Page 7

Alex

“ C ome on, just do one shot with us!” Brad laughed, his hand slipping into mine as he led me toward the pool table. “It’ll be our first ever shot in this house!”

He hit me with his breath-taking smile, his dimple popping up, unhinging me completely. I gave in to him. He’d had three beers with some of our housemates before we left, and it always made his smiles brighter.

We’d just stepped into the after-party at one of the hockey houses, and he already knew where the fun was. Brad was like a scent hound; one whiff of a good time and he sped off on the hunt.

Bare skin-on-skin meant absolutely nothing to him, but nerves jumped and weaved around me as he wound his fingers around mine and I let him pull me through the stuffy crowd. I used to let him take me anywhere as long as he kept touching me, but now I was more restrained.

“Hey, not too fast,” I said, tugging on his hand. We were surrounded by our teammates, puck bunnies, and random people from other majors who’d come to cheer us on.

It was just a chaotic whirlpool of noise, with different music playing in each room, guys shouting, girls screaming, and laughter bubbling all around us. And it was easy to get disorientated and lose him, even when he held me so close.

The hockey houses all had four bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs, and the layout of each one was exactly the same. A large living area, two rooms off to the sides, a yard, a kitchen way too small for six burly guys, and too few toilets on top of that. Considering how late we’d arrived, most of the upstairs rooms were probably already locked.

I was supposed to leave our town and go straight to the Wranglers after our summer together, which turned into a disaster. I couldn’t look at Brad without a stab of rejection. But living two of the three months of summer without him was so insanely empty that I gave in to the thought which had been floating in my head since the Wranglers drafted me. Take a year off, attend Redhill U with Brad, and train with him and the college hockey team the entire year to make sure we could follow our dream together.

The Redhill Kites were one of the most prominent teams in the college leagues, and Brad was bound to get noticed playing for them.

Which also meant I could be with him for another year, all while feeling like I was trapped in my own skin because I still couldn’t tell him the truth.

So, I got into Redhill at the last minute, told Brad what I was doing, ignored all his protests, and now April had come too quickly. We had one month of hockey and classes left, and that was it.

“Alex! Seriously! It’s been too long!” Porter suddenly swung in from my left, wrapping an arm around my neck and dragging me to his chest as he burst out laughing.

Brad spun around the moment Porter caught me, refusing to let go of my hand, even though Porter was trying to steal me away.

Porter was our housemate from day one, along with his cousin Lance, and my bedroom sat directly across from his.

“I just saw you this morning.” I chuckled as I ducked, awkwardly extracting myself from his bony fingers, getting a face full of his gelled dark brown hair. He was a forward like Brad and me, and he was known for being slippery. I preferred playing with him rather than against him.

“Yeah, but you never come out with us at night.” He pouted. “You know I always miss you when I’m out partying.”

His laugh was completely infectious, and I grinned shyly back at him.

“You really don’t,” I said, noticing he was already peering over the shoulder as cheers erupted from the pool table.

Porter’s bright green gaze smoothed over me before he flicked a look to Brad and shrugged. “Anyway, I hear a beer with my name on it. Brad, you coming?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Give me two, yeah?”

“Sure. Don’t go full lovey-dovey. You’ll miss the real fun.” He shot us both a wink as he spotted Chase, one of our housemates, and bounded off like an excited puppy.

I watched him go, fiercely aware of Brad’s stare.

“What’s wrong? I can stay if you want?” he asked, blinking and completely missing what Porter had said. No matter how many times Porter dropped bombs, Brad never got hit.

He squeezed my hand to get my full attention.

The people at college were more accepting than people from our town, but it didn’t mean it was safe to come out. You never knew what people really thought.

I looked down at our hands and back up to the haze in Brad’s eyes, my mouth parting to blurt out whichever one of the million words that were threatening to break free.

It was just like our first party after high school, or our first college game, our first away game, or any other ‘perfect’ time I could have told him how I really felt. But, like always, whenever I opened my mouth to tell him I loved him, I balked.

It was as if someone had cursed me, and forbidden me to say the words. I usually would end up silently gaping at him until I found something else to say.

“Hey,” Brad said, stepping in close. His Old Spice scent suddenly surrounded me as he enveloped me in a bear hug.

“What’s up? You not feeling it tonight?” he asked, his breath sweeping my ear, his hard chest against mine, swaying slightly against me. With one arm around my neck, the other clasping my hand, his lips nearly brushing my throat like last summer, no wonder I was going crazy.

“Yeah.” I nodded, taking a chance to bury my face in his shoulder. I still had to lean down to get there, but it helped banish the thought of how easy it would be to kiss him. Even though there were loads of people around us, everyone was too wrapped up in their own fun to notice. And most people knew that Brad and I were close.

