Power Plays & Straight A's

by Eden Finley

Instead, my thoughts keep straying to Foster and how he kissed me. It makes me lightheaded, though that could simply be because all the blood is running south. I’m tempted to seek him out, but I’m not sure where things stand after last night, and seeing him again while I’m in this state wouldn’t be my best idea. I wasn’t lying when I told Ray I wanted to be prepared.

  Make it last.

  I shiver but refuse to think too deeply about the words. There’s a long time for things to change, and I will not give up my TA position to be with him. No matter how tempting he is, or how hard his shoulders are, or how soft his lips are …

  Porn. Right.

  My stupid hands are shaking again as I swipe my way into Albany Hall, and I blush as I pass people on the way to the elevator. I’m convinced they know the filthy thoughts taking over my mind, but I can’t seem to make them stop. All it takes is a quick flash of Foster grinding on top of me and I have to bite my lip to get my dick to calm down.

  I don’t even make it so far as porn. As soon as my door is locked behind me, I fall back into it, take myself out, and it’s over in an embarrassingly short time. When I wash my hands, I can barely look myself in the eye. I’m appalled at how quickly I lose myself over him. He said himself that he’d been with a lot of people, so if anything ever happens between us, I have a lot to live up to.

  As for him, well, he only needs to look at me sideways and I’m panting.

  Dear god, research don’t fail me now.

  I grab my laptop, and after hesitating a moment between my desk and the bed, I finally settle on the bed. Might as well get comfortable.

  It’s not like I’ve never done this before, but porn is usually reserved for when I’m so needy I can ignore the terrible dialogue and weird sounds.

  “Ooh yeah, baby, like that—”

  I cringe and quickly click across to the next video. Nope, too hairy. Room too dirty. The next guy has glasses like mine which are definitely not sexy—Foster took mine off last night for a reason—and in the next … could he really not take the time to wash his feet first?

  This isn’t working. I start to laugh into my cupped hands as the rhythmic sound of slapping and grunting jolts from my laptop speakers. Maybe I shouldn’t have relieved myself first? I test out that theory by remembering Foster lying right here on top of me, and my dick automatically twitches.

  Okay, jerking off isn’t the issue.

  I glance at the search bar and start typing before I’ve even fully formed the thought.

  Hockey player.

  There is a wealth of choices. Of course there is, because I’m beginning to suspect hockey is the sexiest sport on earth. I find one with both men in full uniform up against lockers in a locker room.

  Yes, please.

  It’s not hard to imagine the black and orange uniforms as navy and silver, and there’s no preamble as the guy behind enters the one in front. My dick finally takes interest. Instead of the two of them, I’m picturing Foster behind me while I lean into the locker wearing his jersey.

  I mean, I’m assuming he’d be behind me. The thought of me taking control of sex with him makes me ridiculously uncomfortable. I want Foster to hold me tight and pant in my ear and get completely lost in my body.

  “Fuck …” I mutter, shoving my hand down my pants.

  There’s no discernable talking but one of them is muttering under his breath, which possibly makes it hotter. It’s like these two don’t care the camera’s there because they’re too involved in each other.

  The guy behind turns the other man’s face to kiss him and speeds up his thrusts. My limbs start to tingle, and I quickly shove down my pants, ready for round two. But as the laptop slips away and my eyes fall closed, I’m reliving the suffocating way Foster kissed me and how it made me feel needed. I groan, and my cock starts to pulse as I come again.

  The high fades away, and I feel fractionally more accomplished this time around. Surely, that was at least double the time.

  Oh. The hockey players are still going at it. I check the time on the video with my clean hand and discover it’s only seven minutes in.

  Pfft. Who wants to have sex for seven minutes anyway?

  Foster, probably. And okay, maybe I’d enjoy it too. Definitely. I’d definitely enjoy it too, and now that I’ve completed that little experiment, I have to face the facts.

  I need sex.

  And I want it to be with Foster.

  With a sigh, I close the porn site, grab a tissue to clean off, and open a web search.

  How to have sex.

  I realize my mistake a second after I hit search when diagrams and illustrations of vaginas fill the screen.

  Oops. Revise.

  How to have gay sex.

  17

  Foster

  I’d like to say overhearing Zach is a virgin doesn’t change anything. But … I think it does.

  It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Zach. Holy shit, do I ever. I know I could make it good for him. I’d take care of him and be gentle, and I wouldn’t push him into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. But it’s a lot of pressure. Pressure I can’t really afford to add on top of everything else.

  Grades.

  Hockey.

  The NHL.

  Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder if I made the right choice not entering the draft last year so I could get my degree first. While I’m great at hockey and I believe it’s my calling, the game is unpredictable. I could injure myself tomorrow, and it would all be over. Even if I managed to get in a few years playing professionally, it could all go away overnight, and I’d have nothing to fall back on.

  It’s why my parents and I decided to wait until after I get my degree before I become a free agent and try to get picked up by a team.

  And speaking of agents, I don’t even have one yet.

