Page 7

SEVEN

jack

“I’m glad you decided to take me up on my offer,” Sam says with a bright smile when I walk over to his table at Electric Lunch on Thursday night.

He cranes his neck, searching for something behind me.

“Where are the guys? You invited them, right?”

He earns an exaggerated eye roll in response.

“Relax, Dad. I invited them, just like you told me to. If they show up, they show up. It’s not a big deal either way.”

And I mean it…

for the most part.

I’ve never really connected with the guys I played with before, so if it doesn’t happen here in Oakland, it’s no skin off my back.

Besides, making friends means letting people in and there’s a whole lot of dark shit that I don’t want them to see.

But VK…he’s a different story.

A hint of panic has twisted in my gut since we got our hotel room assignments for this upcoming weekend in Ohio.

I knew it was coming, but seeing our names listed together made it very fucking real.

Looking back, we weren’t close at first since I kept everyone at arm’s length.

But as time went on and we became friends, I started to feel something else build between us…

every time I’d catch him staring, I’d be assaulted by the kind of chills that had nothing to do with the fact that we were spending our days and nights in the frigid ice rink.

It was like he saw more than the other guys, that he was watching me closely, that he wanted to study and understand me.

At the time, I figured it was because he was into me.

And back then, being a gay athlete was pretty taboo, so it didn’t surprise me that he never acted on anything.

You had to be really careful about who you trusted.

I never took a risk with any other guy on the team because you don’t shit where you eat.

Until the night I made a huge fucking mistake by kissing Carter.

I didn’t realize it was one-sided until it was too late.

And when he rejected me, I reacted like a total dick.

I attacked his game and broke him down just like he’d done to me.

It stung to think he only became friends with me because he was constantly trying to be better and figured studying the best would make him the best, or at least, close to it.

I never thought I’d cross paths with the guy again after that.

He was good, but to make the NHL, you had to be in-fucking-credible, and he just wasn’t at that point, at least in junior hockey.

But he clearly worked his ass off and made it against the odds.

I’d never experienced those kind of emotions for another guy, and his blatant rejection hurt like a bitch.

So when I took off and scored that coveted spot with the San Mateo Condors, it felt good to leave that part of my life behind.

But damn, I got tired of burying my past.

Laugh’s on me now.

The only way for me to ignore the inconvenient feelings that trigger me every time I catch him staring is to focus on something else.

So I’m killing two birds with one stone and trying to be a team player for the first time in my hockey career.

If I concentrate on the game, I won’t get sucked back into those fantasies of “what might have been” again.

Inviting him here tonight before we’re thrown together for the weekend was just a way to clear the very fucking tense air that seems to swarm us every time we’re in the same room.

Although, with fantasies of him watching me in the shower swirling through my mind way more often than I want to admit, I’m not sure how effective my grand plan will actually be.

Knowing he’s gonna be naked in our shared shower, hot, wet, soaping up every inch of his body when I’m just a few feet away with the knowledge that he’s straight?

Damn. That’s gonna be torture of the worst kind.

“You look like you’re a million miles away,” Sam says, handing me a beer.

“What’s up?”

Christ, does he have to be so observant all the time?

But Sam never was one to let anyone lament in silence.

“Just thinking about the game this weekend.” I take a long gulp of beer.

“Trying to get my head right.”

“I think it’ll be really good for you. Being on the road is a perfect way to get to know the team better. Who are you rooming with?”

“VK,” I say, clearing my throat.

“I knew him from junior hockey.”

“That’s cool. I’ve always heard he’s a good guy. Speaking of the devil,” Sam says, nodding at the door at the far end of the space.

I turn to look over my shoulder, casually sipping my beer.

And what I see sends the cold liquid shooting down the wrong pipe, launching me into a choking fit.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks as I sputter and cough.

“Yeah,” I finally rasp, just in time for VK to make his way over to the table, a petite blonde with huge tits clutching his arm.

Her tiny black tank top skims the bottom of her bra, her jeans low enough to expose the edge of her hot pink thong.

Classy.

“Ohmygod!” she cries out.

“This is so insane. I can’t believe I’m going to meet Sin City!”

Red spots creep into VK’s cheeks.

“Ah, well, I said maybe .”

She jumps up and down when the roadies make their way onto the stage and start arranging equipment.

I roll my eyes at Sam for the second time, but he only smiles at the girl.

“Anything for friends of Jack,” he says graciously.

VK sticks his hand out.

“Thanks for the invite. I’m a big fan.”

“Likewise,” Sam says, turning his attention to the blonde.

“Sam Hartley. And you are?”

Obviously a fucking puck bunny groupie.

“Livvie,” she says with wide eyes.

“I recognize you. You’re engaged to Brixton Scott. That is just the coolest thing ever, to be marrying such a superstar. You guys must have the most glamorous life together.”

I try to swallow a snort but it escapes before I can pull it back.

“You know, Sam’s a pretty big deal himself,” I say to the girl, knowing I sound like a condescending asshole, but betting she won’t even realize it.

Her jaw drops open and her attention flies back to Sam.

“So you’re really famous, too?”

“Well, I?—”

“Don’t let him his modesty fool you. He’s the best tight end in the NFL.” I wink at Sam and he chuckles.

“Way better than Travis Kelce.”

“Wait, so you know Travis Kelce? Is he coming tonight?” Livvie gasps.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod! Do you think he’ll bring Taylor?”

I bite back a laugh when I look at VK.

