Page 19

CHAPTER 19

RIVER

Nate leaves his seat, his shoes tapping on the steps behind me. I should get this over with so it doesn’t ruin our day.

But I refuse to look at him.

Not until I gather my thoughts.

I can’t fucking believe him .

Nate’s addiction has finally come between us. At some point, I knew it would. It was only a matter of time before his needs overpowered my own. He has no problem asking me for a handjob, yet when I ask him to reciprocate, it’s like I electrocuted him.

Well, fuck him .

Before he can reach me, I race out of the dark theater. He already made enough of a scene. Besides, I can’t risk someone overhearing the blowout.

I dart through a door to the parking lot and ignore Nate yelling my name. As I power walk to the car, I recall every detail of our conversation. The last part, anyway. The only part that matters to me.

“I want you to make me… come. Please.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “What about me?”

Nate lifted his head from my shoulder. “What about you?”

The way he said you grates on my nerves. Like what I needed didn’t matter to him at that moment.

“River, wait,” Nate shouts behind me, the familiar jingle of him reaching into his pocket for the keys only a few feet behind me. “We need to talk about this.”

I stop by the passenger door to his car. Unless I want to walk the five miles back to campus with a hangover, I have no choice but to catch a ride with him.

Nate hovers in my space, maybe an inch or two between us, and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Keeping my head down, I say, “I know.”

He’s always sorry.

“Riv, look at me.”

I ignore his command. And that pisses him off, his hand now clutching my chin to yank my eyes back to his face.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the pad of his thumb on my chin, and I don’t want him to stop. “I’ll try harder to get this shit under control, okay?”

“I think you should go back to therapy.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not telling some quack about my sex life.”

“Do it for me.”

Nate pauses at my request. His hand falls from my face, and he stuffs both hands into his pockets.

“Please,” I say, reminded of how he begged me in the theater to stroke his dick.

“Would you go with me?” Nate clears his throat and shrugs. “I mean…”

“Yes,” I say without an ounce of hesitation. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“I hate this.” His eyes are on his shoes. “I don’t want to be this way.”

I know how he feels. So many times over the years, I have wanted to be anything other than gay. It would make my life so much easier. Yet, I can’t deny how I feel about men, how I feel about Nate.

“Your addiction is ruining our lives.” I step forward, invading his space. “But we can figure this out together.”

“Promise?”

I nod. “I got you.”

Nate hugs me, resting his chin on my shoulder. Basking in the warmth of his body, I drink in this moment. Any time I get to touch Nate like this, I don’t want to let go.

“Is that River Rousseau?”

I snap my head to the voice and am brought back to reality by a blonde girl in her early twenties holding up her cell phone.

Fuck .

“Holy shit! He’s into dudes.”

“So hot,” her friend comments, licking her lips. “Are you guys gonna kiss or what? I’m dying over here.”

Nate grits his teeth and advances on them. “Give me that fucking phone.”

“Hell, no,” she fires back and runs toward the movie theater. “You want it, come get it, sexy.”

“Don’t bother.” I yank on his arm to pull him to the car. “There’s no point. It will only make things worse.”

He clicks the button on the keyfob to open the doors. “Get in before someone else sees us.”

I slide into the passenger seat, the weight on my chest lessening by the second. Inside the small space, I can catch my breath.

“That looked bad,” I mutter.

Nate hits the ignition switch, and the engine roars to life. “You’ve been caught in more compromising situations over the years. Hugging your best friend isn’t a crime.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I doubt that looked like a hug between friends.”

Because it was so much more .

Nate reverses out of the parking space, arm stretched across the back of my seat, his long fingers dangerously close to touching my shoulder. “Friends can give each other a fucking hug, dude. Chill out.”

Am I being paranoid?

Yes .

Nate drives past a group of girls leaning on a BMW 6 series hood. I glance out the window and spot a few we fucked. I doubt Nate remembers them.

On our way back to campus, I scroll through my notifications. I have over a thousand on Instagram, twelve hundred on TikTok, and at least several hundred direct messages from strangers.

I rarely read the messages. Most of the time, I get tit pics. Even dick pics on occasion. This helped me to understand why women hate it when men send them out of the blue. An unprovoked dick pic is creepy and intrusive.

I’m worried about that girl posting something about Nate and me. I get tagged in other creators’ videos all the time. And with so many notifications, it would take all day to go through them. Unless my dad or my publicist calls, I’m okay.

But I’m still freaking out, so I look at the comments on my latest TikTok video to distract myself.

@Sluttyhockeyfan: Watching River stretch his calves makes me feral.

@Puck_Bunny_For_You: I’d give my left tit for a nude.

