Page 10

Chapter Ten

Campbell

I knew if we split up that there was a chance I would chicken out and not follow Josh back to his dorm. I was energized by our win but still weighed down with thoughts about the man standing next to me. It was a potent combination.

I pulsed with energy after every game, win or lose, and after every game that year, my thoughts had turned to Josh. I’d look at Noah and Diane, or any of the other players with girlfriends, and feel such a loss, like actual grief. I tried to think of it as general jealousy over what they had, but always, every time, it was Josh I would imagine by my side, his smile, his laugh, the way we talked about everything in study room 3C, even when we were only supposed to be talking about hockey. I wasn’t jealous of the esoteric concept of a partner; I was jealous that Josh wasn’t with me the way that Diane was with Noah.

I’d had a couple of great saves in a row in the first period, my last coming right before the buzzer. I was riding high, and before I could overthink it, I had texted Josh. I didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew I wanted to see him, to be with him. I continued to play well throughout the game, helping to secure a three to oh win for the HU Badgers.

We made it back to my house, and it was surprisingly quiet. A few people were in the living room drinking and talking, but not as many as I had thought would be there.

I blurted out, “Where is everyone?”

“Someone texted that they weren’t carding at Lefty’s, so a bunch of people took off in that direction,” Noah shared. “We won’t be insulted if you two join them.” He wrapped an arm around Diane. “All the girls here are taken.”

I looked at Josh. “Oh, um. I’m just gonna go take this suit off, and then we can decide.”

“I’ll wait for you here.” Josh looked at me pointedly as Noah welcomed him into the group.

“Hey, guy from the party.”

“Hey, guy from the hockey team,” Josh countered. “I guess I’m the guy from Campbell’s sports journalism class now. I insisted I needed to know everything about the game, including post-game party rituals, if we’re gonna ace our project.”

Someone handed Josh a drink and encouraged him to ask them anything. I looked at him in question, and he gave me a subtle nod, which morphed into an evil grin as he turned back to the group and replied, “Anything, you say?”

I ran upstairs to change. Part of me was so wound up that I almost texted Josh to make some excuse to join me, but then I remembered that he had an empty dorm room available, a much safer place for us to be alone, whether it was just to talk, or if I was brave enough to ask for something more. I changed quickly and returned downstairs to find the group laughing and drinking beer. I slipped into the kitchen to get one of my own and joined the small circle of teammates and friends in the living room.

Josh had pulled out his little notebook and was jotting things down as the guys fed him stories about practice and games and after parties.

“You know most of us stay here over Thanksgiving. Training isn’t mandatory, but Coach makes it clear that everyone should attend.”

“Yeah, the phrase voluntary practice basically means be there or else,” I contributed as I walked out of the kitchen.

“You guys don’t go home for Thanksgiving?”

“Well, people who live close enough, like Cam, can head home for the day, at least, but I’m from Texas, so it’s easier just to stick around. Last year my parents came here, but I’m on my own this year. A bunch of us are, and we’re having Thanksgiving dinner here,” Ethan shared.

“Where are you from? Is it a pain for you to get home?” Noah asked Josh. I couldn’t help but snort, and Josh and Diane laughed outright.

He pointed toward the side of the house. “My family lives about two blocks that way, so traveling for the holidays is not an issue for me.”

“Oh, wow. Cool.” Noah continued, “You’ll have to come to the stragglers’ party at Delta Tau that Friday, then. Anyone who’s around is welcome! We may have to attend practices on Friday and Saturday, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun in between! A bunch of the foreign students usually show up. It’s a good time.”

Josh shot me a look and responded noncommittally with a, “Thanks, man.”

The only spot left to sit was on the couch next to Josh, and I didn’t trust myself to be that close to him, so I sat on the floor instead, leaning off the side of one of our living room chairs. From above me, Ethan mussed up my hair and joked, ‘What, does the new guy have cooties?”

