by Eden Finley
“To support him? To sit with him and help cheer his team on? You should come with us.”
“I … don’t think so. No. I have too much to do.”
“Clearly. Because researching until you forget what day it is, is obviously part of your coursework.”
“Seth … I really am busy.”
“Next week’s game then. If you’re not there, I’ll have to sit with my parents.”
I laugh. “You were fine sitting with them all the other years I never went to hockey games.”
“That was before you had sex with my brother.”
“I have to go.” I huff, slamming my laptop closed and Seth wraps up the call. My dorm is too quiet, and I’m not hungry anymore.
I curse because all I’d wanted was to distract myself from thinking about Foster.
I’m not going to show up at his games like a stray puppy hoping for a scrap of his attention. I don’t want him to feel like he owes me anything. If we catch up again, it will be a mutual, friendly arrangement. But in all the years I’ve known him, Foster has been single mindedly focused on hockey, and even if by some strange reason he wanted more with me, he’d never risk what he’s worked toward for so long.
I’d never want him to.
We’d agreed to sex, not a relationship, and I’m perfectly happy with that decision.
Perfectly happy.
So happy, I reopen my laptop and get back to work.
23
Foster
Coach is punishing me. As if my one-game suspension isn’t mean enough, I swear it’s become his mission to run me so ragged, all I’m able to do after practice is go home and pass out.
I haven’t had time to think, let alone see Zach again, but I make sure to check in with him so he knows I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth. Even the breakfast dates I’d been squeezing in with him have been replaced by mandatory gym time, and while I don’t miss the disgusting cafeteria food, I do miss seeing Zach. More than I thought was possible.
After the team scored a hard-fought win in game one, which was painful to watch from the sidelines, we need to kick some serious ass in game two.
My first game of the season is finally here, and I’m determined to put the UVM game behind me and show them I’m a team player who is worthy of being captain. If I do, Coach might finally back off a bit.
I score a goal in the first four minutes of the game against New Hampshire, and from there it only gets better.
Being the first team to score always feels like an advantage. And normally, I wouldn’t care who it was who put the biscuit in the basket, but because it was me, I’m off to a good start toward proving myself.
On the ice, the only important things in my life are my team and getting the W.
That doesn’t mean when I’m off the ice I can’t glance around at the stands looking for a certain dark-haired, green-eyed nerd whose sex noises are ingrained in my mind.
But I don’t get long to search the stands before Coach calls for a line change, and I’m back in the game.
I’ve never had to compartmentalize hockey and someone I’m dating before. It’s always been easy to switch between my personal life and hockey life.
No one has filled my thoughts the way Zach does.
His message responses were short when they came at all. If I was the type of guy to read into things, I’d suspect he’s avoiding me, but I assume he’s been busy and lost track of time like Seth says he often does. I’d kicked myself when I accidentally slept through last week’s sports psych class because I was that exhausted. And when I haven’t been exhausted or at practice, I’ve been studying to catch up on other classes I’ve skipped.
Zach said he’d be at the game tonight with Seth, but I haven’t spotted them yet.
Right. Head in the game. Not on Zach.
Jacobs and I fly down the ice, passing the puck back and forth. I have the chance to take a shot, but Jacobs has a better angle. I sail the puck in his direction, and he shoots.
It moves like a bullet through the air, right by the goalie’s head, and the lamp lights up.
Like the overgrown, testosterone-filled, bulldozers we are, we throw our arms around each other to celebrate and almost fall over on our skates.
“Fuck yes!” I yell.
And then my eyes catch on him. Right there in the crowd, sitting next to my brother, is the cutest guy on campus.
I take my helmet and gloves off, running a hand through my sweaty hair, and give him a wink as I skate back to the team box.
My game only picks up from there. Not our game—mine.
It might be the whole caveman, look, I have skills thing. Only, unlike back in caveman days where they would do something productive like fish or make fire, I’m putting a six-ounce disc into a net.
I am man.
New Hampshire manages to get one past our goalie, but the game finishes at 4–1 in our favor, and the team is ecstatic.
“Celebration at McIntyre’s,” Beck yells as soon as we hit the locker room.
“I’m pretending I didn’t hear you invite underage kids to a bar, Beckett,” Coach says.
We all laugh except for Jacobs who likes to pretend Beck doesn’t exist.
“Good game. Hit the showers. And don’t get too wasted. Practice is at seven on Monday morning. You need to be recovered by then.”
Our coach is the best.
“We were fucking awesome out there,” Jacobs says.
“They got scored on more than your sister,” Cohen calls out.
Jacobs looks confused. “Who’s sister? I don’t have a sister.”
Cohen waves a hand. “Everyone’s sister.”
I laugh and shake my head.
We all shower and get dressed in our suits like the good little boys we are, and then I leave to try to find Zach and Seth to invite them out.
They’re outside the arena, and I curse that they’re with Mom and Dad. I want to kiss Zach hello. I want to wrap my arm around him.