I was the only guy Brad treated like this, and I’d come to hate how special it made me feel.

“I think I’m just gonna hang back tonight. But I’ll still be around, yeah?” I said.

He slipped his hand from my calloused palm, pausing on the tips of my fingers.

The air stilled between us, a moment where the music faded into the next song, the chatters grew louder, covering the erratic beat of my heart. His chest expanded as he stared at me so intensely that everything inside me froze, vain hope capturing me for the tenth time today.

“Don’t go far, yeah?” he said, giving me his familiar lopsided grin. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

Happiness flooded through me, but I hated showing him how much it affected me. My feelings were easy to hide when everyone was sweating in the humid spring heat which crept into the house through open windows.

I took a chance and gripped his hand again, returning his squeeze.

“You know I’ll never leave you,” I reassured him, and his shoulders loosened.

I wanted to think he was nervous, but he usually acted like this because he was itching to go to our teammates, and he felt guilty about leaving me. “But I’m probably going to slip out soon. I just came for the clout,” I said.

“Sure, but don’t wait for me. I dunno if I’ll be back tonight.”

I nodded, and he shot me a last smile before he let go of my fingers. The gentle familiar hurt washed over me, and a stranger quickly filled the space he left. I couldn’t even dramatically watch him go with longing on my face because there were too many heads in the way.

I hadn’t been to this house before, but parties were all the same. Grab a cheap beer from the many packs spread on every surface, dodge the partiers, swerve around people making out, and secure a safe spot in neutral ground, like by a bookcase or a standing lamp. Then hang out just enough so that, when I left, people might have a vague recollection of me.

This time, I found a hideous, full-length tapestry in the living room, which was so painfully orange that people were actively avoiding it. The tapestry garnered all the attention, and none of it fell on me.

People only knew me as the guy who put off going to the NHL for a year, but I didn’t come out to parties unless it was a special occasion, like us making it to the semi-finals today.

There were a few people from my psychology classes here, so they would clock me at least.

Brad and I had to pick throwaway majors, as we were both going to leave the moment Brad got drafted. I went with psychology; he went with sports science.

I had a clear ten minutes of people watching, then I’d go to Brad, hang out with him for five whole minutes before making some excuse to leave.

I was nearly past the time limit, and I’d already prepared to sneak away. Until our eagle-eyed team captain entered the room.

The moment I saw him, my heart picked up. I glanced at the patio door on the other side of the crowd, looking for an escape. I was big enough to barge through groups of people if I needed to—I could get there in ten seconds if I really pushed. But as soon as I stepped away from the wall, he caught sight of me.

He perked up, peering over the other giant players dwarfing the room and lithe puck bunnies swarming around him as he made a beeline for me.

There was nowhere to run.

Before I could launch myself into the crowd, he’d weaved through the mesh of bodies and burst out onto the other side.

And ever so suddenly, Lance Austin, Porter’s cousin and unfortunately one of my closest friends, loomed in front of me. His arms folded, eyes narrowed, a look of success spread on his face.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” His voice boomed out, attracting the attention of every single person in a five-foot radius, and I instantly cringed.

People noticed Lance wherever he went, and it wasn’t just because of his powerful conventional handsomeness, which stunned anyone who wasn’t used to it. It was because of his overflowing gay aura that was completely irresistible to most. It radiated from him like a beacon, signaling anyone with even an inch of fluid sexuality who was vaguely interested in getting laid.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” I said as I moved away from him. Which was a mistake, as my back hit the wall.

At six-foot-four, I was almost the tallest guy on the freshman team, but Lance matched me eye to eye. It meant I didn’t get swamped by his fluffy sun-blond hair, but I was still subject to his crystal blue eyes that got him on the front of magazines. Being hockey royalty helped as well.

“Alex, my son,” he tutted, shaking his head. He unfolded his arms to clap me on both shoulders. “What have I said about being rude to your glorious leader?”

My brows lifted in a pointed stare. Lance cracked in two seconds, bursting into laughter, loud enough for people to edge closer, which was exactly what I wanted to avoid. He was like a magnet for the horny.

Lance had been on the fast-track to the NHL since he was born. Son of one of the NHL’s most famous players, he got his first offer at fourteen. None of us knew why he kept putting it off, and he was too noticeable to escape scrutiny like I did.

Though he never tried to avoid it. He lived for it, and he was a natural in the spotlight.

The only reason he’d come to Redhill was because his dad had poured so much money into the school that it would be a scandal if he went anywhere else.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Point taken. Anyway, you know what I’m going to say.”

“And I don’t want to hear it.” I sighed. It was why I was trying to escape in the first place.

“What?” he gasped in mock surprise. “You mean, you don’t want to hear the outline of the ingenious Brad 9.0?”