  I’ve had a couple approach me, but I’m waiting for the right one.

  That’s what I should be focused on right now. Hockey. It’s always been hockey. Always. It’s why my semi-relationship things haven’t worked out in the past—because I can’t put anyone before the NHL.

  Especially not this year.

  I have to do the right thing and step back.

  Then class on Monday morning happens. Suddenly, all those prioritizing thoughts about hockey and agents and my future send up a big white flag.

  Because one look at Zach as he enters the room wearing his glasses, baggy jeans, and an Avenger’s T-shirt, and I realize I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m not scared.

  But Zach scares me shitless.

  I like him, and I don’t know when that happened.

  Though it shouldn’t be a surprise. My brother told me he’s off-limits, and I ignored him.

  Seth and I don’t have that type of relationship. We always have each other’s backs no matter what.

  Except when it comes to his best friend.

  I threw a game for Zach and didn’t care. I’ve been suspended from the very game I claim is my everything, and I. Don’t. Care.

  Because Zach is … I don’t know what he is.

  He’s someone who deserves to be cherished.

  I like that he doesn’t understand people but tries to. I love when he blurts out something most people wouldn’t dream of saying and then blushes like crazy.

  And, even though it’s a lot of pressure, I like that he’s inexperienced.

  I want to be the first and only one to make him come. I want to worship his lithe body and pepper it with kisses, tasting every inch of his skin.

  Fuck, I really should not be thinking about that right now.

  I shift in my seat, and as if Zach’s in tune with my every move, his eyes meet mine.

  I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking about. His cheeks pinken, and I wonder if he’s thinking the exact same thing.

  He avoids eye contact more than usual which is saying a lot.

  As much as I’d love to corner him after class and drag him back to my room like some sor
t of caveman, ultimately, it’s up to him if we go any further.

  When class ends, I anticipate him slipping away through the side door again, so I rush out of the room and cut him off as he leaves.

  “It’s cute you think that’ll work more than once.”

  He slumps. “Should’ve known.”

  I adjust my backpack on my shoulder. “So, I did some reading yesterday.”

  He stares at me. “Umm … congratulations?”

  I laugh. “I found out some very interesting things about TAs and what happens if there’s a conflict of interest.”

  A few days ago, I wouldn’t have read into his paling skin and the way he averts his gaze as he swallows hard. I would’ve put it down to being one of Zach’s quirks. Now, I know he’s nervous. “What was it?”

  “If you tell the professor the problem, they should be able to work around it. It’s up to them to decide what to do. Turns out they’re pretty lax on the fucking thing if you’re honest about it.”

  Zach tries to cover a wince.

  I step closer. “But it’s entirely up to you if you want to go there.”

  His gaze flicks to mine. “I … I—”

  “You don’t need to make a decision right now. If you ever did want to take that next step, I’m all for it. But I won’t pressure you, and I’d never make you do something you don’t want to do.”

  I don’t want to flat-out tell him I overheard him, but I need him to understand that I mean every word coming out of my mouth.

  He licks his bottom lip.

  “Think about it.” I lean in and whisper, “Just know I’ll make it good for you.”

  I force myself to walk away before I offer to take him right here and now.

  I think I scared Zach off. And maybe I was a little too forward.

  Is tact something you can learn? I might need some of that.

  Nuance 101. I’d take that class.

  By Thursday, I’m ready to turn up on his doorstep and ask him, but I promised myself I wouldn’t push. My laundry is piling up, so I make the decision to go home to wash my clothes so my weekend is open in case a certain nerd decides he’s free.

  Only, when I get home and push my way through the door, I find my brother in front of the TV.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He lifts his head and looks at me. “Could ask you the same.”

  I hold up my bag of laundry.

  “You’re gonna have to wait in line. Mine’s in there right now.” He waves a finger between us. “Weird voodoo twin thing.”

  “If we want to get technical, the deal was you do my laundry if I watch out for Zach …”

  “That was a one-time deal.”

  “Was it? I don’t recall a timeframe. Maybe I meant forever.”

  “Maybe I meant to do this.” My brother flips me off.

  “Nice.” I throw myself on the couch next to him and try to ignore the weird energy between us.

  He’s watching some National Geographic show about snow leopards. It’s boring as fuck, but I don’t ask him to change it. I kinda feel like I don’t have a right to ask my brother for favors right now.

  “How’s Zach?” he eventually asks. “I haven’t heard from him since the game.”

  At least I’m not the only one Zach’s avoiding.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since Monday.”

  “What did you do?”

  I huff. “I didn’t do anything. Well, not really. I might’ve told him I wanted to fuck him. Maybe.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Seth mutters.

  “Well, it was more eloquent than that.” Not by much, but still. “But I haven’t seen him since. Or spoken to him. Or messaged him. You’re his best friend. What does it mean when he goes radio silent?”

  Seth points at me. “This. Right here. This is why I didn’t want you two getting involved with each other. I refuse to be in the middle of you two and that includes giving advice on either one of you. I’m Switzerland.”