I made a point of stretching out my legs and flexing my ankles, hoping to throw Ethan off the scent. I hated having to hide, and I could barely look at Josh without blushing. I could feel his eyes on me even though I didn’t look up. He rescued me, nonetheless.

“Ankle bugging you?” I snapped my head up then and fought to keep from smiling.

“All good,” I said as I shook my head no. “Just the general aches and pains of the game. Stretching helps.” Josh picked up his notebook and wrote something down, or maybe he pretended to because his eyes never really left mine, and I could see the laughter in them. It occurred to me that Ethan might be able to see the ice-blue dance over my shoulder. How did our connection look to my housemate and team captain?

“Found the title for your podcast, then?” Ethan joked. “‘Stretching Helps.’”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “More like a life motto.” He got a good laugh out of that one, but I couldn’t join in, my chest tightening, thinking of Josh getting along with my friends. Thinking about hanging out like this all the time, with Josh there as my person. Thinking about Josh stretching. I sipped my beer, then carded my fingers through my hair while Josh asked which title the group liked better, Hockey One Oh One or Season in the Spotlight .

Ethan ruffled my hair again. “That’s a no-brainer, Josh. We all know that Cam belongs in the spotlight.”

“Yeah, he does,” Josh agreed, looking right at me again before looking up at Ethan and then quickly focusing on his scribbling again.

I knew it had been a mistake to invite Josh, but the thing was, Josh had been to every one of our home games, and he’d never stayed after the game, even to say hi. I saw him in the crowd each week, except for one when he had sat somewhere different. When I asked him about it in class, he told me he had intentionally sat elsewhere to get a different perspective on the game. Earlier that night, he had been back in his regular seat, looking right at me as I entered the rink.

So I’d invited him to come to the after-party, but first we’d stood in the shadows of the ice rink and kissed, and all I wanted was to kiss him again.

Ethan tapped my shoulder, and I turned to look at him as I swatted him away. “Huh?” I’d clearly missed something.

“Just because you live like a monk doesn’t mean Josh here wants to. What do you guys say? I’m gonna head over to Lefty’s and scope out the action.” He pointed to Josh, and I turned to face him, finding his eyes on me as if he was trying to read the look on my face. I clocked his look of concern as Ethan ordered, “Write this in your little book. The puck bunnies come out in full force when you win, and when you have the team’s ‘Mr. Nice Guy superstar’ with you”—I felt my hair get mussed again—“they come out of the fucking woodwork. Whaddya say, Cam? Josh? Should we leave these boring couples and head to the bar?”

I felt trapped, Josh looking on sympathetically, Ethan behind me talking about hooking up with women.

“I think you mean happy couples, not boring couples. You guys should try it sometime.” I thought Noah’s quip would give me a moment to center myself, but he had shone the spotlight on me instead.

He pointed between Ethan and me. “You’re like two extremes, this one with a different girl every night, and hell, Cam, I think Josh is the only person you’ve had over since the season started!”

I jumped up, a look of desperation on my face, but Josh stood, too, and rescued me. “You know, Cam, your friends are right. We’re way too focused on this stupid podcast project. You two should definitely be out chasing, what’d you call them, puck bunnies? But I’m gonna leave you guys to it.” He looked at me then, his gaze intense. “Meet up with my own crew. Congrats on the win, guys.”

He walked right past me and headed for our front door, phone in hand before he was even on the other side. One of the couples in the room took the opportunity to get up and make their way upstairs, and Noah mumbled a, “See ya,” as he and Diane headed to his room toward the back of the house.

Shelley: Still meet me if you want. Doesn’t matter how late.

He added his dorm and room number.

Ethan clapped me on the shoulder, and I shoved the phone in my pocket, taking in the suddenly empty room. “Come on, man.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess so. Maybe one drink.”

I threw a winter coat on and followed Ethan out of the house, a cold blast of Hampstead Valley wind finding my face like a slap. I felt like I deserved a slap, inviting Josh, basically offering to hook up with him, then sending him on his way because I was too in my own head to even sit next to him. He shouldn’t have invited me to join him in the dorm, he should have told me to fuck off.

