Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Andry

My entire life trajectory just changed.

Who was that? The tiny guy with the glasses and the nervous stare is all I can think about right now. I want to go inside the library, hunt him down, and demand he tell me everything about him.

That would be too much though. American customs are different. I believe it’s called ‘being forceful’ or something.

I’d call it being direct.

Why should I pretend I’m not interested when all I want is more time with him?

Stupid differences.

I wait another minute to ensure he isn’t coming back out after I leave. If he ran off because he was spooked, then I’d have to apologize by taking him on a nice, romantic date where I could show him how perfect we are together.

After another five minutes of waiting, I accept that fate isn’t going to be as kind to me today as I’d like. I take off for the gym to get in an early workout. It’s part of my personal schedule to keep myself performing better than my competition.

No one has ever or will ever catch me slacking.

I drop my bags in the locker room, then head to the weight room. After a few minutes of warming up on the treadmill, I go about doing the sequence my trainer back in Russia put together for me. It’s a combination of bodyweight movement, mobility work, and dynamic lifts with lighter weights.

Anyone watching me would think I didn’t know what I’m doing. They’d try to call me out for not taking my workout seriously. What they don’t know is all this shit — the stuff people think is unnecessary — is what has taken me to the top of my game. It’s made me worth getting a full ride scholarship as a foreign exchange student, and it’s what will get me a first-round draft pick.

I’m on my final circuit when some of the team walks in for morning conditioning. They watch me with confused looks, though none call me out for what I’m doing. I’m not sure if they’re scared because of my size, or if it’s more that they’re still trying to figure me out.

Honestly, I don’t give a fuck either way.

I’m not here to make friends with them. I’m here to win.

They’ll either help me, or they’ll get out of my way. Those are their options.

“What the hell is all this?” Parnap says as he approaches me surrounded by a squad of yes men. “I didn’t know you had a whole routine planned.”

He chuckles, which signals the others to laugh. They don’t do it as confidently as him. Maybe it’s the empty stare I shoot their way. It could also be the fact that when I lift my shirt to take it off, my muscles are fully on display, proving I don’t need their opinions about what I’m doing.

“No need to worry about me, Captain. I’m more than on time for conditioning.”

He sneers at me, his friendly expression gone in a flash. “Listen here you foreign fucker?—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Coach comes in and blows a whistle. “Parnap! What the fuck are you doing? You want to kiss the new kid, do it somewhere else. It’s time to get to work.”

I watch as Parnap jolts at the accusation. He’d gotten close in an attempt to intimidate me. Instead of looking like a threat, everyone on the outside saw what looked like a seduction attempt.

Grinning at him, I let his anger build before turning to check in with Coach. There’s no need to push his buttons any further today. Whatever mood he’s in will work itself out.

And if it doesn’t, then my time on the ice will prove to them all why I earned my spot here.

By the time conditioning is over, it’s obvious these guys need more motivation to get to the next level. I outlasted every single one of them, which is a shame since I’d already done an hour of work before practice.

I shower quickly, then stop by Coach’s office like he asked me to. “You wanted to speak with me?”

He motions me in the room. “Have a seat, Rykov. How are things so far? Anyone giving you trouble besides Liam?”

“Not at all. And he’s really not bothering me.” Yet.

The look Coach throws my way tells me he knows what I’m thinking. Liam will likely be a problem this semester. He’ll likely be an even bigger issue once word gets out I’m gay if his reaction to our closeness earlier is anything to go by. Too bad though. I have zero intentions of hiding it. Especially not when I intend to pursue the guy I ran into earlier.

I have to find him first though.

It’s on my list of things to do this week. I doubt he’ll be thrown in my path again today.

“That’s good. I have a feeling you’re going to ruffle a few feathers. The boys aren’t used to being challenged,” Coach says when I don’t elaborate further.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

He nods to me, basically giving me the green light that our conversation is done. I’ve learned he’s not a very talkative man. His gestures and expressions say more than his words do.

Should I tell him about my sexuality up front? Would it be a good idea to see how he feels about it as a backup in case things escalate?

I clear my throat. “There is one thing I want to talk to you about before I go.”

His gaze holds mine. A calm settles over me. No matter what comes next, I know I’m good at hockey. He can’t kick me off the team, nor can he discriminate me for who I like to fuck. There are legal protections in place, along with a code of conduct from the school. I triple checked before I accepted the offer.

