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Summary
“Kiss her? No shit you did not kiss her. Who kisses a hookup?” Leblanc’s challenging tone is enough to derail Shane’s thoughts and steer him back into the present.
“Jesus, now you are just embarrassing yourself, Willy,” McKay crows. “Man gets zero play. It’s like the cardinal rule of hookups, dude. Just sex. Nothing else”
Wilkins shakes his head, somehow still beaming. “Whatever man. Nothing is going to kill this high. I’m about to play like the Hockey Gods themselves have decided I am their chosen one. You better be ready.”
Shane locks his phone and presses it upside down inside his locker. Something still feels off about his pre-ice routine, but he can’t stay in this stuffy locker room for one more minute. So he goes. Wordlessly.
OR: Shane overhears a conversation his teammates have about a hookup. He learns the cardinal rule of hookups is to never kiss, and subsequently realizes he has broken that rule. Many times. He spirals.