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Brendon

I stare at the back of my best friend as he leaves me alone with this girl in our room. Does he think I want to be alone with her? I barely remember her despite her showing me pictures that she took on her phone at the bar last night. While I had been drunk, I wasn’t blackout. She just didn’t make it past short-term memory.

Unlike the kiss I had with Paul when we got back.

This girl, Nikki, seems nice enough, kind of intense, but I don’t want to be in here with her.

“Is your roommate always like that?” she asks once the door is closed behind him.

“What do you mean? Like what?”

“Quiet? Standoffish? Anti-social?” There’s a judgey tone in her voice I don’t like.

“He’s not any of those things.” I shake my head and struggle not to get defensive. “He’s just trying to work.”

I settle back on the bed and face the TV, but I’m not paying attention. My head is spinning with what Paul is doing, where he really went, what is he thinking? I pop my knuckles and circle my wrists, pop my elbows and my neck. All nervous habits when I can’t get up and pace or tap my foot.

“Are you okay?” Nikki asks, putting her hand on my knee. I stop fidgeting and stare at it for a minute. I am a big fan of human touch, but this feels off.

“Uh yeah, I’m okay.” Don’t be a dick. Don’t hurt her feelings. Don’t give her a reason to be angry or cry or something.

“The game doesn’t seem to be holding your attention . . .” Her voice drops to a sultry tone, and my gut tightens. No, no, no.

“I need to shit.” The words blurt out of my mouth so fast even I’m surprised by them. Nikki jerks back, and I climb off the bed, heading for the bathroom. Once the door is closed and locked, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Paul.

MENACE: What the actual fuck, man? Why did you leave?

P DADDY: I’m trying to study and having people there is distracting.

MENACE: So get rid of her! I don’t want her here either!

P DADDY: I hope she isn’t reading over your shoulder . . .

MENACE: I’m in the bathroom. I told her I had to shit.

I cover my mouth to keep my laugh quiet. I swear I can see Paul’s expression, snorting at the excuse.

P DADDY: I’m at the library. Text Preston, he’s a dick. He’ll get rid of her.

Oh, that’s a damn good idea.

I pull up Preston’s messages and send him a message.

OILER: Yo, big man, I need you to get a girl out of my dorm.

P DAWG: So tell her to leave?

OILER: But that’s mean! You do it.

I’m pretty sure I can hear him sigh from here, but I don’t have to wait long before I hear the door open and Preston’s voice.

“Time to go.”

I open the bathroom door, and Nikki’s eyes flick to mine, wide and intimidated by Preston.

“Sorry, we’ve got hockey shit to do.” I try to look like I feel bad, but I don’t know how successful I am.

She stands and looks between us a few times before the look on her face changes to understanding.

“Oh, okay.” The smile on her face says she knows something. “I get it.” She winks and reaches out to touch me as she gets closer, but Preston growls, and she pulls her hand back. “Possessive, got it.”

“We can talk later.” She winks at me, then leaves.

“Thanks, man.” I pat Preston’s arm, and he grabs my wrist.

“Touch me again, I’ll break your fingers.”

I nod, and he releases me. Jeremy’s laugh sounds from the hallway, and I smile.

“What’s the deal with Curly Sue?” Jeremy appears in the doorway, leaning against it.

“I guess I flirted with her or something at the bar last night? I don’t know. She’s been blowing up my phone all day. Then invited herself over. Paul abandoned me, the ass.” I huff and drop onto my bed.

Jeremy and Preston share a look I can’t decipher before turning back to me.

“And why wouldn’t you get rid of her yourself?” Jeremy asks.

“Telling her to leave would be rude,” I scoff.

“Right. Of course. Silly me.” Jeremy shakes his head, and Paul shows up, looking between us, then comes inside.

“Your puck bunny gone then?” He nods to me and drops his backpack on the floor.

I throw an empty water bottle from the floor at him. “She’s not my anything.”

“The way she was making googly eyes at you says differently.” Paul toes off his shoes and sits on his bed.

“Pretty sure she thinks he’s fucking me,” Preston deadpans.

“Wait, what?” I turn to Preston, extremely confused. “Why?”

Paul and Jeremy crack up while I wait for an explanation.

“The way she looked between us then said ‘ oh ’ was a dead giveaway.”

Well shit.

“I guess it could be worse. Maybe this means she’ll leave me alone.” I shrug and hope that’s the case.

My phone pings with a Snapchat notification, and I groan as I see her name.

* * *

I’m still awake when the alarm goes off at five a.m. Today is going to suck ass.

Am I the only one of us who can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to have Paul against me? How badly I wanted him to kiss me? Once he got back from the library, he acted like everything was normal. What the fuck is that? He didn’t ask if I wanted to watch something before bed. Didn’t touch me at all. Does he regret it?

I sit up and swing my legs over to stand up. Turning off the blaring dive alarm of a submarine that Paul sleeps through every morning, I shake my head at him and pull the blanket off him. I swear he could sleep through a nuclear war.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles into his pillow.

At least one of us slept, I guess.

“Time for the gym. Let’s go.” I flick the lights on because I’m a dick and find workout clothes. Working out is the last thing I want to do right now. Eat. I want to eat. Bury my uncertainty in carbs.

Paul bitches and moans but gets up and stumbles into the bathroom for a piss, then gets dressed.

“Why the fuck are you so awake?” He rubs his eyes and glares at me.

I shrug and grab a water bottle, seriously thinking about filling it with vodka. “I dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

“Hmph” is the only response I get from him before we head out into the hallway with the rest of the team.