“I’m gay.”

Coach snorts. “Ok, and?”

“Well, I wanted you to know in case it’s an issue for the team. I’m not in the closet, nor do I want to be.”

In fact, there’s a fucking gorgeous guy I want to track down and claim right this minute.

Of course, I don’t say that out loud. No need to make this more awkward.

Though, really, Coach is handling it better than I imagined he would. My research about America prepared me to face some close-minded ways. It’s not all that far off from Russian ideals about the perfect family and good work ethic.

“Son, I don’t care where you get release unless it affects my team. Do you want to fuck a teammate?”

I nearly gag at the suggestion. My fellow athletes are not who I’m attracted to.

“Not at all, Coach.”

He leans back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “Then there’s no issue on my end. You might have some guys talk shit. Just ignore them. Some of the biggest athletes in this town are gay and proud. They wouldn’t dare say it to any of their faces. You’re on the path to being on that level. Don’t let their jealousy and bigoted mindsets tear you down.”

Shit.

That’s kind of poetic.

At least, for a hockey coach it is.

“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate you.”

I leave his office feeling better than before. Grabbing my bag I’d left in the main area, I turn to leave, only to stop when I hear the guys talking shit about some guy named Rodney. They throw around some not-so-nice names, though none are homophobic or hateful. It’s shit people say when they’re jealous of someone else.

Whoever this Rodney guy is, Liam sure has a hard-on for him. Poor guy.

My first class of the day is one of my basic courses: English. While everyone else might find the curriculum straightforward, I’m already concerned about how I’ll keep my grade up. It’s the subject I’m most likely to fail by far.

I get to the lecture hall with ease. Taking a seat near the middle of the room, I pull out a notebook and prepare myself to do my very best. My grades have to stay high enough for hockey. I also need them to be good to keep my scholarship.

A lot is riding on me passing the class.

The rest of the room fills up as the clock ticks down to the start of the lecture. I’m both excited to get started, while also dreading the upcoming lessons.

Except, my dread turns to joy when the professor walks in with a familiar face behind him. It’s the guy from the library.

He doesn’t look up at first, his focus on the papers in his hand and whatever the professor is telling him. Even as they finish talking, the Library Guy takes a seat on the front row.

“Good morning, students. Welcome to English 1001. I’m Professor Pliet. My office hours are listed in the email I scheduled to go out to you right now.” There’s the ding of several people’s computers all at once, which makes the man in front of us smile. “As I was saying, I expect you all to follow the syllabus and complete assignments on time. This course is not difficult, though it is tedious at times. So long as you stay on top of your work, you should pass with no issues.”

I listen to every word he says intently, waiting for him to give some kind of indication of who the Library Guy is. Instead, I’m left without any more information.

At the end of class, I stand to rush toward the front of the room. Before I can get far, the other students take off to head up the stairs. With my substantial size, I’m able to see over their heads as Library Guy leaves through the door he and the professor came through.

The change doesn’t stop me. Instead of going after him like I want, I approach the professor with a forced easy smile. “Good morning, sir. I introduce self. I am the Andry Rykov, foreign exchange student for the Bellport,” I say with a thick accent to really ham it up.

Is this how I really talk? No.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

His eyes light up. “Ah, yes! Welcome, Andry. I hope you’ve found America to be welcoming.”

“Yes! Very much. It is, how you say, delightfell.”

“Delightful, you must mean. Well, that’s good. Is there anything I can help you with? Do you have questions about the syllabus?”

I shake my head, then nod. “Not the syl-bus. But I do have question. The man with you. Glasses. Short. His name is…”

“Rodney? I’m mentoring him. Do you know him?”

“No, sir. I ran into him accident this morning. Should to apologize him.”

He pats my shoulder and laughs. “I’m sure there was no problem. Rodney’s a good guy. He wouldn’t get mad for something like that.”

I bristle at the dismissal. Having his name is one thing, but it’s not enough. I want more.

“What is mentor?”

Forgive me, Mother Russia for using you in such a vain way.

The professor goes into this elaborate explanation about how he helps Rodney with his thesis since he’s apparently a genius who already has a PhD and is working on another. Even I know that’s not your everyday level of smart.

By the time he’s done raving about the other man, I realize I’m going to be late to my next class. I thank him for his time, then set off to the next building.

Rodney, Rodney.

You can run, but you can’t hide.

I will find you, and then you’ll be mine, little genius.