David hadn’t thought of the possibility of meeting Jake’s family when he gave Jake permission to tell them. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.
“I—” David says.
“Just think about it,” Jake says. David doesn’t need to. He already knows his answer.
*
Jake drives him in on their last day of camp. David said he could take a cab, considering they were going to be opponents, but Jake had scoffed at that, and David didn’t bother insisting. It isn’t a real game anyway.
It feels more like a real game when David’s team loses it 5-2, three of the goals against by Jake’s line — his linemates don’t appear to be slackers — but David tries not to dwell on it. He takes his time showering, hoping by the time he’s ready he’ll no longer resent Jake for the win. He doesn’t want their last night together to be spoiled by a game that doesn’t even matter.
“Finally,” Caldwell says when David comes out of the showers. “Took your sweet time.”
“Um,” David says.
“Alright boys,” Caldwell says, clapping. “We’ve got a back room reserved at the Bier Markt for both teams. First round for everyone’s on me, since you fuckers couldn’t beat Majors’ team for me. I know some of you are travelling tomorrow, so don’t feel obligated, but it’d be good to see you there. If not — saves me some cash.”
u coming out? Jake’s texted David by the time he gets dressed, which David supposes means Jake is. He tries to push down the disappointment, texts, I don’t really feel like it., and hopes Jake will change his mind.
sore loser :P, Jake sends, which David scowls at, then, ok i wont stay out long then. let u no when im heading back and u can cum over? if u want
David hopes it won’t be like the All-Star Game in Pittsburgh, Jake out half the night, because David refuses to get a ride over to Jake’s in the middle of the night when he has a flight tomorrow afternoon. Jake’s supposed to drive back to Detroit tomorrow too, but then, that didn’t stop him from going to a party the night before camp. Honestly, David should just stay at his hotel, get an early night. He’s not at Jake’s beck and call.
David takes a cab back to the hotel, re-packs his suitcase, sets his alarm for the next morning. He should eat dinner, but he doesn’t particularly feel like room service, feels like eating in the hotel restaurant even less. And it’d be rude to eat if Jake is going to be back soon.
He’s probably going to be out for hours. It’s stupid to wait.
David flips through channels, checks his phone. Nothing from Jake, but then, he shouldn’t expect there to be. He goes and takes another shower, a proper one, so he won’t have to take one in the morning. Check out is at ten. He wonders if Jake remembers that. Well, it’s irrelevant if David’s sleeping here.
k had my 1 showed my face leavin now, is waiting on his phone when he gets out, then, sent ten minutes later, home! u comin by, rite? u eat yet?
David bites his lip, texts, On my way soon., and makes sure his luggage is ready by the door for tomorrow morning before he changes into fresh clothes, packs a set for tomorrow, and leaves his room without bothering to dry his hair. The doorman hails a taxi for him, and his hair’s still curling damply around his face when he buzzes Jake’s intercom. He hopes Jake doesn’t notice, interpret that as — whatever it is, probably.
“Door’s open,” Jake calls when he knocks, which doesn’t seem particularly safe, but then, he knew David was coming.
“You didn’t tell me if you ate so I ordered stuff anyway,” Jake says. “I’ll have it for lunch tomorrow if you’re not hungry.”
“I haven’t eaten,” David says, wonders if that’s saying something too, like he was sitting around, waiting for Jake. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be there awhile.”
“Just did the one drink to be polite thing,” Jake says. “I’d rather hang out with you.”
David doesn’t know why he’s flustered by that. That’s what they’ve been doing almost every day. Jake told his family about David. And this is the thing that flusters him.
Jake reaches out, curves his palm over David’s hot cheek. “I got stuff from that health-freak Greek place you like, hope you’re not sick of it yet.”
“No,” David says. “No, that sounds good.”
*
David wakes up to the bed sinking beside him, a hand running through his hair. He manages to squint one eye open reluctantly before they flutter shut when Jake leans down to kiss him. He tastes like the peppermint toothpaste he likes, and David pulls away, self-conscious of his own morning breath.
