Page 19 of Puck Shots (Love The Game #6)

Eli

W hen Cosmo scored that goal I couldn’t help but cheer.

It’s easy to get caught up in the mob mentality of the crowd, but it wasn’t just that.

It was him. The way it felt like he kept looking back at me, checking I was there.

Checking that I was watching before he went for it.

It was like he was trying to make the slap shot for me instead of for his team or himself.

But that’s silly. He can’t have been actually looking at me.

It’s probably one of those tricks of the light, like the old paintings like Reginals Ducksworth whose eyes follow you around the room.

But old paintings appear that way because they are two-dimensional.

The artist creates the illusion that the eyes are looking right at you regardless of where you are in the room by painting the shadows and light on the painting.

It’s all about perspective. I guess my perspective, tracking Cosmo who is very much a three-dimensional person, is being affected by the volume of bodies in my peripheral vision.

He could realistically be looking at anyone in a ten-seat radius and I’d still feel like his eyes were on me.

I heard a few of the guys at training say they expected scouts here tonight, so he was probably looking for them.

I wander slowly along the path towards the frat house, the approximately five-thousand spectators making their way home all at once.

It always blows my mind how so many people can fit in spaces like these.

Normally, the number would totally freak me out, but after being there a few times now and clocking all the emergency exits, I find I can sit in my allocated seat and watch the game, mostly unaffected.

“Wooo, Boston rules!” a clearly drunk guy yells as I’m shoved sideways, and he stumbles past. I manage to steady myself before falling, he’s not so lucky and tumbles off the path onto the grass, landing flat on his back.

“I’m good,” he cheers, hands raised.

“Sorry,” a girl calls, jogging past without actually looking at me. She grabs his hands and tries to pull him to his feet, but he’s got a good fifty pounds on her, and as drunk as he is, he’s practically a dead weight.

“Do you want help?” I ask but she either doesn’t hear me or is choosing to ignore me.

I’m used to being invisible. I’ve been trying really hard not to let myself stay in the comfort of the norm in the house.

Putting myself out there and actually getting to know the guys in the house is the only way I will get the votes to stay.

I’m not holding my breath, though. It would suck to have to leave.

I know I didn’t really see myself as a frat kind of guy when I came here, and I’m still not entirely sure I am one, but I know it would be hard to leave, and Cosmo is one hundred percent the reason why.

Urgh, I have to stop crushing on him. He’s totally out of my league.

While I am invisible to almost the entire human population, he’s a brilliant spotlight drawing every eye in the room right to that gorgeous smile and blue-gray eyes.

My phone chimes, and I swipe it open to check the message.

COSMO:

You still at the rink?

ME:

Was just about to head back to the house.

I send off my reply, already turning and heading back the way I came.

COSMO:

Want to walk back together? I’m on my way out the back gate now.

ME:

Sure, meet you there in a sec.

I can’t believe he wants to walk back with me.

Is this some frat prank? No, he’d never do that.

My stomach churns with the guilt of even thinking he’d do something like that.

We’ve become friends, at least I think we are.

Sure, I’ve fantasized more than once about us being more than that, but I always come back to the reality that he’s just a nice guy and looking out for me. But what if it’s more?

My heart is pounding as I take off at a slow jog towards the rink.

I’d only left about five minutes ago and had been strolling slowly under the starlit sky, replaying Cosmo’s moves on the ice.

The back gate is actually closer to the path I’m on, so it doesn’t take me long to get there, and with my throat burning and my heart beating at superspeed in my ears, I manage to get there just before he walks out.

“Great game tonight,” I say as soon as I see him, and his smile grows wide.

“Thanks to you.”

“You made the shot.”

“The look on their faces was gold, did you see the goalie do a double take?”

I frown. “That’s when they like look at something twice, right?”

He nudges my side.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Thought so, was just checking it didn’t have some secret hockey meaning separate from the usual definition of the term. But now that I think about it, he actually looked back and forth from you and the puck in his net three times, so it was a triple take. Is that a thing?”

“It should be.”

My cheeks warm under his gaze, and I quickly turn my attention to the path ahead.

“You didn’t want to go out and celebrate the win with the team?” I ask as we head toward home.

“We’ve got another game tomorrow, so no celebrations tonight for anyone. Most of the team are still showering and getting changed.”

“You didn’t shower?”

“I did, but do I smell?” he asks, eyebrows pinched together as he sniffs his underarm.

I laugh. “Yes.”

“Seriously,” he asks, sniffing the other arm.

“Everyone smells, but you don’t smell bad. You smell…good. Like mint, actually,” I say, taking another long breath of him. He smiles and relaxes a little.

“Thanks again for all your help. Luka was like a gun out there; he was telling all the guys about you in the locker room afterward, too. I told them how you helped with my super-speed slap shot. Some of the guys even told the trainers they should ask you to show them the program, maybe they can use it to help improve everyone’s game. ”

“I figured it’s the least I could do, seeing as you’ve been helping me so much with the frat stuff. We will find out soon if I made it, and your obligation will be over.”

He stops walking and looks at me deadpan.

“Is that what you think you are?”

I shrug. “John asked your brother to see if you’d keep an eye out for me, so…yeah, I guess.”

He takes a step closer, my heart thundering inside my chest, waiting for him to speak, but he lowers his gaze and reaches out slowly and takes my hands in his.

