It’s just… Noah Andersson is hot and maybe Blake is allowed to notice that.
#
“Summer went by fast, didn’t it?” Noah says as he plops down on a chair, dripping all over the place.
Blake hums in agreement. His summer was shorter than he was used to from his first two seasons, but he’s excited to get back to playing, too.
“I mean, I would have obviously preferred it even shorter, but…” Noah shrugs. “There’s always next season.”
Blake nods. “You guys have been good.”
“High praise from the Calder Cup champion.”
“You make it sound like I’m the only one.”
“Aren’t you?” Noah asks and Blake gives him a shove. “No, but seriously, they wouldn’t have made it without you. You were a beast. I hope they don’t put you in goal against us next season, I’m already quaking in my boots.”
Blake huffs at him, although he is cautiously excited for next season. He re-signed with the Knights, got a pretty good pay raise out of it, and was told that he’d have a chance of backing up Mattie in Newark next season if he performed well during training camp. He’s ready for it, confident that he can compete on the level they need him on.
Mattie is expecting him at his house tomorrow. Blake called him to ask if he was coming to Brammer’s party and Mattie laughed at him for a full minute before he went dead-silent and eventually said, “No.” When he looks around, Blake does realize that most of the guys at the party have played less than ten seasons, don’t have kids at home, and can easily spend an entire day at a pool party because they don’t have any other obligations.
Noah gets them another round of drinks. They’re sweet and you can barely taste the alcohol in them, but Blake starts to feel them eventually, his cheeks turning hot despite their spot in the shade. Two girls, friends of Brammer’s girlfriend, join them when Brammer shows up with enough pizza to feed three entire hockey teams, and start asking them about their teams. Noah does most of the talking, which Blake is grateful for, and listens to him as he tells a story about when they filled their goalie’s trunk up with pucks last season.
Blake lets out a pained groan at the thought and Noah laughs and claps him on the back, his hand lingering for a moment, fingers warm against his skin. He still feels it after Noah has pulled his hand away.
Blake shakes it off by taking another sip of his drink, which doesn’t help at all, only makes his face even hotter. He must look like a tomato sitting here and probably has a bit of a sunburn on his face and shoulders as well.
One of the girls keeps shooting him looks even as Noah talks and Blake has had to deal with this long enough to know that there’s some interest there. He doesn’t want to be rude, but also keeps himself from smiling back at her, because he doesn’t want to give her the wrong idea. He keeps his eyes on his drink, and on Noah as he talks, and eventually excuses himself to find the bathroom.
When he returns, it’s just Noah, handing him another drink as he sits down.
“Weren’t feeling it, huh?” Noah asks.
“I… what?”
“Aw, come on, don’t tell me you didn’t notice. She was basically undressing you with her eyes. Not that there’s a lot left to undress, but you know what I mean.”
Again, Blake’s face goes red and he wishes he could stop it somehow. It’s more about Noah’s eyes on him, slowly traveling down his naked torso and less about the girl who couldn’t take her eyes off him. And of course Noah doesn’t know it, but Blake does and it’s mortifying.
He wants someone’s hands on him so badly.
He takes another sip and resigns himself to getting stupidly drunk, because he doesn’t usually drink much during the season and he deserves one last party and, maybe just this once, he can allow himself to cope with being in the closet the unhealthy way.
“You seeing anyone?” Noah asks.
“No, it’s not that…” Blake shrugs, at a loss. “I’m not really in a good place to be in a relationship right now.”
Noah laughs. “Pretty sure that she would have gone for something less permanent, too.”
Blake shrugs again. Takes another sip of his drink. And then nearly drops it when he sees a familiar face on the other side of the pool.
#
Elliot wasn’t going to let Adam drag him to a party out on Long Island a few days before the start of training camp, but Adam’s girlfriend is out of town – he took her to the airport this afternoon – and he didn’t want to go alone, so he was nagging at Elliot until he caved. “You don’t have to drink,” Adam said as they left their apartment. “You can just eat the food and have a good time and hop in the pool and… I don’t know.”
