s pleased.
Wyatt walks in and Rowan hides behind the lockers.
“Oh, hi,” he says, noticing me standing off to the side. His face scrunches because he isn’t used to seeing me in the locker room. Most of the work we’ve been doing has taken place in the media room.
I don’t reply. He removes his jersey. “What the. . .?” He lifts the ball of equipment that is super taped up. “Good one,” he laughs. The guys were all warned about prank week and advised to play along. It’s probably the reason his response is also PG. “Which one of the clowns on the team is responsible for this?” He shakes his head and smiles.
Rowan comes out in the gear he wears under his hockey uniform. It consists of a tight blue shirt and tight pants that look thermal. He’s also wearing a tutu, which was not planned at all. He dances on his toes and makes a straight line past Wyatt. Wyatt keels over from laughter. It’s super funny but I can’t afford to miss these angles, so I contain my laughter for later.
“Just wait until I get you back,” Wyatt warns Rowan. “Good one, guys.” He laughs and then I press pause on the camera.
“Awesome. That went well,” I say as the rest of the guys start to pour in.
Levi stops when he sees me. “Beautiful, I don’t think you should be in here. Your dad is going to whoop our asses if you see any of ours.”
I laugh because he’s funny. I can’t believe Logan thought there was something between Levi and me. The guy may be hot, but he is completely not my type. Not that I have a type. Logan is completely different than Tristan in looks, build, and personality and yet I liked Tristan, and now I find myself having a hard time keeping Logan at arm’s length. It’s terrible because I told him we need to be friends and then I saw that girl grinding on him in the club, and I was seeing red. I wanted my butt rubbing on his crotch. Then there he was outside the bathroom, eating me up with his gaze, and I caved like a moth to a flame, kissing him like I was starved for his taste while wanting his hands all over me. His lips devouring me everywhere like he did in Hawaii. I’m just thankful it was Noah who caught us and not someone else, because the last thing I would need is for Papa to find out how careless I was.
Logan walks into the locker room and now all the guys are pretty much here. Everyone gets a good laugh out of the prank, while Wyatt works to get all the tape off his equipment since Rowan did too good a job.
Logan smiles at me and I pull my gaze away. What happened at the club can’t happen again.
Papa enters the locker room and his nostrils flare when he sees me, “I was just leaving,” I say, increasing my pace to the exit.
“Good,” Papa replies sternly. “Meet me in my office.”
I hear some of the guys making oooing sounds as I leave the locker room. I head into Papa’s office and he’s just a beat behind me.
“I don’t like you in the locker room,” he says.
I turn on my heel to face him. “I don’t have much choice, do I? It’s kind of part of the job description. I think the fans will go crazy over the video we shot today.”
“Good.” Papa grins. “You’re doing a good job, but you need to be careful. You know how these guys are.” Since I was a teenager, Papa has been warning Alessa and me away from jocks. They’re players, they’re only after one thing.
“It’s not just jocks who can be jerks,” I say because Tristan was the furthest thing from a jock. He was smart and studious. He was a runner, so he had a slim build. Papa loved him.
“I know. I don’t need reminding. That boy let me down,” he says, as if he doesn’t realize how hurt I was.
“Tell me about it,” I say dryly.
“But you’re doing good. Classes are going well. You’ve made friends,” he says it like a statement, even though I know he’s asking. I’m starting to realize hockey’s his life. His family has come second, maybe. Not sure where Mama feels like she fits into this equation.
“Yes, to all the above. Classes are good. I’ve made friends,” I confirm. “And I love this job.”
Papa frowns. Shouldn’t he be happy for me?
“I noticed how friendly you’ve become with the players,” he says like he has a bad taste in his mouth.
“I’m here every morning working with them. I’ve developed a positive rapport with them, which helps with my job,” I explain.
“But these guys are. . .”
“They’re your players,” I remind him.
“And I want them to succeed. It’s my job to ensure they do, but when it comes to my daughter. . .”
“Papa, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not so sure about that after what Tristan pulled,” he says, and his words feel like a punch to the gut.
My therapist’s voice enters my mind. Papa is my critical voice, and I don’t want to hear it anymore. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Tristan was the one who behaved badly, and he hid it well. There was no way I could’ve known he was cheating when he was talking to me about an engagement,” I explain. “Stop trying to make it seem like there was something wrong with me. I’m a smart person. I have good sense when it comes to many things. I don’t need you putting me down.” My tone is harsh and angry, even if I don’t mean it to be, but his words feel like acid burning me from the inside out, and I can’t take it anymore.