I instantly shot my hand out, slapping it over his mouth. “Are you serious?” I hissed, scanning the people around us. “Can you not?”

He stuck out his tongue, licking my palm, and I instantly yelped, shooting it right back. My scowl deepened as I rubbed his salvia off on my shirt.

“Please,” He scoffed. “These guys are so intensely heterosexual, they wouldn’t know I was gay if I slapped them across the face with my cock.”

“I don’t… Um…” I trailed off as my blush took over. “I don’t think that’s a qualification for gayness…”

“Come on, Alex. No one cares right now,” he said, leaning in, his voice dipping next to my ear with a sultry tone. “Apart from me. I care… I care very much.” His palm pressed against the wall next to my other ear as he caged me in. “And you’ll love this one, I promise.”

His breath swept over my ear, just like Brad’s earlier, but there was nothing there. Not even a single spark.

I was definitely one hundred percent gay, and Lance was hot enough to be offered modeling jobs the moment he stepped out onto the street, but he just didn’t do it for me.

No one did, except for Brad.

Lance figured out my feelings for Brad the instant we met. According to both Lance and Porter, it was glaringly obvious, but neither of them would ever spill my secret.

Instead, Lance spent most of our first year crafting ‘cunning plans’ to push me into confessing to Brad. Since I froze up like soon-to-be roadkill every time I even thought about sitting Brad down and trying to repeat the conversation I tried to have in the summer, I was amazed Lance still bothered.

I never told Lance the reason I wanted to throw up whenever I got even close to confessing was because of how Brad shut me down after he sucked me off. Or the words which split me open when I was the most vulnerable. They slammed into me whenever I remotely considered talking about it with anyone and shamed me into silence. Plus, my full awareness that I was probably the biggest idiot out of all the dumbasses on the team.

To be honest, I think it was just fun for Lance to watch me struggle.

The palm next to my ear became an arm over my shoulders as Lance hugged me tight.

“This is your last chance,” Lance hummed his argument. “Come on, let me be cupid one last time.” He smirked. “You don’t want to miss out on this one.”

He said that last time, too, and being trapped in a storage locker with Brad and a giant bag of sweaty uniforms so I could tell him I loved him was not my idea of missing out. Brad fell asleep and Brad 8.0 was a total bust.

I sighed as I met his confident stare. He lived in our house, so he saw all the going-ons as much as I did.

“Or I could just leave it?” I said. “I’m going in two months. That’s nothing compared to how long I’ve been putting it off.”

Scouts had been eying Brad since we joined the Redhill Kites, but we still hadn’t heard a thing. The plan was to go home for a month before I left for training with the Wranglers. I’d already taken a risk being with him for another year, but I wasn’t so good at hockey that I could ask for more time off. I had my ticket to the NHL; I just needed to get on the bus.

Lance clicked his teeth, lurching forward to press the top of his nose against mine.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he said, suddenly throwing all the force he used to lead our freshman team out on the ice straight at me.

I groaned in annoyance, sliding my head back to knock against the ugly green paint which made the orange tapestry beside us even brighter.

“I’m not going to ruin things for him,” I mumbled under the sound of the music, my gaze darting around to look at anything but Lance’s sharp cheekbones and the cleft of his chin.

“Alex, please, come on. ‘I’ll tell him soon’ has been your mantra for, what, seven years? You’re running out of excuses, my friend.”

“I just need to wait for the right time.” I tugged at my lip with my teeth as I fully slouched back against the wall.

Lance groaned, leaning back to roll his eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to God.”

His face morphed from frustration into the sunny smile that blinded most people and fooled everyone. It wasn’t a good sign. As an acting major, I could never quite tell if he was being honest with me, and I rarely trusted him when he smiled like that.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll leave it alone.” He paused, and I made the fatal error of believing for a microsecond that he’d let it go.

But Lance was always on point.

“I’ll let it go if… Okay?” He dipped his chin like he was looking over imaginary glasses. “ If …You let me tell you about Brad 9.0.”

I sighed as I met his shining smile. If I just had to listen to Lance unload his megamind for half an hour, then it would be worth it to get him off my back. Then I could just focus on getting through the next four weeks by completely suppressing myself until I had my monthly cathartic meltdown.

“Alright, but you absolutely promise you’ll leave it alone if I reject Brad 9.0?” I used to avoid his project names but, by the time we got to Brad 5.0, I’d kind of come to like them.

“Of course!” Lance grinned at me again, dropping his palm to sweep his fingers down my arm and ring my wrist. “I promise you’re gonna love it.”

Suddenly, Lance’s full presence surrounded me as he pressed himself even closer.

“So, Alex.” His tone deepened to a purr as one knee slipped between mine as his chest knocked against me. His lips fully brushed my ear as a smirk colored his voice. “How do you feel about making that best friend of yours insanely jealous?”