“Morning,” Jake says, kissing his shoulder instead. “Your check out’s at ten, right?”
“Yeah,” David mumbles.
“Kay, it’s eight-thirty, so probably time to wake up if you want time for a shower and breakfast before you head out?” Jake asks.
David sits up quickly. “I thought I set an alarm.”
“I turned it off,” Jake says. “It was way too early for that shit.”
David scowls at him.
“Dude,” Jake says with a bit of a laugh. “Your hotel’s not far at all, you definitely didn’t need to be up at six.”
“What if I needed to pack?” David asks.
“For four hours?” Jake says. “Plus, you’ve totally already packed, don’t lie.”
“What if there was traffic?” David asks.
“You could literally walk it and still make it in time,” Jake counters.
David feels rushed now. He doesn’t need to shower, at least, but he has to eat breakfast, and make sure he’s packed everything he’s left at Jake’s, and when he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror his hair is a tangled mess of loose curls from the air dry it had last night, so he’ll have to fix that, and there isn’t enough time for all of those things, a rush of tasks until they’re saying goodbye.
David makes toast while Jake showers, eats it over the counter while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing. While Jake shaves David brushes his teeth, wets his hair so he can dry it properly.
“I like it wavy,” Jake protests. “It looks pretty like that.”
Pretty is not what David is going for. He combs it carefully straight, adds just enough gel for it to hold.
“You better keep in touch, eh?” Jake says, meeting his eye in the mirror. “Like for real keep in touch this time.”
“What’s ‘for real’ keeping in touch?” David asks.
“Maybe answer my texts more?” Jake says.
“I answer your texts,” David protests. Most of the time, anyway. Always, if there’s a question, accompanied by a question mark or not.
“You’re the worst texter ever,” Jake says.
“Excuse me?” David says. He thinks that’s pretty rich from someone who doesn’t use proper grammar, punctuation, or spelling at any point.
“You know what I mean,” Jake says.
“I do not,” David says.
“Where’s your phone right now?” Jake asks.
“Your living room, I think?” David says. “Or maybe your room.”
“Where’s my phone right now?” Jake asks. David suspects it’s a rhetorical question, considering it’s sitting on the counter.
“On the counter,” David answers anyway.
“So if someone texts me, I know,” Jake says. “And then I can text back.”
“You get a lot more texts than I do,” David says. A staggering amount, honestly.
“Still,” Jake says. “If you have your phone with you, you can text back when I text you.”
“Fine, I’ll try to keep my phone with me,” David says.
“That’s all I ask,” Jake says. “Well like, and also answering my texts.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” David says.
“Was that a joke?” Jake says, poking David’s side. “Are you making jokes, David?”
“Stop,” David says, squirming away.
“Making jokes,” Jake repeats, like he’s ne
ver heard David make a joke before.
“I can make jokes,” David says.
“Sure you can,” Jake says, and kisses David’s frown.
There isn’t enough time once they’ve finished their morning routine. Well, once David has — Jake’s just in boxers and a t-shirt when he follows David into the front hall, hair damp, a nick on his chin dotted with toilet paper. He looks sleepy and unkempt and it’s all David can do to shoulder his overnight bag, shove his feet into his sneakers.
“Come here,” Jake says, and David lets Jake reel him in. He kisses David’s cheek, his jaw, his mouth when David turns toward him, catches his lips.
“Let me know when you get in?” Jake murmurs when he pulls away, still so close it’s a breath against David’s lips.
“Okay,” David says, fighting the urge to lean back in. He’s already cutting it close to check-out as it is.
“Okay,” Jake says, and David can’t resist leaning in for one more kiss before he goes.
