Miles freezes mid-sip of his water bottle. “I’m sorry…what?”
“For demonstration purposes,” Leo clarifies, moving bags and equipment so there’s room for dancing in the middle of the locker room. “You need to play her part in the tango so Clueless over here can figure it out.” He hooks a thumb at me.
“But why do I have to be the woman?” Miles protests.
“Because you’re the goalie,” Leo answers as if this makes sense.
“And you have the best hair,” Rourke tacks on.
Miles blinks. “Can I at least lead?”
“Defeats the purpose,” Leo says. “You need to play Scarlett’s part.”
“But I’m 210 pounds,” he mutters. “She’s like half my size.”
“If he can dance with Baloo the bear, he can dance with anyone,” Leo explains. “Now get into position.”
We both stare at each other for about two seconds before I shake my head. “This would be significantly less humiliating if you were wearing more than a towel.”
“And if I were a woman,” Miles says.
“That too,” I agree.
“Come on, Miles,” Rourke teases. “Just pretend it’s Gabriella.”
Miles stares at him. “She’s my athletic trainer.”
“Oh?” Rourke howls. “What kind oftrainingare we talking about?”
Miles’ face flames. “You know what? I’m not doing this. Find someone else to play her part.”
“You’re fired anyway,” Leo says, then waves Rourke over. “Get over here and be my partner, Riley. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
“Me?” Rourke’s eyebrows fly up. “I’m not dancing with you.”
Leo rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be the woman.”
Brax chuckles. “That’s one thing I never thought I’d hear you say, Ego.”
Leo points at him. “And it never leaves the locker room.” He motions toward Tate next. “Tate, you and Brax pair up. We’re going to show Brendan how to tango.”
“Seriously?” Brax tips his head back. “The things I do for you guys.”
“You know what?” Tate interrupts, picking up a hockey stick. “Why don’t we all just dance with these?”
“Much better idea,” Miles says with relief, grabbing a stick before anyone else.
Leo cranks the music as the others get sticks. But when Miles turns around, he accidentally whacks Leo in the back of the head with his hockey stick.
“Hey! Watch where you’re swinging that thing!” Leo yells, clutching his head.
Just like that, the dance lesson instantly devolves into guys smacking each other and towels almost falling off.
Only Tate and I stand at the side, observing the chaos.
“Well,” Tate says dryly. “That lesson went well.”
“I should’ve known better than to think a locker room full of big egos would end in anything but a hockey brawl.”