The Locker Room Surprise

The first thing Cora Suhyun Han saw was the broad, muscular back of a man.

The deep trench of his spine stood out sharply against the glistening skin of his back, the kind of broad shoulders that promised power. Below it, thick thighs that could match the girth of most women’s waists, and even lower, the kind of firm, rounded backside that hockey players were famous for—soft yet rock-hard from years of skating and hitting pucks at full speed.

His body was carved and pumped full of muscle from decades of dedicated training. And that particular part, the one that always got attention, was a shade darker from the sun, leaving the rest of his sun-kissed skin looking almost pale in contrast.

Cora had barely turned her head before the man twisted his hips and spun around.

The second her gaze dropped, it locked onto the strange, swinging length that hung between his legs. She knew exactly what it was supposed to be there. The size was so obscene her brain short-circuited and all sense of reality faded.

She had never imagined anything so grotesque in length or girth. The color was a shocking, pretty pink, like the thick strawberry ice pops she used to buy as a kid. It looked like something she would definitely want to bite into.

Cora’s eyes blinked slowly, trying to make sense of it.

This had to be a hallucination caused by nerves. There was no other explanation.

“See? This is what happens when you stand here dripping wet,” Tristan Lockwood said in that arrogant, lazy drawl. “You’re fine. You don’t need to stare like you’re about to faint. We just met, and it’s not like I’m asking you to take it to bed or anything.”

“…I— I’m—”

Cora’s brain finally rebooted at the sound of Tristan’s voice. She whipped her head around so fast her neck popped. Her cheeks burned hot, and her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.

“I— I’m sorry.”

“Walking into the men’s locker room on your own two feet and then acting like this is your first time seeing a naked guy? Pathetic.”

“…”

“Just look. No big deal.”

“You told me to come in!”

“I told you to get changed in five minutes. Did your ears not work?”

Tristan’s tone was all cocky and relaxed, but Cora’s heart was slamming against her ribs like it wanted out. She shoved her trembling hand into the tote bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a pink Hello Kitty pouch, holding it out with a shaky arm.

“Here! I brought this for you!”

Tristan glanced at the pouch in her trembling fingers and let out a low, amused chuckle.

“My gift? Thanks, but I’m not really into that kind of thing.”

“It has your watch inside! I’m giving it to you now, so just come by the shop later and pay me back on credit. Please…”

“Oh, right. Forgot. Sorry.”

The moment she heard that dry laugh, she felt him move closer behind her.

The soft slap of wet feet hitting the cold tile floor sounded like a warning shot.

Cora squeezed her eyes shut tight.

A second later his body heat rolled over her like a wave. She could feel every inch of that warm, bare chest brushing her back, the faint scent of soap still clinging to his skin. The front of her brain short-circuited completely.

She should be the one who was tense right now. She was fully clothed. He wasn’t. And yet he sounded completely unbothered.

Looking up, Cora opened her eyes just enough to see his amused grin as he took the pouch from her shaking hand. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered.

“Cora.”

“…”

“I can even toss you a towel too, if you want.”

She blinked again. When she looked, the towel sat on the bench within easy reaching distance.

Cora tried to answer, but her arm moved on its own. She grabbed the towel and shoved it toward him.

“Thanks.”

Tristan wrapped the towel around his waist without missing a beat, the soft sound of the terrycloth snapping into place filling the awkward silence. Cora stood frozen for a second, then finally found her voice.

“Well… I gave you the watch, so come by the shop and pay me back soon, okay? Otherwise I’m gonna be in trouble.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Cora took a step forward to escape, but Tristan’s voice stopped her.

“Wait. Before you go— can you do one thing for me?”

His tone was fake-serious, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. Cora narrowed her gaze and turned her head just in case the watch had somehow broken.

“What?”

The second their eyes met, Tristan gave her that cocky, playful smile and started loosening the knot at the front of his towel.

“Tell me straight— do you think it’s pretty from the front?”

The second the towel loosened, Cora screamed.

“You fucking pervert!” she yelled, bolting out of the locker room like the building was on fire.

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, the sound bright and genuinely delighted, nothing like the cold, arrogant captain she usually saw.

Levin, one of the teammates, stared at him with his mouth open. “What the hell? Captain never laughs like that. Like, ever.”

The Jersey Club was quieter than usual that afternoon.

The deep fryer in the kitchen had gone silent. The only sounds were the low hum of the radio and the soft whir of the blender. It was that tiny lull before the evening rush—before the college crowds showed up.

Angela Gardner was sitting on a bar stool, legs crossed, looking bored while the other servers gathered around her. She was the kind of girl who knew how to liven up any room, and right now she was using that talent on her coworkers.

“Listen up,” she said, voice low and playful. “Did you know Jack shakes his protein shaker in the weirdest way? Like, right here.”

She lifted the blender bottle and gave it a slow, up-and-down motion right in front of her lap, demonstrating exactly what she meant.

“It’s like he’s doing something else entirely. You know what I mean?”

The other servers lost it, cracking up. Cora’s social battery, however, was running dangerously low.

She wasn’t the type who enjoyed these kinds of jokes. But in a social world like this—especially as a woman of color—she needed to fit in. Otherwise people would start treating her like the token Asian girl or the awkward introvert who didn’t get it.

Once the laughter died down, it was her turn.

Cora felt the weight of everyone’s eyes. She scanned the room for something—anything—safe to joke about. Then she remembered who they were all talking about.

The campus legend. Tristan Lockwood.

Black hair, steel-blue eyes, that smooth, cocky smile that made half the school weak in the knees. Everyone knew the name.

Cora didn’t like to mock people behind their backs, but after the way he’d humiliated her yesterday… in the locker room… all of a sudden she didn’t feel so bad about it.

Especially since she could still picture the look on his face when she’d walked in on him completely naked.

Her cheeks burned again just thinking about it.

‘He probably did that on purpose just to mess with me. God, my heart was still racing all night.’

She cleared her throat and stepped into the spotlight.

“I’m gonna impersonate the hockey captain. Watch this.”

Cora slid her hands into the apron pockets and flicked her thumb out in a classic Clint Eastwood squint, her face dead serious. The room went quiet.

“…Hey.”

She tilted her chin up, eyes sparkling with fake intensity. Then she let out a loud, over-the-top laugh.

“I’m Tristan Lockwood.”

“…”

“My introduction probably isn’t necessary. If you don’t know the last name Lockwood… well, you must’ve been asleep in AP U.S. History.”

Pha! The servers exploded with laughter.

“Hockey? Yeah, that’s right. It’s the legal way to beat up people on the ice. Mess with me and I’ll knock your teeth out with a hockey stick. And when I shoot the puck? The ice clears out for me. Because I’m Tristan Lockwood.”

Cora dramatically unfolded the menu and pretended to read it, voice dripping with overdone seriousness.

“Cajun chicken salad? Chicken pasta? Jesus. This must be for people with weak taste buds. Do you guys even have ceviche? It’s not on the menu?”

Phew. Cora, you’re really in character, Angela laughed.

Trust fund or not, I’m not hanging around low-wage workers that long, Cora fired back, deadpan.

The laughter died down, but Angela’s face had gone completely pale, like she’d been slapped. Cora tilted her head.

“Angela? You okay? Did my joke suck that bad?”

“No, it’s not that…” Angela’s eyes flicked toward Cora’s back. “It’s… you’re not alone.”

Cora glanced over her shoulder.

A chill ran down her spine.

Tristan stood there in a Chatsworth Reapers hoodie, one hand wrapped tightly around a hockey stick wrapped in tape, eyes locked on her with open amusement.

Cora’s stomach dropped.

“Shit.”