Head down against the wind and hands stuffed in my pockets, we walked briskly to the nearby bar. Ethan was talking a few paces ahead of me but didn’t seem to require a response as I thought seriously for the first time what it might mean if I came out. I mean, it wasn’t the Middle Ages; there were out major league players in some sports and even an out NHL prospect.

And yet it was such a hang-up for me. In part, I blamed my high school hockey coach, who used to bark at us all the time about not having any distractions during the season. If it were up to him, we would have been exempt from homework and family obligations and anything but hockey. He’d drilled that into me personally, pulling me aside over the years to tell me he thought I could go far and doling out advice on how to get there. “Hard work! Concentration! Keep your head down, Cam, and most importantly, no distractions!”

He’d drilled that into me over four years and reminded me of it again when I was a senior, and I’d started dating a girl I had been friends with for years, Leah. The thing was, he hadn’t needed to, as I was so goddamn distracted after Leah suggested we could maybe have sex for the first time after the winter formal that instead of going through with it, I broke up with her.

I played like crap for a week after that, my friends all teasing me that I should beg Leah to get back together with me. I resolved at the end of the week that my love life in general, and my gayness in particular, would never be distractions. And I had used my “no distractions” motto as an excuse to not think about my sexuality, much less contemplate coming out.

Joshua Marchetti-Gordon was proving to be a huge fucking distraction.

The thing about me is that attraction generally isn’t that big a deal for me. Over the years, there had maybe been one or two guys that I liked. I can freely admit that I thought Josh was cute when I saw him in that waiting room, and had I sat at the other side of the room and never seen him again, he would have just been one of the guys on that list. Jon from high school, Ned from the opposing traveling hockey team, the guy in my dorm freshman year who never wore a shirt. My attraction to them was as meaningless as my attraction to random movie stars or influencers who popped up on my phone or the shockingly hot man who was then president of the United States.

But then Josh and I talked, and it’s not like I believe in love at first sight or anything, but I just knew I had to see him again. In my convoluted brain, I had thought I could ignore my pull to him the day I met him by inviting Diane to the party instead, when what I really wanted to do that day was to invite him.

So when fate brought us together again, first at the gym and then in the same class, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to him both times.

All the hours we’d been spending together had allowed me the chance to get to know him, and there was this part of me that just knew that if I weren’t so hung up on the “no distractions” thing that I would have asked Josh out, properly and directly. Not just a hey, come to my party or a casual hookup but a proper date.

But Josh wouldn’t have wanted that. I’d learned that by becoming friends with him. He liked to play the field, hooking up with different guys. Hell, if I’d texted him right then and told him I wasn’t coming, I was sure he’d take advantage of having the room to himself to find some willing guy to fool around with.

So I told him nothing of the kind.

I went to the bar with Ethan, and we found our teammates and many hangers-on taking up most of the front corner of the restaurant. Ethan, who was twenty-one, headed to the bar, and I followed. I hadn’t eaten since before the game, and I thought about ordering something, but when we were intercepted by a woman that I knew Ethan was interested in, I just quickly ordered a soda instead. I went back to the crowded hockey table and left Ethan by the bar, where he and the woman shared a corner of the counter next to a group of guys around our age.

Our group was pretty rowdy, still celebrating the win, and they cheered as I approached. I loved the feeling of doing my best on the ice and of winning, but I hated being the center of attention. It was another reason why I’d decided to stay in the closet. I was just a simple farm boy from Upstate New York who was pretty good at blocking a goal. I wasn’t a trailblazer or an activist. I just wanted to play hockey.

I stood on the fringe of the group, sipping my drink, smiling and thanking people who came up to me. Two of the guys from the bar left, arm in arm, right as I was draining the last, watery dregs of my soda, and I could have sworn the blond was checking me out even as he left the building on another man’s arm.