  “Did you know Switzerland wasn’t completely neutral? They allowed Nazis to transport Jews through the country on their train lines.”

  My brother’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t know you knew stuff.”

  “I know lots of things. I don’t know why people think I’m dumb because I play sports.”

  “Wow, hot jock and brains. No wonder Dad’s so proud.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Has he said something?”

  Seth grunts. “No. No more than the usual anyway. If I do well this year, I’m all set to graduate top of my class with basically my choice of grad schools, but all Dad can talk about is how his hothead of a son blew the most important hockey game of the season.”

  “The season hasn’t even started yet! It was a stupid game that’s gotten too big over the years. People think it’s important when it’s not. Everyone needs to let it go. I have.”

  “Well, yeah, I already play second fiddle to you with Dad. I’m not going to do it with Zach.”

  “You can give advice while staying out of it, you know. I don’t know how to read Zach. You do.”

  Seth pauses. “It’s either one of two things: you scared him off and now he’s hiding, or he’s legit too busy studying and being Zach. He might not realize three days have passed or that you even exist in the same universe anymore.”

  “That … doesn’t help at all. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He goes back to watching his documentary, and I think that’s that, but nope. About five minutes later, he turns the TV off and swivels on the couch to face me.

  “Why him?” There’s something in his tone. I can’t tell if it’s anger, resentment, or he plain can’t understand it. “You could literally have anyone on your campus. Why my best friend?”

  “In queer terms, your best friend is hot.”

  Seth folds his arms and scowls.

  “I always thought he was cute, but you told me I wasn’t allowed to go there, so I didn’t. It was easy when I barely ever saw him. Then you asked me to look out for him, and it turns out I like him. I think he’s funny, and not in a making fun of him way. In a genuine way. His outlook on life is different, and he doesn’t even try to fit in. He doesn’t care.”

  “Hmm, it makes sense you’d admire that side of him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Dad forced us both into skates when we were seven, do you remember how sucky we both were? I gave up almost immediately, but you … it was like you forced yourself to learn how to do it so you’d be more accepted.”

  I want to dispute that, but it’s probably the truth. I’ve worked hard, so fucking hard, to get to where I am, and it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t a natural skater.

  And maybe, just maybe, back when we were that young I knew I was different. I knew I liked boys more than girls, and I still hadn’t completely figured it out seven years later when I came out to my brother. But I did know I was different. And that hockey players were cool.

  “That might have something to do with it,” I admit.

  “What do you actually want with him?”

  I open my mouth to say something inappropriately sexual, but he stops me.

  “And I don’t mean physically. I mean … what kind of future do you honestly see with him? When you get signed to the NHL, you could be sent to California. Or Texas.”

  “Or Boston. Montreal isn’t that far at all.”

  “But you can’t sit there and tell me if they offered you a contract with, say, Seattle, that you wouldn’t take it.”

  “Of course I’d take it.”

  “Even if you were in a relationship with Zach in Vermont?”

  “Well, I haven’t thought about it that hard. The NHL is a long way off. Are you saying I shouldn’t be happy now because of something that may or may not happen next year?”

  “Is temporary happiness worth hurting Zach in the long run?”

  Ugh. I don’t know.

  “I know you’re u
sed to living in the moment,” Seth says, “but Zach doesn’t think that way. He needs to be sure of something before he’ll go for it.”

  “So, you’re saying I need to give him time.”

  “No. I’m saying you should walk away now before it all gets fucked up.”

  “Okay, real talk.” I turn to him, wanting to let him know this isn’t a game without giving away that I’m developing actual feelings. “I’m interested in Zach. I don’t know what the future holds, and right now, I’m talking about going on a few dates with him. I’m not planning marriage or a serious relationship or even the L word, so I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s more than fucking around, but I’m not going to make unrealistic promises either. I’m telling you this because even though you don’t like it, I’m doing it. I know you asked me to stay away, and this breaks all forms of bro-code, but I need you to know upfront that I’m going for it because I won’t go behind your back. I’d really like to have your support and not have this come between us as brothers.”

  I’m breathless after vomiting that all over him.

  All he does is stare me down, and I refuse to look away.

  He breaks first. “If you hurt him, I’ll hurt you.”

  I grin and reach over to ruffle his hair. “Sure you will.”

  “I’m serious, Foster.”

  I lose the act. “If I hurt him, I’ll give you a free shot.”

  “Deal.”

  18

  Zach

  My TA job isn’t rocket science. I book appointments for Professor Lawrence, meet with students who need help, take notes during class, and fantasize about Foster. All. Damn. Day.

  I’ve poured myself into work and thesis research so I don’t have time to think about Foster’s suggestion that we have sex, yet it keeps cropping up, and I keep chickening out of having a conversation with Professor Lawrence. Being Foster’s TA was my last excuse, and if I eliminate that … I shiver. It’s going to be clear to Foster how inexperienced I am because, while watching porn shows me what goes where, it doesn’t specifically show me my role in it all. Or how I’m supposed to perform that role.