Chapter Nine

Josh

I was a fucking regular at hockey games. Like, every home game, there I was sitting in the stands, a little notebook in hand, jotting down observations like I was some kind of 1950’s reporter. I went by myself, for some reason never asking any of my friends or family to come along. To Devon, I groused about my stupid project for sports journalism and how ridiculous it was that I had to spend so much time on one assignment. For some reason, I never mentioned to Devon that I was working on said project with the cute guy I’d met at physical therapy.

Once the season started, Campbell and I would meet after each game in 3C to talk about hockey, write about hockey, record discussions about hockey. When we met the week after his first game, he told me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t think it was a good idea for us to fool around. He talked a lot about distractions and the NHL, and I respected his choice, of course, responding with a sympathetic “okay” and lots of “I understands” even as my disappointment was a visceral stress settling in the pit of my stomach.

His adorably flushed face had looked stern and serious and conflicted as he’d told me there would be no more kissing. It was odd how much he could telegraph just with his eyes and that fucking adorable blush. All I could think about was kissing him when he looked like that. Maybe I just needed to get laid. It had been quite some time since I’d hooked up.

With his eyes downcast and that floppy, reddish-brown hair covering his face, he apologized, of all things.

“I just can’t have any distractions, Josh,” he repeated. “I’m sorry.”

I thought I was making light of it and playing it off as a joke when I told him it was no problem, then proceeded to describe what a player I was, making it sound like he’d just been another hookup, and it wasn’t a big deal.

He dropped onto the ottoman as I continued to ramble on about hookup apps and nights at The Valley and texts between my roommate and me letting each other know when we needed the room.

Campbell sat, leaning back on one arm, rubbing his thigh with the other as I unpacked my laptop and rambled on about dick.

When I had my computer set up, I finally looked at him. That blush that brought out his red highlights was deep as he stared at me in wonder.

“Oh, um. I just meant, you don’t have to be sorry, or worry about me, or whatever. I’ll be fine. As a matter of fact, Devon is with his study group tonight.” I picked up my phone and waved it at Campbell. “Maybe I’ll take advantage.”

“Oh. Okay. We can find another time to work on this.”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant. I know how valuable your time is. God, every time we text, you’re either at practice, going to practice, or coming from practice. Unless you’re on your way to the gym. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I don’t know how you do it, Cam. Or how you keep up with your schoolwork on top of it. So no, I didn’t mean I was bailing on our study sesh to hookup.”

In my nervous, oversharing way, my goal had been to put Campbell’s mind at ease; instead, I was looking at a blushing mess whose shoulders were around his ears and whose fingers were worrying his hair so much I was afraid he would come away with a clump of it clinging to his fingers.

I changed tactics, pulling out the little notebook I’d taken notes in during his game.

“So let’s get to work. I have about a million questions. Including, genuinely, how you keep up with everything, so I listed a bunch of things that I thought might make good topics for the podcast.”

I turned my chair backward and straddled it as I had done the first night and handed Campbell the book.

“This is great, Josh. You’ve got the whole thing mapped out. Where do we start?”

“Tell me about Thursday’s game.”

“You want me to just talk about it?”

“Yeah, I figure, you start spewing hockey, and I’ll interrupt when I need something clarified. You just have to promise we’ll get to the fighting because holy fuck, I grew up with six siblings, and even I’ve never seen anything so aggro IRL. I think that will have to be its own whole podcast. Like maybe a whole series.”

Campbell shrugged, and I hit record on my laptop. “It can get pretty intense on the ice. Sometimes you just have to let out your aggression.”

“I noticed you behaved pretty well on Thursday.”

Campbell looked down at his hands but then did this adorable thing where he kept his head down and looked up at me through his eyelashes and those floppy bangs as if he were confessing a secret. His eyelashes, by the way, were perhaps the longest I had ever seen. Were eyelashes sexy?

“My family surprised me on Thursday and came to the game. We don’t live too far away, but it’s hard for them to leave the farm. It was a whole thing. I haven’t told them …”

I interrupted, hoping to save Campbell from having to talk about our encounter or coming out again. “I know, Cam. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. Please trust me.”

“What? No. I know, and I do trust you. It’s not that. I haven’t told them about the Buffalo Blizzard. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”

“Your parents must be supportive of you playing, though, right?” Campbell smiled and started talking about his family, their hard work on the farm, and their sacrifices to get him to the rink for practice. He made them sound like good parents, but there was some reason Cam felt like he couldn’t come out. Instinctively, I blamed them.

“Luckily, the rec center was in our town, so we didn’t have to travel for practice like some of the other kids. But it was still a lot of time away from the farm for one of my parents when they had to travel with me to games.”

Campbell started to reminisce about playing as a kid and through high school, and I started taking notes.

He talked a lot about discipline and focus, mentioning a high school coach who’d taught him that hockey should be his sole priority. Anything that distracted from hockey was frowned upon, including relationships. As a person who’d lived a pretty directionless life, I couldn’t really relate, so I sure as shit couldn’t criticize him for it. But it did seem to me like the setup for a very lonely life.