I muttered to my closest teammate that I was going to the bathroom, but when I was done, instead of rejoining the group, I slipped out a door of the restaurant further down the hall from the bathrooms and found myself near the dumpsters.

As I walked toward campus and before I could think the better of it, I pulled my phone out and texted Josh: Am I too late? It hadn’t even been an hour since he’d texted me, but I still felt like an asshole doing it. The need to see him, however, was stronger than my selfish stupidity.

His reply was immediate.

Shelley: Absolutely not. Turns out actual studying on a Friday night sucks ass. SAVE ME.

I’d lived in Parson Hall my freshman year but had moved into the Hockey House when I was a sophomore. Living directly off campus in a group house with a bunch of starting members of the hockey team meant that people generally sought out our company. It had been a long time since I’d been inside one of the HU dorms. Cortland Hall was Parson’s twin and Josh’s home his senior year.

Head down and hands in my pockets again, I raced there as quickly as I could, only realizing as I stopped in front of the building that I had been full-on running most of the way.

Looking up at the tall building, I felt guilty and embarrassed for having ditched Josh and so grateful that he’d let me come to him anyway. My other conflicting feelings almost, but not quite, buried the nervousness I felt about what might happen if I entered the doors in front of me.

I texted Josh again: I’m outside.

Shelley: Hang tight. I’ll come get u.

The Cortland Hall entry doors were glass, and I could see as Josh exited the elevator with the same sense of urgency I’d had running across the quad. He slowed down at the entrance, and I watched as he stopped, took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his short hair. He was staring right at me.

I smiled at him like an idiot, but his expression was serious, and I realized it wasn’t me he was seeing but his own reflection in the glass. I wanted to tell him he looked great.

I wondered what his serious expression was about and why he was even bothering to fix his hair. I knew hooking up with me was no big deal for him, because hooking up in general was no big deal for him. I wondered what was wrong.

A really large and noisy crowd of people walked past me toward the entry doors, and Josh must have slipped out as they went inside because suddenly he was in front of me, wearing a pair of shorts, a tight T-shirt sporting the name of a beach I’d never heard of and a pair of neon-green shower shoes. I was a little taken aback, so used to seeing him impeccably dressed. The shirt was so small it barely met the waistband of his sports shorts, which were very short.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” I returned, dragging my own hair through my fingers. “You must be freezing,” I said, and I didn’t mean to, but my eyes went to his chest, and I swore I could see his nipples pebbling under the smooth, clingy material. That was something I hadn’t realized was sexy until that very moment, and it heightened my every sense.

The energy I was feeling was such a potent combination of anxiousness and excitement that I didn’t know what to do with it. I worried my hair and waited for Josh to say something.

“I’m glad you came. Come on upstairs, and we can talk.”

“Josh …” I felt like I owed him an apology.

The smile never left his face, but Josh’s tone was firm when he said, “Inside.” I nodded and followed him up the entrance steps.

The lobby was crowded as we entered, that large group waiting for the elevators.

“You okay with the stairs? I'm on the fourth floor,” Josh asked before turning down a quieter hall and opening the heavy door to the stairs.

I muttered, “No problem,” as I followed behind him and away from the crowd.

Josh bounded up the stairs, and I took my time following. He turned and watched me lumber up behind him.

“Shit, you must be exhausted. I just thought … I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen … I guess … I mean … We’re just working on our project, right?” His eyes continued to show deep concern, but his smile was apologetic and lopsided and absolutely fucking adorable. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed me, so I caught up to him and did just that.

He pulled back immediately in surprise and looked around the empty stairwell. It was clear we were alone because anyone using them would have made the same amount of noise we had, clomping our way up to the fourth floor.

“How’s your ankle?” Josh asked, pulling us apart anyway.

“Fine,” I assured him. He looked up and down the stairs once more before he entwined my fingers with his and dragged me up the remaining flight of stairs, stopping at the door to the hallway to first drop my hand, then slowly open it and peek out, looking both ways to make sure the coast was clear.