It wasn’t until they were almost there that Adam mentioned that they were on their way to Johnny Brammer’s house.
“Johnny Brammer who plays for the Knights? That Johnny Brammer?”
“I’ve known him for ages,” Adam says. “He’s been throwing that party for like… the past three years, I think? I was gonna take you last year, remember? And then you pretended that you had a mysterious illness.”
Elliot laughs, because he does remember that. He isn’t much of a party person, likes hanging out with the guys, but not at clubs. Bars are mostly okay, although he always felt bad when he got into places before he was twenty-one, because he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. “Seriously, though, we’re going into enemy territory. You should have warned me.” He’s wearing a Ravens baseball hat that he’s probably going to leave in the car.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Bram usually invites guys from other teams. I think Riley said he was going. Bunch of Mariners are gonna be there, too.”
“That’s just asking for trouble.”
“Nah, the boys can behave, it’s not even the preseason yet.”
Elliot decides to trust Adam on that; he’s been to that party before after all.
They’re greeted by a heavily inebriated Johnny Brammer who shouts at a fellow Jersey Knight to hand them drinks. Elliot does know most of the guys at the party, sees Riley talking to a blonde girl in the kitchen. He waves at them when he sees them, but all it takes is a shared look with Adam for them to decide that they’re not saying hello right now.
The doors at the back of the kitchen are open, leading them out onto a terrace where people are lounging on beach chairs, eating pizza, drinking, laughing, and there’s people in the pool, throwing a ball back and forth. A guy Elliot doesn’t recognize is floating around on a slowly deflating unicorn.
Adam has already finished his drink, so Elliot hands over his own, because he didn’t really want it in the first place and takes a bottle of water from a nearby table. When he looks around, Adam has disappeared and Elliot is stranded by the pool. He’s never had much trouble getting to know new people, but he hasn’t shaken off the feeling of being in enemy territory, so for a moment he stands there by himself, not sure where to go next.
Elliot’s eyes wander across the crowd gathered around the pool and eventually settle on Blake, who is sitting on a beach chair next to the Mariners’ Noah Andersson, who’s laughing at something Blake just said. Elliot didn’t even know those two knew each other, but he has to admit that he knows very little about Blake in general these days.
They text sometimes, never much, and even less this summer, after Blake won the Calder Cup. Elliot assumes that he’s embarrassed and wants to tell him that it’s fine, that he gets it, that he has nothing to be embarrassed about. Maybe today’s not the best day for that, though.
Blake, of course, immediately catches him staring, and before Elliot can disappear, Andersson catches him looking as well and waves and now Elliot has to head over there to say hello. Anything else would be rude.
“Hi,” Elliot says.
Blake looks at him for a long moment before he nods at him and says, “Hey.”
“Hey, what’s up,” Noah says and nods at an empty chair. “Have a seat. I’m Noah. Andersson.”
“I know,” Ellio
t says. “Sorry.” He doesn’t even know why he’s apologizing, probably because he’s been mostly looking at Blake and only spared Noah the briefest of glances.
“You guys know each other, yeah?” Noah asks. “OHL?”
Blake nods.
“Cool,” Noah says and pulls a pizza carton off a table next to them. “Want some?”
“Thanks,” Elliot says. He takes a slice and lets Noah carry the conversation, mostly about off-season training and Elliot chimes in here and there, talking about his and Adam’s trainer, who’s been torturing them all summer.
Blake is quiet, but that’s hardly surprising. He’s never been much of a talker, especially when there was someone else around who didn’t mind doing the talking and that clearly hasn’t changed. He looks different, though. Broader somehow, tattoos covering his arms, and his hair longer, falling down to his shoulders, disheveled, and it’s a good look on him. Elliot has seen pictures of him, has even seen him in person throughout the season, and yet Elliot is surprised that Blake isn’t the exact same person he was three years ago. Sitting next to him like this, like they’re old friends who happened to come across each other at the same party, seems wrong somehow.
“How do you know Brammer?” Blake eventually asks.
