Page 85 of Puck Yes
Called it.
“I need some social media work. Someone to write about outfits of the day.”
Hello! That’s me! “I’d love to.”
“I’ll DM you later with details. Also, those pants are seriously cute.”
“Thanks. They’re Zoe Slades. Picked them up at Champagne Taste for seventy-five percent off.”
She whistles. “Can you please shop for me?”
“Anytime.”
“But you’ll only write about the outfits I have here,” she says.
I assure her I will and thank her again, then pop into a sock shop next door. Before I go home, I drop off three pairs of socks at Hayes’s door. One for him, one for Stefan, and one for Hayes’s terribly dressed, but not so terribly dressed anymore, grandad.
Back at my place, I text for a bit with my little sister about her semester abroad, and then I write and research fashion till it’s time to head to the arena that night.
* * *
Shortly before the game, I leave the equipment room that doubles as a mascot changing room, and head into the corridor. I’m walking toward the ice when Number Eighteen comes up behind me in his uniform, his eyes traveling up and down my new getup.
“Are you Blob take two?” Stefan asks, incredulous.
I gesture to my gray costume. Just gray. That’s all I am. A gray cloud. “I’m…wait for it…The San Francisco fog,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart. That’s terrible,” he says with sympathy. Stefan glances down the hall, then whispers. “I heard you were joining us briefly for a warm-up lap, but they didn’t tell us you’d be wearing…sadness.”
I pluck at the costume. “It is pretty much the fashion manifestation of tears.”
“Is there someone here that thinks this mascot costume is a good idea?”
I shrug helplessly. “They were trying to be good stewards of the city.”
Seconds later, Hayes joins us, cringing. “Sorry, baby.”
My costume is hideous, but I stifle a grin because they’rebothusing affectionate nicknames in public, and their pet names for me fit their personalities perfectly. I glance down at my garb. “I mean, wouldn’t a foghorn have been better?”
“Yes. Yes, it would,” Stefan says, running a hand over his purple uniform. “But does this mean we’ll have to wear sad gray fog uniforms? And will we be called The Fog?”
“Only if The Fog is more popular with fans than the next two,” I say, and I’m not revealing team secrets since the online voting should be underway any minute.
“It’s totally not voter fraud if we manipulate that poll, is it?” Hayes asks hopefully.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I say.
“We’ll keep your secret safe,” Stefan says, then a smile tips his lips as he whispers, “Thanks for the fox socks.”
“You kind of remind me of one,” I whisper playfully.
“I gathered as much.”
“I guess that means I remind you of a star,” Hayes says with a wink in his voice. “Thanks for the star and planet ones. The llamas too.”
Their soft expressions tell me just how much they liked the gifts—the same gift that I tailored for each guy. “Just don’t wear socks with nothing at all,” I tease.
“Noted,” Stefan says.