“Go,” he whispered and began running down the hall like a madman. He had his key in the door and was holding it open for me while I jogged at a reasonable pace behind him, laughing at his antics. I entered the room and took it in, actually turning in a circle to have my eyes land back on his face as he slowly pulled the door closed behind him.

“Effing door,” he muttered, or at least I think that’s what he said. I was about to ask, but as soon as the door snicked, Josh was in front of me, five fingertips pressed to my chest. He walked closer, and I stood still until we were face-to-face. He continued to push, causing me to back up into the room. We were standing in front of the long desk that ran the length of the far wall of the room before Josh closed the distance between us and kissed me gently.

We stood like that, in the middle of the room, wrapped up in each other’s arms as he explored my mouth, his arms tight around my neck as he stretched up on his toes. I pulled him in tight, and he tilted his head the other way, barely pulling back as if our lips couldn’t bear to be apart. With little flutters, his tongue peeked out, and I opened my mouth to him, wanting more.

Soon even his insistent tongue playing games with mine wasn’t enough, and my hands started to move up and down his T-shirt, gliding easily over the silky material, going lower and lower with each swipe until I was brave enough to find my way to his ass.

Feeling the rounded muscles tighten underneath my hands, I let out a moan I had never heard myself make before. It was deeper and more erotic than any of the times I had jacked myself off, all from kissing him and caressing his rear. I didn’t know if the hitched sigh he let out was a result of my hands on his ass or his reaction to my moan, but it was like I could feel it firing through my body, tugging at my arousal until the sensation was almost too much.

I pulled him closer still, and I wished more than anything that I wasn’t still wearing my heavy winter jacket, because I was sure if I wasn’t, I would be able to feel his dick against me.

He moaned again as he pulled away from me, his blue eyes darker than usual, which only made the paler blue sparkle more in contrast. I didn’t remember my hands running through his hair, but it was sticking up all over the place. I felt heat on my own skin and sweat on my brow as I ran my fingers through my hair.

He took an exaggerated step back. “We should talk, Cam.”

“Okay.” My fingers were still in my hair. “Yeah, yes. Okay.” I took my jacket off and hung it over one of the chairs tucked under the long desk. There was a bed on either side of it. One bed was neatly made, the section of the desk adjacent to it organized. The other side of the room was a chaotic mess. Though I’d never met his roommate, for some reason I assumed the chaotic mess belonged to Josh.

He rolled the other desk chair out and dragged it behind him to the bed at the far side of the room, the one that was unmade and stacked with clothes. He shoved the whole pile to the foot of the bed and smoothed out the bottom sheet before turning to me.

“Sit.”

I obeyed and dropped to the side of the bed as he sat in the chair, gliding on it until we were face-to-face, knees touching.

I leaned forward to try and kiss him again. He pushed back, letting the chair roll, putting some distance between us. My stomach took that moment to growl, embarrassingly loudly. I would have been happy to ignore it, but Josh jumped up, the chair rolling away from him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Shit, you must be starving, burning all those calories during the game. You didn’t eat at the bar?” He sounded equal parts concerned and chastising, like it was his job to be worried about my well-being. My stomach did a little swoop that had nothing to do with being hungry. Sure, most of the guys on the hockey team looked out for each other, and for sure the coaching staff was all over us about our health and nutrition, but aside from my family, I don’t think I’d ever really had anyone else express concern over me like that.

I stopped my internal train of thought by realizing that it was simply the musings of an inexperienced person. Friends asked friends if they were hungry when their stomach made it sound like they hadn’t eaten in days. I was reading too much into his simple question.

“What do you like on your pizza?”

“Josh,” I tried to argue, but the look he gave me told me that was useless, so I mumbled, “Mushrooms,” instead. He tapped a few buttons.

“Done.”

He sat opposite me again, closer this time so that our knees intertwined.