The faded lightning bolt on his inner wrist catches the light.

He’s always got one there, drawn in black marker.

I keep meaning to ask him about it. But I can’t seem to find any words right now as the warmth of his touch spreads up my arms and fills my chest with something more dangerous than getting on the ice with him. Hope.

“My brother asked if I’d make sure no one messed with you.

That’s it,” he says, his gaze still on our joined hands.

I’m surprised I can even hear him over the beating of my heart.

It’s so loud that I’m sure it’s about ready to burst free from my chest. But I’m a science guy, and I know that can’t really happen, no matter how much it feels like it will.

“I sort of figured the rest was, you know…connected. Like a chain reaction,” I say in a whisper. I can’t look away from where his thumbs brush lightly over the backs of my hands. Does he know he’s doing that or is it an automatic movement like walking or breathing?

“I don’t know what the brothers’ decision will be, and I don’t know if you even, or if we could. Like I don’t know what this means for everything else, but…”

Is he nervous? My chest fills up like a balloon at the thought that I somehow made Cosmo nervous.

It’s kind of adorable watching him awkwardly stumble through his words.

He’s normally the cool guy, striding through the crowd with ease, talking comes easy to him, but not right now.

Right now, he’s struggling to string together a full sentence.

“Cos, whatever it is you can tell me,” I say, and he looks right at me then, his blue-gray eyes filled with light.

“I like you,” he says, and if I hadn’t been able to see his lips move when he did, I am not sure I would have believed my ears.

“I like you, too,” I say, the words coming way easier than expected.

He shakes his head like he disagrees.

“No, I mean, I like you, like you.”

A chuckle escapes my lips, and he goes to pull away, but I hold on and step closer.

“That’s what I meant, too. I like you like you as well.”

“Really?”

I nod, and he releases one hand but laces the fingers of the other with mine and we start to walk again. His grip is firm but not tight, and I kind of love the way his arm rests against mine as we stroll along the path towards the frat house.

We don’t talk for the longest time. I keep glancing down at our joined hands, half expecting to look and find I’m not holding onto anything and this was all some kind of fantasy like all the other times. It’s amazing to think all the signals I was sure I was imagining were actually not in my head.

“So there is this film festival in the quad tomorrow, they’re showing last year’s student-produced top-marked films. Did you maybe want to go?” Cosmo asks as we take the path that leads along the back of the frat houses and past the woods I love so much.

“Sure. Are you going with a bunch of guys from the house or your team?” I ask, and I watch his cheeks warm under the low lights.

“Some of the frat brothers will probably be going. There are a few who take a Storytelling for Film and Television course, and Luka and I were extras in one of their films last year, but I was thinking we could just go. You know. Just us?”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to. It was just an idea,” he says before I get a chance to finish my thought.

“No, I want to. I was just…surprised.”

He looks down at me with a small smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“By what? That I want to spend time with you around other people?”

I shrug.

“I guess so. Yeah.”

He stops, and using his free hand, he brushes my hair behind my ear.

“You are adorable, you know that?” he asks, and I know my face must be as bright as an apple with how hot I feel, but I can’t look away.

His tongue swipes over his lower lip as his gaze moves briefly to my mouth and back up.

“I’ve never really been good at hiding who I date, but if that’s what you need—”

“No,” I blurt, and his face lights up in a wide smile. “I want to be seen with you.”

He laughs, and I shake my head.

“I mean, I don’t want to hide away either. I’m cool with it being just us. That’s what I meant,” I say, and he cups the side of my face with his hand, and a terrifying but also fucking incredible thought crosses my mind. Is he going to kiss me?

“Good, because you really shouldn’t hide that pretty face away.”

His gaze momentarily moves to my mouth again, and I wonder, should I kiss him?

But before I can make up my mind between that being the best idea I’ve ever had and a sure-fire way to screw this up by going too fast, he makes the decision for me and the second his mouth is on mine, the entire world disappears.

This is nothing like the dream of kissing him. It’s better, way better. His mouth fits perfectly with mine, warm and soft. His tongue teases at my lips, and when they part and it melds with mine, his hand slips to the back of my neck, fingers lacing through my hair as he pulls me closer.

I’m half hard already, and even though we’re pressed together, it’s like my body can’t get close enough. I need him like I need breath. Like I’ve been adrift at sea in the sweltering heat, and he’s the rain I prayed for.

It’s better than any fantasy and dream, any thought of what this could be, because this is real. This is him. This is us.

I have no idea how much time passes when we finally come up for air, but he’s got a pink glow around his mouth from the slight scruff on my face, and judging by the tingle around my lips, I’m guessing I do, too.

“That was…”

“Amazing,” I finish.

“That’s exactly what it was.”

“Should we…” I ask, gesturing to the path ahead.

“Yeah, we should. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I beat Sam in chess yesterday,” I say and start us on our walk again, arms swinging in time with our step, a goofy happy look on his face.

“I would have paid to see that. Did he take it well? Tell me he chucked a giant tantrum like a toddler?”

“Ha, no, he took it great. He did say he was recovering from a cold and asked for a rematch next week, though.”

“That guy hasn’t been sick in the entire time I’ve known him.” He laughs. “Can I watch next time?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I want…” he replies, the words hanging there like he might want to add something else but he doesn’t, and we continue walking all the way back to the house, talking about chess and hockey and classes, and it’s perfect.