*
David gets back to work. Not that he hadn’t worked during the camp, he had, it’s just —
It’s different. A more suitable routine, personalised for him. His trainer from last summer wasn’t available, but the replacement Dave arranged from him might be even better: professional, not chatty, very astute. He always seems to know when David’s reached his limit, sometimes even before David himself does, but he never stops David before that limit has been reached. David works hard, and he feels like he’s accomplished something at the end of every day, is becoming a stronger, faster, better player.
David is so bored.
Not during training — during training he focuses entirely on the tasks at hand, on being the best he can be, better than he was the day before, the month before, the year before. During training his mind is clear, attention only on his body, what it can do for him, what he wants it to do for him.
But then he goes home at night. He makes himself dinner, or orders in from one of the few places he’s found that can accommodate his restricted diet, nothing like the borderline unhealthy restaurants Jake would often suggest. He watches the news, or goes on the internet, or reads a biography or memoir of former NHL greats. He texts Jake more often than not, phone always at his side. He goes to bed early, and wakes up early, and does it all over again, dreading the days off his trainer has mandated, the long stretches of time yawning before him.
By mid-August David misses Jake so much he feels sick with it, the stream of texts and occasional call not even close to enough after the near constant presence of him in Toronto, the absence of him in New York.
If the invitation to Detroit is still open I can come this weekend., David texts Jake in a moment of weakness, up too late considering he has training early the next morning, hating his empty bed.
ttly open!!!!!!!!, is waiting for him in the morning, and he’s as anxious about it as he is relieved.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
David isn’t bored leading up to his trip to Detroit.
For one, he’s still training, and training’s never boring. But, unlike usual, he’s busy after training. He packs, then repacks, trying to anticipate what he’ll need. Clothing, of course, but he probably doesn’t need a suit. He checks the weather forecast. Shorts and t-shirts, then. A pair of pants and a sweater in case it’s cold at night.
It’s just for the weekend, so he shouldn’t bring more than a carry-on, especially because Jake’s already said he’d pick him up, and it’d be rude to make him wait while David collected his baggage. He goes out, buys travel sized toothpaste, shampoo, gel. In Toronto he just used Jake’s, before eventually bringing his own over from the hotel when he realised he’d be spending pretty much every night there. He doesn’t know if it’s rude to do that at the Lourdes’. Better safe than sorry.
He’s never slept over at someone’s house before. Well, he has: his grandmother’s, sometimes, when he was young. His nanny’s, on rare occasions, though more often, if both his parents were away, she slept in their spare room. Jake’s place in Toronto. This feels different. These are complete strangers, for all they’re Jake’s family.
David looks up articles on the etiquette for house guests. He packs a final time with them in mind. He can’t bring a bottle of wine on the plane, but maybe Jake will be okay with them stopping for one on the way. He’d know best which kind of wine they would like. If they even like wine. If they don’t like wine, he’s not sure what an acceptable substitute would be. Maybe he shouldn’t buy any at all; they’re still underage in the US.
David wishes there was someone he could ask about this, but Jake would tell him not to worry about it, that anything would be fine, the opposite of helpful, and there’s no one else, really. He’s certainly not going to bother Dave with those sorts of questions.
David sets his alarm early on Saturday, but he’s awake before it goes off, hours before he has to leave for the airport, let alone be there. He tries to keep busy, but mostly he’s just working himself up, wondering what will happen if they hate him. They’re important to Jake, so if they hate him, he’s not sure what Jake would do.
He tries to read on the plane, fails, spends most of the flight looking out the window, trying to avoid the elbow of the man in the middle seat. It seemed foolish to book business class for such a short flight, but he’s regretting it now.
He texts Jake when he lands, and Jake texts back, at arrivals!!!
David thinks that’s ill-advised, considering he must be high-profile here. Jake’s a local boy, and this is, after all, a city that brands itself Hockey Town, USA, but he can’t stop him now.
Jake waves wildly when David walks out, like David needs any help finding him, standing head and shoulders over everyone else. He reaches out as though he’s going to hug David when David walks over, so David holds a hand out before he can. There’s no way to know who’s watching, who recognises Jake, or David, or both of them. Jake looks amused, but he takes it, giving him a firm handshake.
