Page 29 of Drop the Gloves

They didn’t talk about it.

As the team loaded onto the bus for their trip to San Francisco the next morning, Evan watched Barczyk. There was no sign that anything had happened; he was the same as always, and didn’t act any different when he grabbed Evan’s arm and made him sit next to him.

“Missed you at breakfast,” Barczyk said. “Most important meal of the day.”

Evan had skipped breakfast, but not on purpose.

When he’d gotten back to his room, he’d spent the next hour thinking about what had happened in Barczyk’s room over and over and over until he’d gotten hard again.

He’d jerked off, reliving the whole thing, and then passed out.

For once in his life, he’d slept so soundly, he’d missed his alarm.

It was only Dalton banging on his door to check on him that had woken him up in time to join the team.

“I overslept,” he grumbled. “I had to grab some fruit from the lobby on my way out.” He held up a banana and an apple as proof, like he needed to show he hadn’t been avoiding Barczyk.

“Hmmm,” Barczyk hummed. “Slept good, huh? You should do whatever you did last night again. Make sure you’re well-rested.”

The bus engine whirring to life saved him from having to answer.

Tablets were passed around with their video to review of the Bay Area Brawlers, and Evan found it a minor miracle he could focus on the tiny screen after Barczyk stretched out and laid his leg over Evan’s.

It was a good sort of problem, though. He preferred this small acknowledgement that things had shifted between them.

Anything was better than Barczyk sitting with someone else, leaving Evan desperate and lonely and distracted.

Yeah, because having company in my desperation is such an improvement.

“Number 35 is an agitator,” Barczyk said, half to himself as he replayed a video. “You leave him to me.”

Evan’s heart fluttered in his chest. Yes. This was definitely better.

* * *

They were supposed to arrive a full day and a half ahead of their game, but traffic had them getting into their hotel late.

Coach Jack seemed harried by the delay, his plans for a team lunch ruined because they’d missed their reservations.

He stood in front of the bus, taking off his Riveters cap and running a hand through his hair.

“No curfew tonight, boys,” he said in resignation, like it pained him to make this concession. “Be responsible. I don’t need a repeat of Portland.”

Everyone whooped and cheered. They had the good sense not to make their plans too loudly, instead escaping the bus before Coach Jack could change his mind and disappearing into their rooms to conspire via text.

Evan ignored his phone altogether while he settled in.

They’d be arguing for the next hour, and he’d rather wait to get the final decision than try to follow along as everyone bickered.

There’d be a dozen suggestions, factions forming as the more energetic begged for a trip to clubs while the older crowd looked for fancy steakhouses or cigar clubs.

Ultimately, they’d agree on a bar within walking distance of the hotel and break off from there.

Evan wasn’t sure how much he was up for tonight.

He never had much social battery, and he was wondering how best to weasel out of the more mentally taxing plans when someone knocked on his hotel room door.

He froze in the bathroom, his toiletry bag clutched to his chest. Had he told anyone his room number? Who’d seen him go into his room?

Was it Barczyk?

Another knock. Slowly, Evan put down the bag and walked to the door. He looked out the peephole and was relieved to see Dalton on the other side.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked as he opened the door.

“There’s a mini-golf place down the street.” Dalton’s eyes were bright. “They’ve still got a half hour before they close for the night. You in?”

Evan relaxed muscles he hadn’t known he was clenching. “Really? That’d be—” He frowned. “I don’t wanna keep you from whatever else is going on.”

Dalton snorted. “You haven’t been reading the texts? Everyone’s busy showering or hanging out at the hotel bar for now. C’mon, we gotta be quick, or they won’t let us on the course.”

Not about to turn down a chance for mini-golf, Evan grabbed his card key and followed Dalton to the elevator. “Thanks, man. I hadn’t even thought of looking up a place. I appreciate it.”

“No worries. I’m not looking to drink much tonight. Besides, don’t thank me. Thank Barzy.”

Evan stopped short and recovered just before the elevator door closed on him. “Barzy?” he asked as neutrally as possible. He didn’t think he could handle Barczyk’s innuendos in front of Dalton. “He’s coming along?”

“Nah.” The elevator doors opened, and Dalton started walking out of the hotel and down the street. “He found the place and said I should take you, but he got roped into some pool tournament once they found out there were tables in the hotel game room.”