“You’re clearly going through some shit, Cam. And believe me”—he started running his hands up and down my thighs—“I want to be the one to help you through it.” I tried to smirk at that, but he stayed serious, so I reined in the look and continued to hear him out.

“But I need to know what you’re looking for here,” he said plainly.

The thing was, I had no idea what I was looking for. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. I knew I was ready to cash in my V-card, and I knew I wanted it to be with the guy I’d been obsessing over for months. There was no place for swooping stomachs or flights of romantic fancy in my immediate future. But maybe there could be a friend who ordered pizza and a casual hookup to at least scratch the itch.

There could be no distractions. So I told Josh what I knew we both needed to hear to move forward.

“I know you’re just a hookup guy, Josh. I know that’s what you’re into. And I’m … I’m looking for someone to hook up with. Someone I can trust with my secret and with … other things.”

He gave me a pointed look and waited patiently for me to elaborate.

I inhaled a deep breath and continued with resolve. “I’ve never been with anyone. I’d barely ever kissed anyone before I met you. I need you to understand, I can’t let anything distract me, my career is too important to me. Dating would be a distraction. Being ‘the gay hockey player’ would be a distraction. But I’m almost twenty-one years old. What if I do get into the NHL next year? Do you think there are many professional players who are virgins?”

“I don’t know about any of that, Cam. But I do know that having sex, like coming out, is a personal decision. You shouldn’t let anyone pressure you, and you most definitely shouldn’t do it just because .” It was the perfect thing to say, of course.

I shook my head as I moved closer to him. “That’s not what this is. I promise. I want to have sex, and I want it to be with you. A hookup. No pressure, no promises. Just sex.”

Josh was looking at me so intently, and the room felt like it was popping around us. His look was serious, and it again had me thinking that he had some other worry on his mind.

“But obviously, only if you want to, Josh.”

He purposefully cleared the look from his face. “Of course, I want to. What made you think …”

“You just looked so serious. Like something was wrong.”

That determined look flashed again, but he quickly softened it to a sweet smile. “I assure you nothing’s wrong, Cam.” He thought for a moment. “It’s just, it’s a big responsibility, to be somebody’s first time. So yeah, I take that seriously.”

“But it’s just hooking up, Josh. Right? I guess I just pictured that, for you, it would just be a bit of fun.”

He smiled more brightly then, making his earlier smile look forced.

“Oh, trust me, it will be fun.” The room started dancing again as if we were the only two people in a darkened room, illuminated by a pulsing disco ball.

He leaned in, hands on my thighs, and I kissed him like he was asking me to with everything but words. Soft, seeking, questioning. I don’t know which one of us instigated it, but without separating, we stood up, and I could hear the chair rolling away from Josh until it hit the other bed.

He stretched up to bring us closer, leaning into me and answering with his own soft, careful kisses. That was all we did, his arms clinging to my neck, me loving the feel of resting a hand on the small of his back, the other a little lower, fitting perfectly as it cupped his ass, our mouths sliding together, his tongue seeking my mouth confidently, mine hesitantly returning the favor, learning from his, then finding its own instinctive path. Something I did made him moan, and he moved closer, his head moving higher. He must be up on his toes, I thought. I realized then that we could be even closer, and there was no hesitancy and no caution as I grasped his glutes and lifted him, his lips never leaving mine.

He groaned as he wrapped his legs around me, his dick hard and trapped between us, and I stumbled, turning to lean on the desk. I thought about spinning around and sitting him down on it, but before I could hoist us back up, his phone made an obnoxiously loud noise. He pulled back and rested his forehead on my clavicle.

“Fuuuccckkk. The pizza. I really don’t want to say this, but you’ve got to let me down, babe, so I can go grab it from the front desk.” I would have let him go as he asked, but he clung to me and didn’t move.

He took in a big breath and then finally did look up. We were face-to-face for a moment, his skin flush and his eyes shimmering. He let out a frustrated sound and leaned in to speak directly in my ear.