I began to look forward to both the games and our time in 3C. I loved listening to Cam talk, his passion for the game, and his commitment to his family shining through in everything he said. He was genuine, and I felt a pull toward him that I’d never felt before.

I was at my fourth game, the first period wrapping up, when I got two texts, one right after the other.

Dev: My fucking brother.

Finn: Can we talk?

I sent Devon a shrugging emoji. Him being pissed off at his twin brother, Gavin, was not new news, so I was going for the what can you do about it vibe.

To Cam, I responded: It’s the middle of the game , with a winky-face emoji.

Finn: After. Meet around back, where we entered the day you skated for me.

The day we first kissed, I thought, and the memory had my heart beating in such a frenzy I worried for my health. It was not a feeling I was familiar with. I responded with a simple “ ok. ”

Before the end of the game, which Hampstead won, I had another text from Devon.

Dev: Lucky at Lefty’s. See you tomorrow.

Dev: PS, fuck Gavin

Josh: Fuck Gavin

I was nothing if not a supportive best friend. I waited until the stands had cleared out, scribbling thoughts and game highlights in my little notebook and figuring Campbell would need time to shower and do whatever it was teams did in locker rooms after wins. If TV was to be believed, the players would all be jumping on each other in a totally bro-dude way and slapping each other's asses until the coach calmed them down and gave a heartfelt speech. I jotted a note to ask Cam what really happens in the locker room before bundling up and heading out of the building and around to the back door.

There was a group huddled near it, mostly women, and mostly, I was pretty sure, girlfriends of Cam’s teammates. Diane was among them. My phone pinged again as I stood off to the side, hoping not to be noticed.

Finn: Celebration at the Hockey House tonight. I wanted to talk to you, but I don't think I can get out of it.

I shrugged and started to turn away, reminding myself what a bad idea it was to get hung up on a closeted dude. Devon was out for the night. I started to close out of my messaging app in favor of the Guys4Guys hookup app, but before I could, the three dots started jumping. I watched them bounce as I began to walk away.

I was almost out of sight of the small crowd when my phone pinged again, at the same time I heard the door open and a very rowdy group of guys start cheering.

Finn: You could come? I told the guys about the project, and that you’d basically be there doing research so we could talk about the game on our podcast.

Finn: The after-party is a crucial part of the hockey experience, after all.

The text was followed by a series of alternating emojis of a winking face, a hockey stick, and a mug of beer.

I looked up to see that the gaggle of girls, many now arm in arm with besuited men, was heading away from the arena as the last of the team straggled out of the door and followed them. Bringing up the rear, a few paces behind a group of three players, was Cam, looking down at his phone. He stepped out and stayed by the door, in the shadow of the building, looking around, first at the group, then at the larger area. From my distance in the dark, I doubted he could see me. He hung back by the door as the crowd walked away from him, his face illuminated by his phone.

I waited for the crowd to move ahead, then instead of responding to his text, I jogged up next to him, tucking my phone and my hands in my coat pockets. Before I could reach him, he gave up his visible search, looking at his phone once more as he followed at a distance behind the group.

My footsteps must have been drowned out by the excited crowd in front of us because I had to pull up next to Cam before he looked up and right at me with a smile so dazzling, it practically lit up the dark area we were traversing. He looked like an absolute movie star in his tight-fitting suit and tie, a stark contrast to the sweats and T-shirts I was used to seeing him in. It gave him a presence as he towered over me, a confidence devoid of the usual stressful subtext. I was drawn to him even more than usual, the Guys4Guys app all but forgotten as I smiled in return.

“Hi,” he breathed.

I took in his smile. I had to fist my hands in my pockets not to reach out and touch his cheek, the desire to capture it, to memorize it and then to kiss it off his face a physical thing that I had to fight not to do.

“Hey,” I said back, and I thought I saw his own hand twitch at his side. “Good game.”

“Yeah, thanks. It was.” I looked him up and down. He was simply stunning.

He acknowledged my obvious gaze by flicking his tie. “Oh yeah, the suit.” He shrugged as if he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. “It’s tradition. I hate it. I grew up on a farm, you know. This thing makes my skin crawl.”

It was making my skin crawl, too, but not in any kind of pejorative way. I really wanted to tell him how hot he looked, but I didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable, so I simply muttered, “It looks good on you.”

We started walking side by side, following the crowd but not making an effort to catch up. He surprised me by asking, “Yeah?”

It felt like permission, so I rolled my eyes at him and started with a joke before confessing the truth. “Yeah, it really suits you, but come on, you must know how hot you look!”

He shoulder checked me. “Shut up, nerd.”

He was so much bigger than me that I lost my balance for a second, and he reached out, wrapping a big hand around my waist to steady me. We caught each other’s eyes, and his look was no joke. I knew he was conflicted, and I was trying my best to keep my own emotions in check, but it was damn hard when I was staring up at a sexy, besuited puppy dog, that crazy mix of confidence and conflict that he exuded enrapturing me.

“You sure it’s okay that I come over?” I thought it best to change the subject, and I was genuinely confused as to why he’d invited me back to the Hockey House, where we would be surrounded by his teammates and friends, me the short, preppy stranger in their mix.