His face is borderline purple right now.

He clears his throat and motions to me.

“This is Jack Larson. He also plays for Oakland.” He pauses.

“Jack’s the one who got us the passes to get in tonight.”

“Thank you so much!” she squeals and claps her hands together.

“I am so excited, I could pee myself right now!”

Charming.

VK brings a hand to the back of his neck and pastes on a forced smile.

Is he seriously fucking kidding me with this girl?

Sam offers Livvie a beer but she waves it away.

“Thanks, but there are way too many carbs in that. I only do lite beer.”

I guzzle the rest of mine and snatch the bottle from Sam’s hand.

“Thanks, I love carbs.”

VK flashes a hint of a smile in my direction.

Livvie smooths the back of her hair down.

It’s so long, it skims her ass.

Maybe it’ll get caught on someone passing by our table and they’ll end up dragging her away.

Hopefully permanently.

“Lane Maxwell is so hot. He’s totally on my list, by the way, so you’d better hope I don’t get any alone time with him,” Livvie says to VK, giving him a nudge.

She turns toward the stage and I stare at her, silently willing her head to explode.

It probably wouldn’t even make a mess since odds are that it’s completely empty.

“Do you want to meet him?” Sam asks.

“The guys usually hang out afterward, but It’s a pretty chill show tonight and I’m heading back there to tell Brixton to break a leg.” He nods toward the stage.

“Come on, I’ll take you back for a few minutes.”

Livvie’s hands fly up to her overfilled lips.

“Yes!”

She doesn’t even wait for Sam before she runs toward the stage.

“So, Livvie is really something.” I slant a look at VK.

“You guys must have some insightful conversations.”

He clears his throat.

“Yeah, she’s, ah, pretty cool.”

I grit my teeth and pick at the corner of the bottle label.

“You guys been seeing each other long? I mean, you just got out here, right?”

He rubs the back of his neck again and averts his eyes.

“She and I dated on and off when I played for Washington. When I got traded, she moved down here to go to school.”

I nod.

“Stanford, right?”

He slices into me with a look.

“Cosmetology school, actually.”

A tight smile stretches across my face.

“Well, at least you’ll always look pretty.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the table.

I really have to stop sounding like a jealous, jilted ex.

It’s his life, his choice to be with that dim bulb.

There’s nothing between us and there never will be, so why should I give a damn?

“Hey, guys,” Masterson’s booming voice jerks me from my thoughts.

He and Tate appear at the table, all smiles with a pack of hot young girls surrounding them.

Sam walks back over and I make the introductions, noticing that Livvie is still MIA.

Backstage.

A tiny part of me feels bad for VK.

He talks to the guys, but I don’t miss his glance over at the far end of the stage.

A rush of anger floods me.

If this isn’t proof that Livvie is a complete dipshit, I don’t know what is.

Lane Maxwell is a great guy.

He’s talented as hell, too.

But he’s also a notorious playboy who gets more ass than a toilet seat.

How the hell could she even look Lane’s way when she’s got VK on her arm?

I squeeze my bottle tight, fingertips turning white when the minutes pass and she still doesn’t appear.

Sam elbows me while the guys talk with their new groupies.

He leans toward me, dropping his voice.

“What’s up? You look pissed off.”

I shrug and drain the rest of my beer.

“Nah. I’m fine. Gonna get another drink.”

I let go of the bottle and walk over to the bar.

One of the bartenders smiles at me.

“What can I get you, Mr. Larson?”

“Macallan. Make it a double,” I say, forcing a smile.

“You’ve got it.” She disappears and I drum my fingers on the wooden bar, a deep sigh shuddering my shoulders.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice says.

“I just wanted to say that I’m rooting for you guys this weekend.”

I turn to look at the person intruding on my inner battle, ready to cut him loose before he can get started when his dark eyes bore into me.

“I’m a big fan,” he continues, his voice dripping with suggestion.

“I was hoping to buy you a drink.”

“You’re a little late,” I say, picking up the glass the bartender just put in front of me.

He shrugs, unruffled.

“That just means I’ll have to wait for you to finish it so I can order you another one.”

“And do I give off the vibe that I want company right now?” I ask.

“I think if you give me a few minutes, the answer to that question will most definitely be yes.” His bitable lips curl into a knowing grin, exposing perfect teeth.

Dark hair, just the right length to fist and tug, falls forward over his searing gaze, his stubbled chin sexy as fuck.

I tip the shot glass back and finish the drink in one gulp.

He points at the now-empty glass.

“So you either want to get rid of me fast,” he says, moving closer.

“Or you’re curious enough to keep me here for another drink. Which is it?”

A half-smirk tilts my lips.

“Half the fun is guessing, yeah?”

“As long as the other half makes me right.”

Tingles tickle the skin on the back of my neck, almost like a warning.

I turn my gaze away from the guy for a split second, until it meets VK’s.

Livvie is back, crawling all over him but his focus is on me.

His eyes look curious, but more than that, I see pity in his stare.

And I fucking hate that more than anything.

I yank my focus back.

I need to get a grip, for Christ’s sake.

Pining after a straight guy isn’t a good look.

He’s got his Playboy bunny girlfriend to keep his dick occupied.

I need to find someone to keep my dick warm.

“Are you ready?” the guy asks me, a knowing look on his face.

“For a drink?”

“For anything.” The guy moves closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

“And everything.”

My heart hammers in my chest.

And I tell myself that if I just close my eyes, he can be anyone.