Dad steps forward first to shake my hand. “Best playing I’ve seen you do.”
“T-thanks.”
My gaze goes to those green eyes I’ve missed these past two weeks, but Zach glances away.
“Good work, sweetie.” Mom kisses my cheek. “Go kill ’em. And whatever.”
I snort.
“The team is heading to McIntyre’s if you two want to come,” I say casually to Seth and Zach.
Zach goes to open his mouth, but Seth cuts him off.
“We’ll be there.”
“Cool. I’m gonna go ditch my bag in my dorm. See you there?”
“Sure thing.”
“Have fun,” Dad says.
Mom leans in. “Not too much fun. And remember to wrap it! Don’t want no college pregnancies, thank you very much.”
Zach starts choking on thin air.
“Thanks, Mom. For being so … mom-like. You can go home now.”
Seth’s trying to hold back his laughter.
As soon as our parents walk away, Seth can’t hold it in anymore.
“I totally didn’t think about how fun this whole thing could be with you two—”
Zach pulls on Seth’s arm. “We’ll see you at the bar!”
Okay, that was weird. I think. Was it weird, or is it just Zach being Zach? Our weekend was amazing, and I was sure by the end of it he’d reached a new level of comfort with me, but maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe the past two weeks when we haven’t been able to see each other reset any progress on that front.
By the time I get across campus to drop my bag off at my dorm and walk the fifteen minutes to the bar, the whole place is buzzing, and I can barely move through the crowd to get to my teammates.
I get back slaps and congratulations from a heap of people I don’t know, and it never gets old.
It might once I’ve been playing professionally for a few years, but right now, this is my moment—the team’s moment—and I love every second of it.
I quick
ly glance around the bar but can’t find Seth or Zach even though they should’ve beaten me here.
Finally, there’s a break in the crowd, and I reach the back where the team is.
“Here’s the man of the hour,” Jacobs yells and thrusts a drink into my hand.
“Thanks!” It’s so loud in here, I don’t know if he hears me.
“Where’s your man?”
“He said he’d be here.”
“I saw him before with your brother.” He looks over my head. “Somewhere.”
So he is here. “I’m gonna go find him.”
As much as I want to celebrate tonight, I also want Zach next to me when it happens.
With the season starting, my schedule is tighter than ever before, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to hang out with him when I know they’re going to be few and far between.
I do a few laps of the bar, but people try to pull me in a million different directions. They want to talk about the game, about my almost-hat-trick, and everything hockey.
It slows me down but doesn’t stop me from trying to find Zach and my brother. I eventually spot them in a dark corner.
Zach’s got his back to me, but Seth sees me coming and nods for Zach to turn around.
I wrap my arm around his waist. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he mouths. Maybe he actually speaks, but I can’t tell because the music is so loud.
I lean in. “Are you hiding from me or all the other people?”
He frowns. “What do you think?”
“I hope to fuck it’s everyone else.”
His lips form a thin line.
“Are we cool?”
He shrugs awkwardly out of my grip. “Of course. Go have fun and celebrate with your teammates.”
“Are you sure?”
“I already have a babysitter. Thanks.” He gestures to my brother.
“Why don’t you two come hang out with the team?”
“It’s okay. Really. We’re cool. Casual. Whatever.”
I’m confused. “O-okay. Will you be around later? I have the day off tomorrow for the first time in two weeks, and I was thinking—”
Zach nods. “Come find me.”
Leaving him feels wrong, but I do it because it’s obvious he wants space. Though after not seeing each other for a while, that can’t be a good sign, can it?
It’s possible he’s the unicorn of boyfriends who’ll let me do my thing. Not that we’re boyfriends yet, but I’m hoping it’s at least heading in that direction. In past relationships I’ve had—if you can call them that—my partners have hated this side of hockey. And in their defense, it’s not like I cared if they were at my games or with me at after parties.
No, that’s a new thing I only have with Zach.
I don’t understand why it matters except I like him. Really, really like him.
I go back to the team and do my thing, losing track of time easily. It gets late fast, and when I check my phone again, it’s almost two in the morning.
And as expected, when I go looking for Zach, both he and my brother are gone.
24
Zach
That didn’t go exactly as planned. I wanted to make sure Foster knew I wouldn’t smother him, so I’d tried to act completely chill. Relaxed. Aloof …
I might have overdone it on the aloof thing.
He’d said he was coming back, and like an idiot I’d believed him. Seth and I had waited into the early hours because somehow it had taken me that long to see it as the obligatory offer it was as much as Seth tried to claim otherwise.
In my defense, I struggle to think clearly in Foster’s presence. Combine that with the arm he had around me and last night was torture. After almost two weeks without contact, I was starting to fool myself into thinking I could move on, then the hockey game happened.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
He was amazing. The type of incredible talent everyone in the room is drawn to, and when he took off his helmet and dragged his fingers through his sweaty hair, then winked at me, I melted.