“You ready to go?” Jake asks. David isn’t even close to ready, but he can’t exactly say that, so he nods.
“They’re really excited to meet you,” Jake says, once they’re in his car. David doesn’t know much about cars — he has no cause to, when he doesn’t even have a licence — but it’s an expensive one, he thinks, with a soft leather seat he sinks into, not the unassuming model he was using in Toronto.
“Great,” David says weakly.
“I’m nervous too,” Jake says, glancing over at him, but it’s hard to believe that when he looks the same as always.
David expected, considering how much is made of Jake being from Detroit, he’d be from, well, Detroit, but instead they drive to a suburb north of the city, Jake chatting the whole way, mostly telling David things about the family he’s about to meet, some things he’s already told David, some things he hasn’t. Jake’s sisters are coming for dinner that night. David hadn’t agreed to meeting Jake’s sisters, but it’s too late to balk now.
Finally they pull into a driveway of a house that’s nearly identical to the houses on either side of it. David thinks he sees a curtain flutter, like someone just looked out the window. His pulse kicks up without his permission.
“You okay?” Jake asks.
“Fine,” David says. He tries to swallow around the knot in his throat, fails, tries again.
“We can stay in the car as long as you want,” Jake says. “No hurry.”
“I’m fine,” David says, but he can’t make himself open the passenger door, and true to Jake’s word, he waits patiently as David tries to get his breathing under control, reaching out and putting a hand on the back of David’s neck after a minute. David is faintly annoyed that he finds it comforting. Jake always just — he always knows what to do. David wishes he knew what to do.
“Are you ready?” Jake asks after a long time, a too-long time, David knows, knows this isn’t normal, he’s not being normal, and Jake’s being more patient than he has to be, but eventuall
y his patience is going to give out, and —
“Okay,” David manages, and steels his expression the best he can just so Jake will stop looking at him like that, like he knows David’s lying.
“Okay,” he says, trying to mean it, and makes himself get out of the car. Jake slings David’s bag over his shoulder without asking, and David wants to insist he can carry it himself, but — of course he can. It’s a ten pound bag. Jake’s probably trying to be polite, or hospitable or something.
It isn’t just Jake’s parents waiting for him inside — and David means waiting, because the door opens before they even knock — but Jake’s sisters as well. David wasn’t expecting them right away; he thought he’d have until dinner, at least. He feels a little nauseated, a little lost. He knows a family of five isn’t that large, but it’s a lot of people to meet all at once. A lot of people he knows Jake cares about, people whose opinions Jake values. People who matter.
David shakes Jake’s father’s hand, endures a hug from his mother. He mumbles his name to four different people, wouldn’t be able to remember theirs if Jake hadn’t already told him. Jake’s sisters don’t try to hug him or shake his hand, and he doesn’t know if that’s a bad sign or not, but he’s grateful for it regardless.
“Jake, why don’t you take David’s bag up?” Jake’s father asks, and when Jake disappears up the stairs, it’s all David can do not to beg him not to leave him. He lets Jake’s mother steer him toward the living room in the meantime, sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch. Jake comes back quickly at least, takes the spot beside David, and David resists the urge to lean into him when he does. He would, if they were alone — when they watched TV or movies at Jake’s condo they’d overlap in more places than they didn’t — but it’s not appropriate in front of his parents.
He’s offered a drink, which reminds him he forgot to pick up the bottle of wine. He demurs, and when Jake and his father both trip over each other insisting, he asks for a glass of water, one Jake disappears to retrieve for him.
Jake’s parents ask him about his own parents, how he likes his team, how he liked the camp in Toronto. David knows they’re just being polite, that the questions aren’t meant to corner him, but none of the questions he’s asked have easy, palatable answers. He does his best to answer them in a way that doesn’t seem awkward. He doesn’t think his best is very good.
Coming in First Place (Between the Teeth Book 1) Page 16