Changing on the Fly

by Cherylanne Corneille

  “It’s fine, Miles. You know this isn’t the first time in the history of professional hockey that a coach has had this conversation with a player, right?”

  Where were all these gay hockey players in the goddamned minor leagues?

  Afraid they won’t make it to the majors if they come out.

  The part of him that wanted to step up and be the spokesperson for gay hockey players everywhere suddenly got a little louder, but Nick was smart enough to know that would be a huge, life-altering decision, and he couldn’t just make it on the spot. Besides, this was his first professional team, and he was coming out to the coach and the other players…wasn’t that enough?

  “Not yet. But maybe. I just…need to see what happens.” Nick inhaled a slow breath and forced himself not to apologize for being gay. It was harder than it should be, and that was something he was determined to change.

  Coach Samuels said gruffly, “You have my support, Nick. I want you to know that.”

  Nick felt a sharp sting of tears at the back of his eyes and blinked at the ceiling to make them go away. “Thanks.”

  “Good.” Coach waved his hand. “Now, let’s finish this season out, and we’ll…talk about next season later. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Nick and shook his coach’s hand.

  ***

  AT DINNER THAT night, Nick told Everett about what happened that day in the locker room, and the meeting with their coach.

  Everett was quiet for a long time. He’d made the pasta again – he really only did know how to cook pasta and the morning-after pancakes, but Nick didn’t mind – and then he said, carefully, “Are you glad you did it?”

  Nick thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I couldn’t…it was just too hard.”

  “Why wasn’t it too hard before?”

  He knew Everett wasn’t trying to be a dick, but the question made Nick defensive. “What do you mean?”

  Everett wasn’t looking at him. He shrugged, hunching in on himself and eating the pasta like it was tasteless cardboard. “You played for a few years on an AHL team and never told them, that’s all I meant.”

  I wasn’t dating one of my teammates. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. I want to be part of this team, really be part of it. And besides,” he said, trying a smile, “I didn’t want Harry to keep throwing girls at me.”

  Everett snorted. “I get that.” He looked at Nick finally, his expression carefully guarded. He clearly wanted to say something and didn’t know how.

  Nick wasn’t the brightest guy in the world, but he knew Everett pretty well by now and figured out what it was. “I didn’t say anything about you. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I know.” Everett looked down at his plate, toying with the pasta and no longer pretending to eat it. “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “I mean we do hang out, though, so people might think things.” Nick felt a cold ball of worry settle in his stomach. He hadn’t thought about that. He too started messing with his food in lieu of eating it. “I hope it’s not a problem.”

  “It’s not.” Everett pushed his plate away. “I think I’m done.”

  For a moment, Nick wondered if he was talking about dinner or this thing with the two of them. He silently watched Everett clean up and put his unfinished pasta in a Tupperware container, noticing how dull the kitchen was with the one single window and the night beyond. He thought about the wall of windows in the house Everett had bought, bright and open, and wondered if he’d ever get to see it.

  ***

  NICK HAD ALMOST expected that Everett would want to sleep alone since he was in a weird mood, but he didn’t. He was all over Nick when Nick came out of the bathroom after having brushed his teeth, pushing him back against the wall and kissing him aggressively.

  Everett wasn’t always aggressive, and Nick had learned that he liked being pinned down and fucked, liked it from behind and on his knees. It messed with some of Nick’s admittedly silly pre-conceived ideas of the roles men took when having sex with each other, and while he was younger and bigger, physically, than Everett…he’d always assumed Everett would want to top, not bottom. Nick had been surprised at how much he liked holding Everett down, watching him dissolve into breathless gasps and sharp moans, biting the pillow sometimes to muffle his sounds as Nick fucked him hard.

  But he liked it when Everett fucked him, too, and that made him wonder what else he thought about being gay that wasn’t entirely true, but who the fuck was he supposed to talk to? He’d mentioned it to Everett one night, and Everett had laughed and kissed him, caught up in the good mood sex always put him in. “Nick, you do what you want and what feels good. That’s really the only rule.”

  In Nick’s limited experience, things were never that easy.

  Still, it was one of those nights he expected Everett to want to fuck him, and Nick shivered with anticipation as Everett pushed him roughly back toward the bed. But Everett didn’t want that, he sucked Nick until he was moaning and thrashing beneath him, cock wet and lying hard against his stomach, and said, “Fuck me.”

  Nick scrambled up and reached for the lube and the condoms, stashed in the bedside table. The table in his room was a mess, littered with receipts and gum wrappers and papers, the drawer full mostly of loose change. Everett’s was neat, everything in its place – even the condoms were in little stacks. Nick grabbed one and put it on, kissing Everett as he did so. He slicked his cock with the lube and went to kneel, then remembered what Everett had said about doing what he wanted and what felt good.

  So this time, he pushed Everett down flat on his back and crawled between his legs, grasping under Everett’s knees and lifting. Everett stared up at him, breathing hard, eyes blurry and mouth kiss-reddened. “What —” Everett trailed off as Nick slicked up his fingers, reaching down to tease at Everett’s hole.

