Page 36 of Puck Shots (Love The Game #6)

Cosmo

Two years later

“The game replay is starting,” Eli yells out just as I close our apartment door behind me. “Oh, and welcome home.”

I call it our place, even though Eli hasn’t officially moved in yet, but he spends at least three nights a week here instead of at the frat house, and I’m hoping the second he graduates, he’ll spend every night forever here with me.

“Thanks, I’ll just be one second,” I call back and kick off my shoes, leaving them in the pile that sits by the door.

Luka bought me an organizer thing, but it’s full, so the floor is good enough.

I’ll be putting those shoes on again tomorrow, anyway.

I hadn’t seen Luka in weeks until today.

He plays for Philly now, while I’m still contracted to Boston, and tonight we played our first game against each other.

Fuck, it was weird not being able to shoot him the puck.

We can still read each other’s moves pretty well, too, which meant he knew when to block me and I knew when he was going to take a shot.

Our ability to read each other is probably why our coaches kept us on the ice at the same time.

Though if he can just get traded back here, we can put that best friend’s intuition to better use playing together.

“Did you win? Is Luka okay?”

I jog up the narrow hallway, sliding the last three feet on my socks into the living room where Eli is sitting on our brown leather couch, nursing a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“You haven’t seen the score yet?” I ask, and he responds with a headshake.

“I haven’t long gotten home myself. I still can’t believe I had to miss your home game. I swear once I graduate, I’ll be at every single one.”

“It’s okay, besides, this way I get to watch you watch me.”

“Did you invite Luka over?”

“He had to get back to Philly, but he said to say hi. How were classes and work?” I ask, plonking down beside him.

“Classes were full on, and it’s an internship, so not really work, but it was good.

Also, your move,” he says, nodding to the ongoing chess game in the middle of our coffee table.

It’s his set, though I have contributed to a few upgrades of the pieces, finding some really cool things on our walks together along the woods behind the frat house every night when I was still there.

I move my rook to F3 to defend against his attack, then lean back on the couch, throw my arm over his shoulder, and pull him in, kissing the top of his head as he snuggles in close.

He’s been interning at Oskar Performance Labs in between his classes for the past year.

It’s a high-tech facility that has him continuing his athletic analysis program to implement it in multiple sports.

He retains the patent for it, but the company has invested in the development for a percentage of the future profits and some kind of non-exclusive license to use it while he’s interning at their facility.

I wasn’t so sure if he was getting a good deal or not, but he’s happy, and that’s what matters to me.

“Are you really not going to tell me if you won or not?”

“Nope,” I reply, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into my mouth, mumbling. “Can’t talk. Eating.”

“Well, you’re in pretty good mood, so I’d say you did alright.”

He laughs, shrugging my way, then turns back to the television. The puck is dropped, and the game is off to a pretty shitty start for me.

“Come on, Lewis, he was right there,” I yell.

“It’s a replay, Hun. Plus, you were there, you already saw this.”

“Not from that angle. Fuck, come onnnnn.”

Eli chuckles.

“Give it to me already. How far in are we, shit, get them, come on. Fuck, no. Yes! Great save, Reddy, let’s gooooo.”

The starter goalie was out tonight so it was awesome getting Reddy in there to prove what he’s got. He did amazing too. As fast as the game feels when you’re out there on the ice, it can be just as fast watching it on television.

“Yay, you got the puck. Okay, here we go,” Eli says, passing me the popcorn bowl and leaning forward in his seat.

I see my stats pop up on the corner of the screen.

As much as I loved my nickname through college, it’s actually really nice seeing my real name up there.

The camera pans the crowd, and people are wearing my jersey, holding signs with my name and number, cheering for me in a real NHL game, and fuck, this feeling will never get old.

“That was a nice crossover, perfect technique,” Eli says, and my chest warms at the compliment. “Cool, tight turn, too, you’re killing it out there.”

It was only a few years ago that Eli was totally lost in a conversation about hockey, how fast things can change. One thing that hasn’t changed, is my feelings for him.

“Oh, come on, he should have rotated left, you saw that, right?”

“I’m just here for the chaos and cuddles,” Eli says, snuggling back into my side.

He tilts his head to look at me. I lean down and kiss him, soft and sweet. His warm lips parted slightly, making my cock twitch.

“You’re missing the reply,” I whisper before kissing him again.

“I’m good with that. I don’t need you on replay. I’ll take your love in real time.”

“It’s yours. Forever.”

***

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