“I’m gonna need you to take that sweatshirt off.”

“Uh-huh.” He could have asked me anything, and I would have happily agreed. He signaled to be put down then, and I did as he asked, pulling my sweatshirt off and tossing it toward his bed. Josh intercepted it, turned it right side out, and slipped it over his head. It swam on him.

“That should cover it,” he said, yanking it down in the front even though it already practically hit his knees. He reached under to adjust himself, looking at my similar state and shaking his head as he did so. “I’ll be right back, Finn.”

I sat on his messy bed. I could feel that the look in my eyes conveyed heat. I’d never felt that before, the openness of a man knowing that I wanted him. It thrilled me. I hoped that heat and passion were all he saw on my face.

“I’ll be here,” I said, like I was some kind of sex god and not a too-tall, gawky virgin. Josh grabbed himself again, over my sweatshirt this time, sighed, and shook his head at me before leaving the room. His door slammed loudly as he exited, and I could hear him running down the hallway once again.

I dropped my head between my legs, my dick sticking straight out in front of me and straining my sweatpants to the limit. One thought about how Josh currently had on the matching sweatshirt, and I felt an odd possessiveness, like I hoped people would see him wandering the dorm in my clothes.

I hid my face in my hands and muttered, “My God.” I focused on my dick, chasing the pulsing feeling, trying to chase my nervousness away. I controlled my breathing while Josh was out of the room, replaying our kisses over and over in a way I hadn’t let myself do before.

I can’t have this , I’d convinced myself. I had to focus on hockey and nothing else. I couldn’t have a relationship, not a real one, not one that I would want. How could some nobody college hockey player be out? Professional athletes spent their entire careers in the closet. Only in the most-recent years had a few people in a few professional sports stuck a toe out of the closet. I didn’t think I was strong enough to be one of those few. I knew for damn sure it would be a distraction.

Playing hockey was so important to me. I had a love for the game that had driven me to be the best, but more than that, there was what it could do to help my family, to help my parents in their dream, to support my brothers as they entered college. It had been all that mattered to me for the longest time.

And so what if that meant I didn’t get to have a relationship, didn’t get to come out, didn’t get to fool around? Those things weren’t important. Those things could wait. The NHL could not.

But Josh wasn’t offering a relationship or asking me to come out of the closet, and he certainly wasn’t asking me to pull my focus from hockey. As a matter of fact, so far he’d done all the heavy lifting on our stupid project, which was turning out to be much more fun than it was stupid.

Maybe, maybe I can have this , I thought instead. Have him to fool around with for a little while. It could be no pressure because Josh was the king of no pressure. Maybe I could have him, his body, his experience. Maybe it would sustain me until I could come out and find someone to share my life with. Someone to raise a family with, maybe even take over the farm someday.

I was a junior in college; I didn’t need to think about those things, I just needed to think about my career.

I was there on the messy bed, head in hands, when he returned. The heavy door opened, and at first all I saw was the pizza box nesting on his palm. Like he’d done it hundreds of times before, he held the door open with his hip until the box was through.

“Be prepared. The door will slam,” he warned.

“I should …” I started to say as I rose, but he was through the door before I could either finish the sentence or meet him to help.

Josh set the box down on the neat side of the long, shared desk.

“Dinner is served.”

“I’m starved.”

“I bet you are. That’s fucking hard work you do out there. Buried under all that equipment, flying around the ice more naturally than I can walk down the street. It’s magic to watch. You’re magic to watch.”

I could pretend that odd swooping feeling I’d never experienced before was simple hunger as I opened the lid on the pizza, and Josh found a roll of paper towels in the mess under his bed. We used them as plates to inhale slices of pizza, him in one of the desk chairs, and me on the bed. And if my stomach still felt like an army of butterflies who were failing miserably at cadence, maybe that was just the pizza disagreeing with me.