@RangersGirlieForLife: What I wouldn’t give to get pucked by Daddy and Son. #lifegoals

@Puckmeinthea: My nipples are hard… and it’s not from the chill in that arena.

@RiversBabyGirl2456: River, come lick the drool from my lip.

@NYFanForEva178: Anyone else need new panties after watching this?

@PuckyGetLucky: I don’t even wear them when watching his videos.

@NYFanForEva178: Ha! Good idea.

@PuckyGetLucky: Especially if his dad is in the vids. Gah!

@Puckmeinthea: Zaddy Ryan. :)

@Sluttyhockeyfan: Zaddy! Zaddy! River, where’s your dad today?

“Oh my god,” I mutter and close out of the TikTok app.

“What?” Nate glances at me when we stop at a red light.

“The comments on the video we uploaded today.”

Nate smirks. “Puck bunnies?”

I bob my head. “They want more videos with my dad.”

“Dude, your dad is a legend. Of course, they do.”

“No, they just want to fuck him.”

He laughs. “They want both of you.”

“Sickos.”

Nate snickers. “No different than what we do with women.”

“He’s my dad,” I point out. “That’s gross.”

“It will only get worse after you sign with a team.” He taps his fingers on the leather steering wheel. “Get used to it.”

Nate punches the gas, and I jolt forward, my shoulder crashing into the seatbelt.

“Slow down,” I tell him as he cuts off another car, weaving in and out of lanes. “We’re not in a rush.”

“What’s the point in owning a sports car if I don’t open her up?” Nate flashes a grin, eyes on the road. “She only has five hundred miles on her. I need to break her in like a good little whore.”

I open Instagram and see what awaits me. There are always tons of messages, including images that make me want to bleach my eyeballs. Marriage proposals. Nudes and random body parts. All kinds of weird ass shit. So, I skip the DMs and go straight to the comments.

Earlier, I posted images of Nate and me prepping for our shoot. We’re laughing and smiling in the pics. Nate is bent over in one to place a puck on the ice for me.

“You’re the highlight of my Insta,” I tell him.

“Oh, yeah?” Nate stops at another light. “What are those thirsty bitches saying about me?”

I laugh at his choice of words and spot some of the same usernames from TikTok. These girls are relentless. Nate isn’t in the spotlight as much as I am. But whenever I post about us, the girls go wild.

They love Nate.

Of course, they do.

@PuckyGetLucky: Raise your hand if you thought about throwing a puck at Nate’s fine ass to see if it would bounce.

@Puckmeinthea: Love his bubble butt.

@Fangirl_Townie_69: I wanna take a bite out of dat ass.

@NYFanForEva178: The things I would let them do to me.

@HotForRiverR: Threesome, anyone?

@Puckmeinthea: Sign me up.

@NYFanForEva178: Too bad they don’t have an OnlyFans.

@Puckmeinthea: I’d empty my bank account to see them together.

@HotForRiverR: I’d gladly donate an organ to make that happen.

After I read a few of the comments to Nate, he laughs. “Like I said, thirsty bitches. Can you imagine how much money we’d make if we had an OnlyFans page?”

I stuff the phone into my pocket as we pull up outside our house. “My dad would love that.”

“If I needed the money, I would do it.” Nate winks. “Getting paid to do what I love is the dream, right? I’m not shy about my body or sex. I like when people watch me fuck.”

I can see the madness dancing across his face, the need to orgasm clawing at his carefully constructed veneer.

“Call the therapist tomorrow. Make an appointment. I’ll go with you.”

Nate pauses, his fingers brushing the door handle. “I can do it on my own.”

“No, you can’t.”

He sits back in his seat, stares at the three-story Victorian with painted shutters, and then glances at me. “I’m so angry, Riv. I wouldn’t be like this if?—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Nate.”

I can see him thinking about his fucked up childhood, the wheels turning in his head. We both know what started his obsession. It’s the reason his dad sent him to boarding school at the age of twelve. His shitty past is why I get to call this beautiful man my best friend. But I wish those horrible things hadn’t happened to him.

He’s so broken.

Scarred.

Nate swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t like talking about that part of my life. Especially not with strangers.”

“I’ll be there with you,” I say to assure him. “You get to decide what you talk about with the doctor.”

Nate grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I was there for Nate when he had nightmares and needed a hug. Sometimes, I roll over in the morning and find him in my bed, his head on my pillow. I secretly love those brief moments before he opens his eyes and realizes he’s clinging to me.

His addiction stems from a dark part of his life. And since I’m the one who pieced him back together, he needs me. Sharing women is not about the sex for us. Our bond goes much deeper, so I will never say no to Nate.