When we get to the gym, someone is already there on the treadmill. Since there are so many sports teams that need to use the space, we have scheduled times. But this big bastard is here anyway, like he is every damn day.

Jeremy sighs behind me, muttering “Show off” as he pushes past me to start stretching. Carmichael has obviously been here a while, which we’re all used to at this point. The dude is fucking crazy about his workouts and never hesitates to tell each and every one of us how we’re failing. Daily.

We all stretch while the thump-thump of Carmichael’s feet on the treadmill hangs in the air. Everyone ignores him since no one wants to be his first victim of the day. Some guys joke, some put earbuds in, whatever we need to do to focus.

The team moves toward the treadmills and ellipticals for warmup when Coach comes in. The gruff, former NHL player is new this year, and while he’s definitely a hardass, he’s fair.

For the entire hour and a half we spend in the gym, Carmichael says nothing, but a few times I saw him look toward Jeremy and me and smirk before turning back to whatever he was doing. It’s making me nervous.

We leave sweaty and red-faced, Jeremy and Paul with me as we head to the dining hall for breakfast.

“I hope there’s cinnamon rolls. I’m fucking starving.” I push past Paul to hit the line first.

“Less carbs, sugar, and butter would make you a better player,” Carmichael says behind us.

“Having that stick removed from your ass would make you a better teammate,” I toss back.

“Being friendly is not on my priority list.”

I grab two cinnamon rolls just because he’s being a dick and shove one in my mouth while I stare at him. I groan around the sweet bread and smirk when the muscle in his jaw jumps. Carpenter steps out of line behind Preston, and when he turns to see me, his face flushes bright red, and his eyes get as big as saucers, then hustles away toward the tables. That’s weird.

“Your poor choices affect all of us when it makes you a shitty player.” Preston’s holier-than-thou tone makes me want to touch him just to rile him up.

I flip him the bird and scan my meal card at the counter, then find a table. Paul follows after me with his scrambled eggs and oatmeal.

“You know you’re just encouraging him to fuck with you, right?” Paul says.

“Fuck him.”

Paul snorts, “Pretty sure Jeremy has that handled.”

I snap my gaze to his while he tries to hide a smile.

“What?” he asks, and I burst out laughing.

I drop my head back on my shoulders with an overexaggerated groan. “Preston is as much fun as a broken stick stuck in the mud.” I pick at my food, regretting my decision but refusing the back down now that I’ve made a stand. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to laugh or smile.”

“Maybe Jeremy has a degradation kink,” Paul says so casually I choke on my food and start coughing.

“I—uh.” I shake my head and try to think back to the times we’ve hooked up. “Okay, that’s a solid maybe.”

Paul looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Interesting. What about you?”

Unease has heat crawling up my neck. “What about me?”

“Do you like to be degraded?” The air around Paul shifts, and suddenly, he’s looking at me like he did in the locker room when he was in his suit. It makes me want to beg, but I have never begged for sex. Not ever.

“Um.” I clear the clog from my throat. “I’m not really sure.”

“No?” Paul leans in until his breath brushes my cheek. “Are you a needy little cock slut?” My body tenses, and my cock starts to thicken under the table. “Or maybe you’re a good little cock sucker? Hmm? Do you need some praise with your degradation?”

Goose bumps break out along my skin on a shudder, my eyes are too wide, and my face is hot when I turn to look at him.

He winks at me with a knowing smile on his lips and sits back in his chair. The bastard. What is he playing at?

No one has ever talked to me like that. Jeremy isn’t a dirty talker, and most of my other hookups were either quickies in a bathroom or with chicks. I’ve never considered some kind of talking kink for myself, but I know I’m going to be thinking about those words every time I jack off from here on out.

Does he really think that of me, though? I guess it’s not really wrong. I use sex as a way to feel connected, to feel like I’m enough.

A lump forms in my throat, and I drop my gaze back to my plate. I’m not really hungry anymore, and now that the idea is in my head, my leg starts bouncing. Fuck. I’m such a mess.

He’s not going to want to deal with my bullshit. Maybe I should just be abstinent.

I check the time on my phone and stand up. “I gotta take a shower and head to class, later.”

I can feel Paul’s eyes on me as I dump my tray and leave, but I don’t turn around. Nothing makes sense right now, and I know if I look at him, all I’ll want to do is crawl into his lap and have him play with my hair. I can’t be needy.

* * *

By the time I get back to the dorm after classes and practice, I’m exhausted. I’ve showered, and the second I step into our room, I kick off my shoes and face-plant onto my bed. I don’t want to be alone. I desperately want to be pressed against Paul, but I force myself to stand on my own. Wrapping my blanket around myself tightly, I face the wall. I wish I wasn’t so fucking weak. That I didn’t crave the comfort of physical touch. I hate that I need reassurance from the people around me that they don’t hate me.

Tears burn my eyes, and I don’t try to hold them in. There’s no soul-altering sobs racking my body, just the sting of anxiety-fueled desperation pricking at my heart to drip down my face and dampen my pillow. Pain leaving a mark on the fabric that will be washed away like it never existed. If only the internal scars could be washed away as easily.

The door opens as I’m on the edge of falling asleep. I’m aware of Paul moving around the room, but I’m not awake enough to have a conversation or track his movements. My bed dips behind me, and I open my eyes, turning to see Paul sitting against my headboard with his laptop on his legs.

He looks at me for a second, then goes back to what he was doing. I scoot over a little to give him more room, and he takes it. His legs against my back are comforting. It’s the reassurance I needed but didn’t have to ask for.

“Did you eat dinner?” Paul’s voice is quiet.

“Mmhmm.”

Paul runs his fingers through my hair, and like a light switch, I’m out.