“Oh, I don’t, really,” Elliot says. “Adam’s girlfriend’s out of town and I’m… a mediocre replacement, I guess.”
“I’m sure you’re…” Noah trails off with a grin. “Sorry, I gotta go say hi to someone. I’ll see you guys around.”
Elliot only nods, his eyes settling on Blake, who looks like he wants to bolt. He fights down the urge to ask Blake if he’s okay and instead says, “How was your summer?”
“Good,” Blake says. “How about you?”
“Also good,” Elliot replies. “I went to Sweden for Magnus’s wedding and it was… Have you ever been?”
“No. Liked it, huh?”
Elliot nods.
“Did you swing by Iceland while you were in the general area?”
“I wouldn’t say that Iceland is in the general area,” Elliot says with a laugh.
Blake’s lips twitch, like that was his plan all along, making Elliot laugh. The thought pulls at something in him, so he tries desperately not to think at all.
“So Iceland’s still on the list?” Blake asks.
“Yep, still on the list.”
Elliot doesn’t really remember that conversation, only remembers being on the road, sharing a room with Blake, curled up in Blake’s bed instead of his own, mumbling nonsense between kisses and one of those things was, “I want to go to Iceland.”
Blake promised he’d go with him. They obviously never went. Blake shifts in his seat, restless.
Elliot would bet that they’re going to exchange about two or three more pleasantries and then Blake will find a reason to escape from him.
“Excited for the season?” Blake asks.
“Yeah, it’ll be good to get back on the ice.”
“Tell Evan I said hi if you see him.”
Again, Elliot can’t help but laugh, because of course Blake is telling him to say hi to his brother. “Sure.”
With the straightest, most offended face, Blake says, “Can’t be assed to call me. Like, ever. Little shit.”
Elliot grins.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go, uh…” Blake nods at the house. “Find a bathroom.”
He walks away, pulling a shirt that’s presumably his off a different chair on his way into the house.
Elliot is still smiling for some reason, maybe because Blake looks more grown up but hasn’t changed so much after all, maybe because they had an actual conversation that wasn’t horribly awkward.
He grabs another slice of pizza and leans back. He’s almost glad that Adam convinced him to tag along.
#
Elliot finds Blake a while later when the sun has almost set and Brammer’s girlfriend has started lighting candles and torches around the pool. The crowd has thinned a little and some of the partygoers have wandered down to the beach. Elliot sincerely hopes that no one’s going to go swimming.
After Adam introduces him to some friends, Elliot wanders back outside, watches the waves, then notices Blake sitting on a low stone wall, down the hill behind the pool, his shoes behind him, feet in the sand. He looks up when Elliot approaches and tucks a strand of dark hair behind his ear, eyeing Elliot like he’s contemplating if he should walk away and drown himself in the ocean.
“Hey,” Elliot says. “Can I sit?”
“Sure.”
Elliot clambers onto the stone wall and realizes he’s way too close to Blake, but now it’s probably too late to scoot away, so he stays where he is, with a mere inch between them. It’s gotten so dark that he can barely see Blake’s face, the only light coming from the house behind them, a little further up the hill.
Again, Elliot keeps himself from asking Blake if he’s okay. Instead, he says, “Congrats on the contract.” He sent exactly that to Blake when he signed that contract, but he can’t think of anything else to say.
“Thanks,” Blake says. “You, uh… Yours is pretty good, too.”
Elliot laughs. “Yeah, pretty good.”
“Ravens are treating you well?”
“They’re a good group of guys,” Elliot says and now he sounds like he’s talking to the media. “I like playing with them. I never felt like I didn’t belong, you know?”
Blake hums.
“How’s your grandma doing?” Elliot asks.
“She’s okay. Worse than a nutritionist, though. Her sister showed her how to use Google, so she put together a meal plan for the summer and she got really serious about it.”
A snort escapes Elliot and Blake elbows him in the side.
“Not funny,” Blake grumbles. “I just wanted some cookies.”
Elliot pats Blake’s back, because that’s what he does when he’s around friends and Blake freezes, goes rigid and Elliot pulls his hand away quickly, resolving to leave it in his lap.
