Page 9 of Little Treat

I couldn’t get him out of my mind. He was free to say the things on his mind and he didn’t hesitate for even a second. I spent most of the night after he left trying to find that same courage from within. He’d called me Daddy, and I’d played that role before with a fling. It was fairly new, but it was still such a thrill. I wanted him to call me it, and more than that, I wanted the care and trust that came with it—even if it was only temporary. Jamie was a Band-Aid of fun over my fragile ego that told me I needed to keep playing it straight because of the world I lived in.

The head coach called me, making sure I wasn’t pissing my vacation away—his words, not mine. He knew I was gay, some people did, and it was freeing to know that they knew, but at any moment, I could be outed.

I’d slept until noon. I’d not done that since my twenties. My head hurt after all the stress of knowing this blip of fun would vanish and I’d be back at work stressed.

The resort had a spa, and I took that opportunity up. They came to my room with a massage bed. It was a small woman, who greeted me with a bow, telling me in English that she was Thai and she would be bringing the magic of Thailand to this massage today. I didn’t know what that magic was exactly, but it worked—she was on top of the bed with me, kneading with her elbows and digging deep into my back with her thumbs like she was trying pull my spine out, in the best possible way.

I ordered room service shortly after that. I’d wanted to go out and head right to the chocolate shop, but I was still in my feelings, even after that tiny lady had pummeled all the knots out of my back. And halfway through eating my burger, with extra bacon, Jamie texted me.

I’m disappointed you haven’t come to see me yet.

Aw. You really wanted to see me, then?I sent back.

Obviously he wanted to see me. But I didn’t know if going back there would mean outing myself. His father was a big fan of the Maple Kings, and the number of times cameras had zoomed in on my stressed face—I was almost a meme in the community.

You’ll have to come and find out, won’t you.

What’s in it for me?I asked.

At the same time, I received a barrage of texts from the team in one of the group chats, and all the players seemed to be tagging me.

Logan! We miss you!One of the defense guys said. Denny Jacobson. He was one of the younger guys, and a little bit of an emotional one. It didn’t surprise me he missed me.

Yes, get better.Another message in response to it from Russian goaltender, Boris Popov. A very straightforward guy—like most Russians I worked with.

Most of the guys were sending gifs, some mocking Denny’smiss youmessage. I skipped back to Jamie’s message, just as a new one came.

I want to say I’d give you some head out the back, but it’s far too cold to do that. So, how about you just get to see my pretty face, and I’ll give you a discount on all the chocolate you’re going to buy from me?

I’ll be there in an hour. I want those truffles you mentioned. And if you’re not there to serve me, I’ll be very sad.I sent the message.

There was part of me that wondered if he did this kind of thing to get sales for the chocolate shop, but I removed that negativity since I’d seen the store full of customers. He didn’t need to go around sleeping with guys, getting them tofallfor him, and then milking their bank accounts for delicious chocolate. That would’ve been an awful business plan, especiallywhen he found “the one,” and I really hoped...no.We’d only just met. I wasn’t going to let myself toy with that idea.

Considering I was supposed to be away for this relaxing week, I was still fending off texts from the team. It was nice, actually. I hated leaving them for that final game, but I was not doing well, and that had been affecting the team. And as superstitions go, a down member of staff was not good.

***

I walked around the town for a while, taking in all the sights during the day. It was more alive with people than it was in the evening. I loved seeing all the Christmas-themed stores and wondered what they did during the year when it wasn’t approaching Christmas.

Out of nowhere, a snowball hit my back, splattering and sending its icy droplets down the back of my neck—the scarf proving useless. When I turned I saw Jamie, standing with a second snowball in hand, preparing to throw it.

Nobody batted an eye.

Jamie stood with an accomplished smile on his face. “I thought you were coming to see me,” he said.

“And I thought you might’ve had better aim,” I teased, dusting the snow off my jacket as we walked closer together.

“Oh, I do, but I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, shifting the snowball between his hands. “You know, I used to pitch when I was younger—little league.”

Now we were close enough nobody could hear. “I didn’t want to come and see you right away, because I didn’t want—” I might’ve needed that snowball after all as the heat tickled up my back. I was never this nervous.

“What didn’t you want?” he asked. There was something about his blunt questions, getting right to the point. “Because ifyou don’t want to have fun with me, I’ll just go and find someone else who wants to play with me.”

I kissed him. It was all I could do to replace the words that just weren’t coming. I slowly reached between us as our torsos squeezed together, removing the snowball from his hands.

“Okay,” he said, pulling away first from the kiss, his white skin now a shade of pink and his freckles a whole lot more prominent. “So much for you wanting to be under the gaydar—I mean radar.”

“Worth it,” I said. “I didn’t just come here for a kiss, I also came for some chocolate.”