Page 35 of Heartbreak Hockey

The rest of the team follows Leslie’s lead, turning towels into capes, showing me a long wake of hockey-player ass as they hit the showers.

Leslie’s still the only one I want to bend over.

He looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s had the desired effect and gives his Elvis-style lip-curl smile when he sees that he has.

Know what? Burning something of his just for the pleasure of doing it could be a good time.

Getting the fuck out of there, I head straight to my condo and let myself take care of the erection from hell while I picture his round ass and the way his lips pout when he comes.

It’ll wear off. It’s just a crush. No witchcraft required. Maybe it’s time I brought someone home for a night.

I’ve been working hard. I’ve been diligently Facetiming with the fam as much as possible. Other than that, I’ve kept to myself. I’ve earned a night out.

As much as I like toying with the idea of finding a hot stud to pull into my bed, I know it’s a useless endeavor while I’m hexed with this Jack sickness. Not only will it be disappointing, but I’ll have to relive the depression of him not being who I want him to be.

If I’m honest with myself that’s what I did all summer. Slept with men and wished they were Jack.

Instead, I settle on going for a walk since it’s not raining for once. It’s my luck that as I’m walking out of the condo building doors, the van filled with Jack and crew pulls in. Thank fuck they’re dressed. Leslie’s weathered hat is backward on his head, which is another bonus—I don’t have to think about yanking him around by the hair.

Which he would fucking love. That man loves being roughed up.

Stop thinking of sexually roughing Leslie up.

They’re piling out of their van in the wide and desolate parking lot, laughing, joking. Some of them touch Leslie and I’m jealous that I’m not allowed to do the same.

You need to get a fucking grip, Meyer.I really need to or I’m not gonna last the season.

“Get to bed early tonight,” I dictate to them as I walk by. “You all worked hard today and could use the extra recovery.”

“You’re such a buzzkill, Coach,” the less well-behaved Alderchuck says. “You need to get laid or something. Seriously, man.”

“No, he fucking doesn’t, Casey,” Leslie says, pushing his way in front of his friends so that he’s in front of me. “Make him do push-ups or something for saying shit like that, Coach.”

He breathes fire at his friend.

Wait a tick. That’s not right. Those two are thick as thieves. I do some math, but it can’t be. Two plus two isn’t computing to four and yet, it’s the only possible conclusion.

Leslie’sjealous.

That one beautiful word blossoms in my chest as hope. The little fucker. His behavior suggests that he doesn’t want me putting my hands on a random dude, any more than I want other dude’s hands on him.

“I dunno, Leslie. Sounds like solid advice to me. Any place in town you might suggest?” I’m not gonna follow through, but it would serve him right to think that I am after his cheeky display in the locker room.

“You’re so old, Coach,” Dirk—Boulder—says. “Download Benduovr. It’ll tell you how much available dick is in town and how far away it is from you."

“Thanks for the tip.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dirk? You know we’ve fucked.” Holy shit. Leslie said that. He. Said. That.

The clouds of my nightmare part.

“Yeah, you’ve fucked and then it was over,” Dirk says, his tone laced with challenge.

I’m forced to do more math because it isn’t like his hockey brethren to throw him under the bus like this. Are they trying to make himmorejealous? I am all for that. I cross my arms over my chest. It’s my turn to smile. “Problem, Leslie?”

We have a dryland faceoff in which he attempts to burn through me with his jade-green eyes.Oh, Leslie. You really don’t want me fucking around, do you?

I allow a joyous smile to crack my face. But the longer we stare, the more we’re pulled to one another. It takes effort not to let it happen, give up the fight, and just fall into each other’s arms.