“Guess I’ll have to make my own cookies,” Blake mutters.
Elliot assumes that Blake’s relationship with his grandma isn’t at all like the one Elliot has with his own, because Blake’s grandma practically raised him, with his parents not being around anymore. Blake never talked about it much and Elliot didn’t ask, because it would have felt much too personal, like he was prying, but it must have been hard for him.
This time, Elliot doesn’t manage to keep the words from slipping out. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Blake asks, no emotion whatsoever in his voice.
“It’s… When you called me that night, you sounded like… I don’t know. I just wanted to ask.”
A moment of silence, then Blake says, “When I called you?”
“After you won the Cup.”
“After I won the…” Blake takes a deep breath. “I called you. I’m sorry. I was really drunk and I… I don’t even remember calling you.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Elliot shrugs, tries to laugh it off. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Blake says again.
“Really, it wasn’t… It’s okay.”
“Okay.”
“Just, if you ever need someone to talk or anything…” Elliot trails off. They’ve barely talked at all recently, so maybe this offer rings hollow, but he doesn’t want Blake to think that he doesn’t care either. “We’re still friends.”
“Yeah,” Blake says. “Thank you.”
Elliot nods, not even sure if Blake can see it in the dark.
“Do I want to know what I said to you on the phone?” Blake asks, voice low.
“It was… You know, I barely understood half of it, you were really, really drunk, but it kinda sounded like you… needed a friend. I don’t know.” Again, Elliot shrugs, wondering how much he should tell him. Blake was probably having a rough night, and when you’re drunk everything seems like the worst thing in the world at a certain stage.
Blake doesn’t say anything, but then he’s closer all of a sudden, his arm pressed against Elliot’s, solid and warm, and it could be an accident, just him shifting, but then he doesn’t pull away.
“I…” Blake doesn’t finish, never does, but his pinkie knocks against Elliot’s wrist.
Elliot knows this move, but he can’t do this right now, so he pulls his hand away and says, “Blake.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry, it’s okay. It’s okay. But… I’m seeing someone, so I can’t… It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Oh,” Blake says. The warmth disappears and that inch between them is back within a second. “You’re seeing someone?”
“Yeah, Natalie, she’s… my girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Blake says again.
It’s been three years, so Elliot probably doesn’t have to worry about hurting Blake by telling him this. It’s not like they were together. They were… something else. Something undefined, something unfinished. Still, he wishes he could see Blake’s face right now, to be sure. “We can talk about this stuff, right?” Elliot eventually asks.
“Yeah, of course we can,” Blake says. His voice doesn’t waver.
“You’re not seeing anyone?”
Blake huffs. “No.” And he makes it sound like it should be obvious, and maybe it is. Elliot doesn’t know what it’s like for Blake, if he’s even told anyone, or if he’s hiding it. He thinks about the night Blake called him, telling him that he needed to talk to someone who knew, someone who could even remotely understand how lonely he is.
“I know it’s hard,” Elliot says.
“Oh, do you know that it’s hard, huh?” There’s something vicious in the way Blake says it and it’s not something Elliot is used to at all. Blake has always been gentle with him, always so patient.
Elliot bristles, involuntarily, at the implication of it. “What are you trying to say?” he hisses, fighting to keep his voice low, because even though no one’s close enough to hear what they’re saying, they’re not alone out here. “That I have it easier somehow, because I like women, too?”
“Well, things seem to be working out fine for you,” Blake says.
“Fuck that,” Elliot says and stands up, because he doesn’t want to sit next to him anymore all of a sudden. “Do you think if I had it that fucking easy, I would be–” He stops himself before he says something he’s going to regret. Like, if he had it that fucking easy, would he be with anyone other than Blake? If they could have been together, wouldn’t he– Elliot takes a deep breath. No need to go down that road. Blake never really had feelings for him anyway, it was just convenient for both of them, and it was good while it lasted, but maybe Elliot caught himself wishing that it didn’t have to end every now and then in the course of the last three years.
Three Is The Luckiest Number Page 5