“Yeah, yes, of course? I mean, we’re friends, right? Besides, it will be good for the project. Give you some background into the guys, the team. What it’s like after a win. It’ll … It’ll be fun.”

I tried to lean in and shoulder Cam like he’d done to me, but he was so much taller that all I did was bounce myself off of him and almost lose my balance again. Cam grabbed my upper arm to steady me, and we ended up face-to-face, or, well, face to chest, with Cam grasping my arm tightly.

“Fun,” I croaked in response as I had meant to when I leaned into him.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

He looked to his left at the crowd laughing and cheering as they moved further and further away from us, hurrying to their destination and out of the cold.

“I …”

“Cam, it’s okay …” was all I got out before he slid his fingers down my arm and held my hand. He looked back one more time before taking off in the opposite direction, dragging me behind him.

I couldn’t help but look back, worried Cam’s teammates would see us running off holding hands. “Cam?” I questioned, working hard to keep up while looking toward Cam, then over my shoulder once again to point at the team.

“Party’s that way, Finn.”

We were back at the deserted arena, near the door Cam had just exited. “Cam, where are we going?”

“I don’t … I don’t know.” He sighed, leaning on the door and slumping his shoulders. “I just … I don’t know. I just …”

“Hang on.” I pulled my phone out and found my text chain with my roommate.

Josh: You still good if I head back to the room?

Dev: Did you get hit on at the hockey game?

Josh: Maybe.

I took one look at Cam’s stressed-out face and amended my answer.

Josh: Nah. I’m gonna work on my notes from tonight, and I just want to make sure I don’t have to babysit Drunk Devon.

Dev: You love Drunk Devon.

Josh: Not when I have homework.

Dev: Room’s yours. Have fun

Josh: You 2. Play safe.

Dev: Always

Dev: Also, it’s Friday night, and you’re doing homework. Nerd.

I ignored the dig.

Josh: So we’re good? Room’s mine?

Dev: So good.

“Cam, don’t freak out, but my roommate’s out for the night. We could … Why don’t we go back to my room?” His face tensed even more if that was possible, so I put my hands up in surrender. “To talk. You need someone to talk to, man. And unless you came dancing out of a closet since the last time I was around you”—I shrugged in an attempt to lighten the mood—“I’m your only option.”

“Who were you texting?”

“Huh?”

“Am I keeping you from something?” he asked before mumbling, “Or someone?”

I flashed my phone at him. “Just confirming with the roomie that he’s not coming back.” Cam’s panic level ratcheted up again, and I raised my hand defensively in front of my face again as well. “I told him I’m doing homework. I promise, Cam, it’s fine. It’s going to be fine. Except …”

“Except?” Good thing he was an elite athlete because Cam’s blood pressure had to be through the roof. I’d never heard a word uttered more tightly. Even in the shadows of the building, I could see the red flush of his face. I tried really hard not to think of it as sexy.

“Except the team will notice if you don’t end up at the party. Are you gonna text someone and let them know you’re not coming? You can … You can lie if you want, tell them you went off with some girl. I can cover for you if you need me to.”

“Oh, yeah. No, yeah. I don’t want to lie. Maybe we should just follow them. Go to the house. To drink. A lot. And celebrate, with the team.” He slumped along the wall of the complex and worried his hands through his thick hair, looking at me, so lost. “You can pull out that little notebook and come up with stuff to ask my teammates.” He was rambling on about our project, but I knew that was the furthest thing from his mind.

I looked around, and we were completely alone, the crowd so far down Windmill Road that I could barely hear their whoops of celebration.

“You’re not alone, Cam.” I stood in front of him, looking both ways once more just in case before daring to move so close. The area was deserted as we stood eye to eye thanks to Campbell’s slumped stance.

He took my hand and pulled me to him. I tripped into him, our lower halves touching, our legs entwined. He wrapped his big arms around me and pulled me in for a kiss.

I could feel the strength of those arms and the clamping of muscled thighs around one of mine, and I expected the kiss to follow suit, to show strength and dominance. I was ready for it, hungry for it. I wanted him to let loose, to know he was safe, to have his way with me.

Instead, I felt the soft press of cold, chapped lips as they brushed mine, hesitant and light. Slowly and delicately he moved his mouth against mine, holding me so securely and making me feel like I’d never been kissed before.

Maybe I never really had if that was how it was supposed to feel. I opened my mouth, subtly, as slowly and hesitantly as he had, and when my tongue peeked out, he pulled back.

“Sorry. My lips are chapped. All those hours on the ice …” He hadn’t let me go, and we looked at each other, just staring for a long moment.

“We should go somewhere and talk, Cam. It doesn’t have to be the dorm if you’re not comfortable with that.”

“No, it should be the dorm,” he said, his eyes showing a conviction that the hitch in his voice betrayed. He released me only to entwine our fingers once more.

I hated to ask it, but I wanted to protect Cam as much as I could. “Do you need to put in an appearance at the party first?”

“Yeah, I probably should. At least long enough to take this stupid suit off.”

“Do you want to meet me at my dorm?”

“No, you should come with me. Please?”