  “I wanted to do it like this,” Nick said, unnecessarily. He didn’t say that he wanted to see Everett’s face as he fell apart, wanted to watch instead of just listen. “That okay?”

  For a half a second, Nick worried that Everett would say no. But, he didn’t. After that breathless pause, he nodded and relaxed back into the bed. “Yeah, of course.”

  There was a startling intimacy in fucking someone face-to-face. Nick had done other stuff, handjobs mostly, while kissing a guy or watching him come. But there was something different about sliding into someone else’s body, holding their legs up and open, fucking into them, and watching them the whole time. Everett’s eyes were closed, but his face was incredibly expressive, open – he gasped, bit his lip, and nonsense words tumbled unchecked from his mouth. Nick wanted to kiss him, but he also wanted to keep watching, and when Everett reached down and grabbed his cock, it almost made Nick come to see Everett stroking himself, hard and fast, like he was racing for orgasm.

  Nick shifted and put Everett’s calves on his shoulders, then reached down and knocked Everett’s hand away so he could stroke Everett off himself. Everett’s hand flailed around, and he found the lube, tossing it gracelessly to Nick, who managed to get some on his hand before wrapping his fingers tight around Everett’s dick.

  The rhythm was hard to find at first — thrust, stroke, thrust, stroke — but he got it, it fell into place and became muscle memory like so many hockey drills, only infinitely more enjoyable. Everett came first, face twisting up into an expression of pure pleasure that was beautiful because it was honest, his whole body flushed as his cock throbbed, and he came all over Nick’s hand and his own chest.

  The sight was one thing, feeling Everett around him like that was the end of it for Nick – he lost all that rhythm and fucked gracelessly, dimly aware of Everett dropping his legs to wrap them around Nick’s hips and pull him in closer. He buried his face in the crook of Everett’s shoulder, driving his cock with harsh, staccato thrusts, and coming with a low sound against the sweat-slicked skin of Everett’s neck.

  They lay next to each other as sweat cooled and hearts calmed, not saying an
ything. Everett turned at last to look at him, but instead of saying something, he just yawned.

  Nick slept with him that night, the two of them tangled up together on top of messy sheets.

  Chapter Ten

  THE PHILADELPHIA FOXES ended their season with a win over their rivals, the playoff-bound Pittsburgh Buccaneers. It was a meaningless loss for the Bucs, who were still pissy about it; therefore, the Foxes enjoyed every second of it. It was not a meaningless game for them, because it showed their fans that maybe next season they could expect more of the same – hard hits, goals, regulation wins – and even a trip to the playoffs.

  Nick’s teammates were aware he was gay, and there were a few who didn’t quite manage to meet his eyes when they talked, but he doubted it would even be an issue in the fall. Harry and Rems were their usual selves (though Harry took some delight in trying to find Nick a boyfriend, which always made Nick cringe and avoid looking anywhere near Everett), and Nick didn’t know if being out to the guys meant the slurs from his teammates would stop. They’d only had the one practice and then the game, so it was too soon to tell.

  With the end of the season came exit interviews, training plans, schedules, and goodbyes. It also brought the end of Nick and Everett’s tenure as roommates, as they both moved out of their townhouse into their respective new digs. Everett’s stuff arrived in a truck from Buffalo – Nick had packed all his belongings in his Focus. They helped each other move (which wasn’t that hard, in Nick’s case), bought furniture (which was), and ate pizza and cheesesteaks amidst all the boxes. Nick’s apartment was close to the arena, to nightlife, and to SEPTA, and Everett’s felt like a vacation away from all of it.

  It was in Everett’s new living room, in his comfortable furniture with his big-ass television, that they watched the playoffs. The Buffalo Knights made it to the second round, where they lost to the Buccaneers in a heartbreaking game seven overtime loss. He and Everett watched the whole thing with the sort of eagle-eyed focus only an athlete has with his sport – finding the minutia and the signs of fatigue that others might miss. Neither were surprised when the puck found the back of the net for the Bucs, and Everett stood up and took Nick’s empty beer bottle with his own. Nick quietly watched the post-game handshake on the television.

  “So,” Everett said at length. “That’s how it would have ended.”

  Nick nodded. He, too, wondered what it would have liked to have been on the ice for a game like that – even one that ended in a loss. It was the kind of game you talked about in your dotage, regardless of the outcome. “Guess so.” It was impossible to know that for sure, if the team might have won with Everett – and even Nick – on the ice. But he understood the reason behind Everett’s words, what it meant to be able to put this away and move on.

  Everett reached out and took the remote, switching off the television. He slowly drew his fingers through Nick’s hair, which was too long and desperately in need of a cut. Nick tipped his head and looked up at him, expectant.

  “It was worth it,” he said, softly, and Nick’s heart – already in danger of being lost – slipped away completely, given over to the man smiling down at him like he was better than the playoffs.

  “Only because they lost,” said Nick, and they both laughed.

  ***

  FOR ONCE IN his life, Nick had a clean apartment – but it was only because he spent all his time at Everett’s. He learned about Everett’s family, with whom he was not close, and his friends from college, with whom he was. A few of his college pals came for a visit, and Everett introduced Nick as his boyfriend, and if the guys and their assorted girlfriends and wives were surprised, no one said anything. They were friendly, and they liked him, teased Everett about Nick being a teammate, and put up with their hockey talk.