I’d wolfed down three slices before Josh rolled his chair toward me and held out his hand for my greasy makeshift plate. “More?”

“No, thank you.”

“Good,” was all Josh said as he balled up the paper towels and tossed them in the general direction of a trash can under the desk. He missed. I was closer, so I scooped them up to toss them in, eyeing a used condom among the crushed energy-drink cans, snack-bar wrappers, and various other trash.

I remained standing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Josh stood up quickly, looking concerned. My sweatshirt covered his thighs so completely that his shorts couldn’t be seen. It brought a smile to my eyes though I was too stressed out for it to completely take over my face.

“What?” He laughed at my reaction.

“It’s like a nightshirt. It looks cozy.”

Josh tucked his hands in the front pocket and preened. “It is, but I wouldn’t mind if you took it off me.” He stepped closer.

“Josh.” I could hear in my voice how I was pushing him away, again. I assumed he would lose patience with me at some point. Maybe I even hoped he would. Maybe that would make it easier to walk away.

Instead, he shoved his hands back in the front pouch and sat on the neatly made bed. “Sit,” he ordered. I thought about going back to the opposite bed but changed my mind and took the chair, keeping us far enough apart that we couldn’t touch but facing him head-on.

“Talk to me, Cam.”

“You shouldn’t be so patient with me.”

“You’d prefer I was a dick?”

I stood in frustration, the chair flying out behind me. “Yes! I don’t think I can do this, Josh. And it would be so much easier to walk away if you were a dick.”

“Sorry?”

I laughed at his questioning tone, and he joined in, and goddamn it, I hated how comfortable I was around him, and how much I loved laughing with him. The butterflies in my stomach loved it too.

“You remember what I said, right? You don’t have to rush this. You shouldn’t rush this. It just seems like something made you change your mind. Do you hate the way I eat pizza?”

“You’re adorable when you eat pizza, especially in that sweatshirt,” are the words that came out of my mouth in that moment when I was supposed to be remembering that he was a player who had used condoms in his trash and who would be happy to help me lose my virginity before he moved on to his next conquest.

I kept my gaze steady; what else could I do? The words were out there, I couldn’t take them back. Even if I tried to backtrack, he’d be able to call bullshit because there was no mistaking my tone. I was smitten.

“If it’s not the pizza and not the fact that your clothes fit me like a dress, then what is it? You can tell me, Cam. That’s what this is supposed to be, remember? Someone you can talk to.”

“The only person I can talk to.” We were silent for a very long time, and even as uncomfortable and awkward as it was, it still felt right, being there with him. He was giving me the space to formulate my thoughts. Eventually, he tilted his head.

“It’s the condom. In the trash,” I began. “I saw the stupid fucking condom, and I freaked out. And it’s dumb, I know, because the point of this, the whole point of this, is that you’re experienced, and that you like to play the field, and that you’d just be doing me this favor of screwing me or whatever, and then that would be it. You’d go back to your life, and I … I could go back in the fucking closet.” My hand found my hair and tugged at my bangs. I let them go as Josh responded.

“There’s a condom in the trash?” I peeked through my hair at a laughing Josh.

He shook his head. “Not mine.”

Our eyes met and locked, and it was my turn to remain quiet as it felt like Josh had something else to add.

He started counting on his fingers, then looked back up at me. “Well, fuck. I haven’t … It’s been ... Holy shit, have I not been with anyone since before school started? Yeah, no. The condom is definitely Dev’s. I did him a solid and slept at home the other night. And, yeah, it’s … it’s been a while for me. Since before we … since before I broke my finger.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Josh agreed, like he hadn’t realized the last time he’d had sex until I’d made him think about it. He’d made it sound like his broken finger was to blame, but based on his tone and the look on his face, I wasn’t sure he believed that.

He was staring over my left shoulder, like he purposely wasn’t looking at me, or almost like he couldn’t look at me, which made me so much more uncomfortable. Causal fucking was supposed to be his domain, and yet I’d managed to weird him out.