Disappointment curdled in his gut, but Evan ignored it. Mini-golf was supposed to be about restoring his equilibrium, and being around Barczyk did the exact opposite.

They got their putters and started the course.

Only ten holes, but it should be enough to do the job.

Evan shed his baggage and fell into the game, assessing each hole and making his plan.

The course wasn’t the best maintained in the world, and it was pretty standard except for one hole that had a weird bump along the main path.

As they started the final stretch, Evan felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Against his better judgment, he took it out.

Barczyk

What’s your room number

Evan looked up. Dalton had just missed a jump, and the ball had rolled back to the start. He had some time.

Abernathy

419

Why?

Barczyk

How far along is your mini-golf game?

Abernathy

We’ve got three holes left. Why?

Barczyk

Go back to your room after you guys are done

Text me when you’re back there k?

Abernathy

Why???

Barczyk

It’s a surprise

“Five,” Dalton grumbled, and Evan fumbled with his phone like he’d been caught watching porn or something.

“Huh?”

“Five strokes. You’ve got the scorecard, right? Try not to embarrass me with a hole in one or something.”

Evan didn’t get a hole in one. He couldn’t even make par the last few holes, his head on backwards with the prospect of Barczyk in his room tonight.

Whatever Barczyk had planned, it wasn’t going to be an innocent surprise.

He didn’t think there’d ever be anything innocent about them hanging out alone again, even if they never did anything.

The feel of Barczyk’s dick in his hand was branded in his brain.

Sure, put them in a hockey game, and he could probably forget it, but just the two of them alone with a bed. ..

“You wanna go again?” Dalton offered when he added up the scores. “You didn’t do great.”

Evan shook his head. He’d made par for the course, but only because he’d done well through the first few holes to balance out the way he bombed the end. More mini-golf would just illustrate how out of it he was. The last thing he needed was Dalton getting suspicious.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I just need to lie down for a bit.”

“Yeah, traffic today blew. People always complain about Pittsburgh traffic, but it’s nothing compared to other cities.”

They walked back to the hotel, Dalton babbling about his girlfriend and the brewery a bunch of them were going to check out tonight and how he thought they’d do against the Brawlers. It was the perfect background noise, familiar and requiring little of him, while Evan’s mind wandered.

Not that it ever wandered farther than Room 419.

“I’m gonna get changed,” Dalton said when he dropped Evan off at his room. “I can swing by in a bit to grab you before I head out if you want.”

“Sure,” Evan said without paying attention. He was too busy opening up his text messages.

Abernathy

Back

You plan on going out with the guys later?

A small icon appeared to show Barczyk had read his messages, but there was no indication that he was typing a response, so Evan tossed his phone aside and collapsed face first onto his bed.

What was he doing? This was so dumb. If they were caught, there’d be such a mess, the least of which was explaining that he was straight and had this strange Barczyk-exception he couldn’t begin to explain.

He might’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, there was a knock at the door. Evan jolted off the bed, head groggy, and stumbled towards the door.

“Look, Dalty,” he said as he opened the door. “I don’t think I should—“

Barczyk pushed into the room. Not only did he close the door, but he put the privacy latch up.

“Barczyk.” Maybe he was still asleep. “What’re you—?” He was cut off by a kiss that tasted of salt and tequila. Dream or not, Evan didn’t much care and had just relaxed into the kiss when Barczyk pulled away. “Wha—?”

And then Barczyk dropped to his knees, and Evan figured out what was next right as Barczyk kissed his crotch. Evan’s cock had woken up before he had, because it jerked towards Barczyk’s mouth and grew thick in record time.

“Surprise,” Barczyk said as he worked his mouth over the bulge in Evan’s shorts. Fuck, that was a good look for Barczyk.

“Surprise,” he echoed, a hand coming up to rest on the back of Barczyk’s head. “Good surprise.”

Barczyk laughed and looked up at him. “Ain’t it, though?

” He kept his gaze locked with Evan’s as he ran his hands up and down Evan’s thighs.

His face was right next to Evan’s dick, close enough that Evan just needed to shift a few inches to rub himself against Barczyk’s cheek. The fucking tease didn’t move though.

“Yes,” Evan admitted and swallowed, his mouth dry. Then, “Your mustache is gone.” It wasn’t completely true. The outline of his mustache was darker than the rest of his stubble, but the ends had been trimmed. In a day or two, it’d be impossible to tell he’d had a mustache at all.