  Nick took Everett with him to the Miles family get-together in Thunder Bay, worried the entire time how it would be to bring someone along. Jacob teased him and said he was just as nervous when it he took Kristen the first time – it was almost the test to see if one’s significant other could fit in and pass muster. But the Miles family embraced Everett, and Everett fit in well: he loved talking hockey, he was helpful, and he was polite. And while Nick wouldn’t have said he was affectionate, he didn’t shy away from casual touches that were normal between couples, either. They didn’t fuck, but they were sleeping in a sleeper sofa in the living room of the family rental and had, by tacit agreement, declared that too weird. Besides, they were only there for a week.

  As they were packing up Everett’s Escalade for the drive back to Philly, Nick’s mom took him aside and kissed him on the cheek. “I like him a lot, Nicky,” she said, smiling. “Everyone does. Don’t worry.”

  Nick was worried about how much he liked Everett, and what would happen in a few short months when hockey came back and drew a line between them, one that neither of them knew how to cross, if they even wanted to. And that was part of what kept Nick awake at night, listening to Everett breathe in the dark. Did Everett want to cross it? Because Nick did, and it scared him to death.

  ***

  EVERETT HAD A calendar in his kitchen, a free thing he’d been given with some welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift basket or his utility bill, Nick wasn’t sure. He saw it every time he was there, watching Everett cook (he’d picked up a few new recipes) or having breakfast or grabbing a beer. Saw the inexorable progression of days that lead to the end of the summer, which brought back the responsibilities and the uncertainty.

  At the end of June, they went for a week’s vacation in the Dominican Republic and stayed in a suite overlooking the ocean. They went ziplining and other excursions during the day, drank at the pool bar at night, and fucked with the doors open so they could hear the sea as they fell asleep.

  On their last full day, they went for a walk on the beach at sunset, like any new couple caught up in the delights of first love. While they walked, they were quiet, having found an ease in each other’s company where it was comfortable instead of awkward. As they watched the sun dip down in the horizon, Nick was startled to feel Everett reach out and take his hand.

  They walked like that for a little while, holding hands on the beach while the sun went down. Nick thought about his first game in the NHL and wondered how it was this simple moment managed to dethrone it as the happiest of his life.

  That night, bolstered by their stroll on the beach and some very good rum, Nick told Everett he loved him. After Everett fucked him into the mattress so hard the headboard nearly fell on top of them, Everett said it back.

  Then they went back to the real world, and the calendar said July, and that was the end of their summer, the end of it being easy.

  Chapter Eleven

  NICK WAITED EVERY day for the talk he assumed they’d be having, the one where they discussed the necessity of faking it in front of the others. The one where they had to pretend to be teammates and good friends. But as summer lapsed into fall and the pre-season began, Everett said nothing about pretending and neither did Nick.

  Nick felt the uncomfortableness between himself and some of his teammates in the locker room, but he tried not to dwell on it. Harry and Rems treated him no different than ever, even after the “inclusivity training” that the Coach swore up and down was mandatory for all teams in the league this year. Nick spent the whole time slumped in his seat, red-faced with embarrassment every time they discussed anything having to do with LGBT issues, then making himself sit up straight because he wasn’t ashamed, he wasn’t.

  When they discussed the improper use of gay slurs as insults on the ice and the fines and suspensions that could result, Nick looked around the room to see if maybe, just maybe, his teammates were paying attention a little more than usual. But they were hockey players, athletes used to rigorous training and movement, and none of them liked sitting still. A few of them glanced over at him and winced as if they’d just now realized there were real people on the end of those insults.

  Nick thought sourly that while i
t was great his teammates might stop using homophobic language, it didn’t necessarily translate to every team in the NHL. They’d say the same thing his teammates would have said – that they didn’t know, they didn’t mean it. The only thing at the end of those words was anger, not people.

  The Foxes started out with the optimism of a shiny-new season, and when no one seemed to remark on Nick’s sexuality, things fell into a comfortable and familiar pattern. He’d never started a season with an NHL team, but he’d started hockey seasons every year of his life since he was four. Nick was used to it – the excitement, the anticipation, the desire to start off strong and establish a team identity that would carry them through the regular season and beyond.

  Everett was like a different person in the locker room this year, and everyone noticed. He was friendly, he smiled, he joked around, and hosted a party at his house because summer was lingering and his pool was heated. He played well with his line-mates in the pre-season, as did Nick, and there was no reason to think anything terrible would happen to bring everything to a screeching halt and make a mess out of the life Nick had worked so hard to have. Or at least, that’s what Nick kept telling himself.

  In mid-November, Nick walked into the locker room and found Everett and one of their teammates, Cam Thomas, having a heated discussion that looked half a second away from turning violent. Everett’s expression was dangerous, making him look like the sullen, angry man he’d been last season instead of the new-and-improved Sparrow – who finally had a nickname, “Birdie”, which he pretended to hate, but Nick knew he really liked – and making Nick’s stomach clench with sudden worry.