The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland

“Ah.” I nodded. “Dumb jock stigma.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So you expected me to be stupid because I’m so pretty?”

She laughed. “Sorry. I guess I was kind of labeling you.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll give you a pass. What’s your major? Baton twirling? I mean, you are hot.”

Setting everything except one of the ice packs down, I whacked the plastic bag against the table to activate the cold. The inner bag made a popping sound and began to swell. After I finished getting the second one ready, I pointed to her foot. “Can I take a look?”

“I’m a third-year med student. I can get it checked at the hospital later. I just started ER rotations, and I stand for hours at a time. I just wanted to keep the swelling down before I had to go over there in a little while.”

My brows shot up. “You’re a third-year med student, and your treatment plan of choice was ice pops and electrical tape?”

“Shut up. It’s what was available.”

“Can I take a look anyway?”

She sighed. “Sure. Why not?”

Fifteen years of playing hockey, with doctors feeling all of my battered bones, had made me pretty damn good at guessing the extent of an injury. I put my hand on her anklebone and pressed. “Does this hurt?”

“Not really.”

Sliding my hand to the soft part of her ankle, I pressed again. “What about this?”

“Oww—yeah, that’s right where it hurts.”

“Any numbness or tingling?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s just sore right where you touched.”

I nodded. “Good. It’s probably not broken. You’d feel it in the bone if it were. My money is on a bruise.”

“Your money? You just bought an empty cup to steal milk. I hope you’re not insulted if I don’t think that statement holds a lot of weight.”

“Good point.” I held out the ice packs to her. “Where’s your sock? You should put it on and tuck these inside. It works a lot better than electrical tape.”

Teagan leaned to the floor and scooped up her backpack. She found her sock, pulled it on, and planted the ice packs inside. While I watched, my stomach growled, so I tore open the box of Cheerios, filled my trusty coffee cup, and poured in some milk from the dispenser before pulling a big spoon from my back pocket and taking a seat across from her.

She laughed. “You brought your own utensil, but not milk?”

I shoveled a heaping spoonful of cereal into my mouth and spoke with it full. “The spoons down here are too small.”

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “You prefer a shovel.”

“I just burned twenty-five-hundred calories at practice. I’m starving.” I pointed to her colorful collection of ice pops on the table. “You better move those, or I might eat them next.”

When I finished the first cup of Cheerios, I immediately poured a second.

“Are you going to eat that entire box?”

“Do you want some?”

“No.”

I shrugged. “Then yeah, probably.”

Teagan laughed. She thought I was joking, but I did eat the entire box most of the time. I freaking loved Cheerios.

“So are you any good?” she asked.

“I’m good at pretty much everything, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”

She rolled her eyes. “At hockey. I mean, if you get injured so much that you can tell if bones are broken, that probably means you aren’t, right?”

I grinned. “You don’t know shit about hockey, do you?”

“Not really.”

“Injuries are part of playing. If you aren’t icing something, you’re not getting much playing time. I’m the team captain.”

“Are you a senior?”

“Freshman.”

“I didn’t think they named freshmen as captains.”

“They don’t. Usually.”

Teagan tilted her head. “Should I be impressed?”

“Nah. Got plenty of better things for you to be impressed about.”

“Like what?”

“Go out with me and I’ll show you?”

She laughed. “Smooth, Captain Yearwood.”

“So is that a yes?”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen. Why?”

“I’m twenty-four.”

I shrugged. “So? Doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”

She tapped her finger to her lip. “I’m not sure. If we did go out, where would we go? Is go out with you code for hookup in your dorm room? Or do you really want to take me out?”

“I’ll take you wherever you want.” I held up my cup of Cheerios. “Though I’m not a fan of eating O Toasties, so make it within reason.”

“O Toasties?”

“Yeah, you know, the knock-off brand. I eat a lot of Cheerios, and if I’m broke, I’m going to have to eat those things, and they taste like cardboard.”

Teagan grinned. “Too bad people don’t put Cheerios in their coffee and there’s no cereal machine you could rob, huh?”

I finished my second cup of Cheerios and downed the milk from the cup before shaking a third helping from the box. I looked around the empty cafeteria. “No Cheerios machine, but there must be a sarcasm dispenser somewhere, since you’re so full of it.”