Who needs porn when you have images like that to get you through?
I head to the library early Sunday morning to try and refocus, but I give up when I realize it’s impossible. I think my brain is broken.
It’s starting to get colder out, and I wrap my arms around myself as I hurry back across campus.
My ringtone cuts through the quiet morning air.
“This is Zach.”
At first there’s only a heavy puff and then, “I missed you last night.”
I stop walking. “F-Foster?”
“Who the fuck else?”
“I-I, ah—”
“Where are you?”
“Heading back to my room.”
“Good, I’ll meet you there.”
The call ends, and I’m left staring at my phone. He’s coming over? Now? I desperately want to turn on my heel and flee back to the library. Except now I’m curious. I gave him space, an easy out, but now he’s coming to me.
Is this what usually happens? Is he mad? Why does he want to see me? Oh, is this … is this a booty call?
Please let it be a booty call.
I walk so quickly back to my dorm that I’m almost jogging, and I promise my poor lungs this is their cardio quota for the month.
My nerves are thrumming by the time I get back to my room and change into clean sweats and a T-shirt. My hair is a spikey mess, but I attempt to tame it anyway, combing my fingers through it again and again until it almost looks normal.
I don’t know why I bother, but even acknowledging that can’t make me stop.
I’m expecting him to call when he gets here, so the loud knock on my door makes me jump. How does he keep doing that?
Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. Maybe I need to climb under my covers and stay there forever instead. It’s the much safer option. It’s the smarter option.
I open the door anyway.
Foster lights up when he sees me, a wide smile stretching across the most attractive face I’ve ever seen. I can’t stop myself from smiling back.
“I gave you notice.” He eyes the partially closed door.
I step aside to let him in.
As soon as the door is closed, Foster grabs my arm and tugs me in for a hug. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my ear.
He … what? I pull back a little so I can see his face. “Are you here to have sex?”
Foster chokes on a laugh. “Do you want me to be?”
“I’m … confused.”
Foster releases me as I step away and sit on the side of my bed.
“What are you doing here?”
“What am I …” He glances around the room like he’s expecting clarification. “I wanted to see you. We’ve got an away game next weekend and these past two weeks have been—Zach, what’s going on?”
I curl my bare toes against the floorboards, not sure I can look at him. “I don’t know.” I really, really don’t. “We had our date, and it was great, but it was that one weekend, and now it’s over, so I assumed we were done.”
“Done?” He takes a step back. “Were you going to tell me that?”
“I thought you knew.”
“I’m not a fucking mind reader.” Is he … angry?
He turns, making for the door, and I’m more confused than ever.
“Can I ask a question?” I blurt.
“What?” He sounds pissed off but resigned.
“What are you …” I try to pinpoint the emotion. “Are you upset?”
“Holy shit,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You tell me, Mr. Psychologist. What is a guy supposed to feel when the person he likes tells him they’re done?”
I’ve never scrambled off my bed so fast. “You what?”
“What?”
“No, you what. What did you say? What does that mean?”
“That I like you?” Foster sounds confused.
“You like me?”
I frown, because has he? “We … never really established what this was, and then you were busy, and I thought maybe your texts were meant to blow me off without hurting my feelings.”
He laughs, and I’m relieved when his hard expression melts away. “You mean the ones I sent so you knew I was thinking of you even though my schedule is crazy right now?”
“Oh.” I shift my weight. “It’s possible I didn’t interpret them that way.”
“And after the hockey game when you blew me off? What was that about?”
“I didn’t want you to see me as an obligation or … or clingy.”
“Obligation? I wanted to hang out with you. Only you. Then when the team was finally done, I went to find you, but you were gone.”
“I waited. Apparently, not long enough.”
“Come here.” Foster pulls me into his arms again, and this time I’m able to relax. “Next time you start assuming what I want, promise you’ll check in first.”
“Next time?” I tilt my head back so I can see him properly. “So you’re saying this could be a … regular thing?”
“Very regular.”
I smile as I step back, arms still around his waist. “I promise. No more assumptions.”
“Well, you can make some. Like if you assume I’m up for sex, the answer will always be yes.”
“Always?”
“Same goes for kissing which we’ve already worked out. Blowjobs and handjobs are on the table.” He smothers me in his arms again, almost knocking me off-balance. “Cuddling. Hanging out.” His lips brush over my ear. “Anything that involves you and me. Naked. Clothed. I want it all.”
“What I’m hearing is, I should pack a bag.”
“For?”
“Your bed is bigger than mine.” I push onto my toes to nip his ear. “And we’re going to need the room for what you’ll be doing to me.”
Foster grabs my ass and rocks his half-hard cock into my hip. “You have two minutes. If you’re not done by then, I’m throwing you over my shoulder.”
“Your threats need some work.”
“Zach …”
“What?” I ask innocently, bending down to pick up my bag. “It’s difficult to move when I’m this hard.”