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nineteen

Hunter

M onty grabs his phone then flops onto his bed.

I’m exhausted. We played our asses off, and while the adrenaline of a win is always the best feeling, I can’t help wishing Mark was here.

Travelling sucks, but at least I get to room with Monty.

He’s the closest friend I have on this team, and I like rooming with him. “What are you doing?” he asks me.

I look up, watching Monty as I slip on sweats and a T-shirt, then grab my hoodie. “Going to call Mark. Just going out on the balcony.”

Monty nods. “His um . . . his friend uh . . . has he said anything about me?” I almost laugh.

Like, I get it, Noah is . . . Fuck, how do I even begin to put him into words.

He’s shameless, flirty, and absolutely outrageous.

That’s why seeing him with my very quiet, very reserved, and apparently closeted friend makes me laugh a little.

“Uh, yeah actually. He said hi when I saw him with Mark this morning.” And that he can’t remember your name, but that’s okay because it’s better than him giving you a nickname. “Can I ask what the deal is there?”

He shrugs, grabbing his phone and typing. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He looks up at me with his brown eyes. “All I know is that I haven’t had sex that good in like, ever. Man is a magician.” Monty looks away for a moment and I wait patiently. “Don’t say anything, please.”

“You know I won’t.”

“How did you know like . . . ya know?” I think for a moment about what to say to him. I’m not sure how he identifies at all, but Monty has had girlfriends before.

“I knew pretty early that women just didn’t do it for me.” Watching Alex Strongberg for the Oregon Otter’s when I was thirteen . . . well, fuck yes, that did it for me. I had the crush to end all crushes on the now-retired hockey winger. “How are you feeling? Can I ask how this even happened?”

I sit on his bed. I really want to call Mark, but I want to be here for my friend too.

I understand how hard it is to wrestle with feelings, and Monty’s a good guy.

“He gave me his room number after the game they came to. I was . . . I don’t know, curious.

I had this feeling when I saw him. I went to his room, he let me in, and he . . . I mean we, well—”

“Fucked?”

“No, I mean not that time. I—” His brows rise with the admission. “He just blew me, and I, uh . . . returned the favor. I liked it.” His cheeks pink a bit. “We had sex the second time and I—” His head falls back and he groans up at the ceiling. He scrubs his face. “I like women too.”

“You know bisexuality exists, right? You can like both. In fact, you can like whatever you want.”

“I don’t know. I um, I think I liked it better, though.

With Noah it was . . . different.” I’m not sure what Monty wants me to say.

Personally, sexuality shouldn’t be this complicated.

Like what you like. I know how narrow and ignorant that view is on the large scale of the world.

It’s not that simple, but it should be. Everyone should have the freedom to be exactly who they are.

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy, okay? Just give yourself time, and grace. Explore shit. Try with someone who isn’t Noah, and go from there. Labels are bullshit. Do what makes you happy.”

“Do people give you shit?” I suck my teeth, not sure how to answer. Honestly, college has been pretty easy. I went into it knowing I wasn’t going to hide my sexuality. High school, though, was not easy.

“My dad disowned me.” Monty’s face twists with shock. “And he kicked me out of our home when my mother died.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, well, after that I made a vow to never hide again. I am who I am, and being gay, being an athlete is no one’s fucking business.

I am who I am, and if someone hates who I am, I’d rather they know and fuck right off than let them affect me.

” Monty is quietly looking at his lap, and I wish I had some wisdom for him, but I don’t.

The truth is, if you hate me because I’m gay, then that’s your miserable life to live. Not mine, and not my business.

Again, I know it’s not that easy. “Thanks, Russo.”

“Anytime you want to talk to me I’m here, alright?

If you ever want to hang out and go to like a gay bar or something, I’ll go with you.

I’m here for you, alright? Whatever you need.

” I squeeze his leg, feeling a bit helpless.

“I’m going to call Mark. I think he’s with Noah right now, actually.

Maybe you should text him.” And distract him so I can talk to my boyfriend in peace.

“Yeah, I will. I appreciate this.”

I get up and go to the balcony, opening the sliding door.

The brisk air chills me, but I don’t mind it.

In fact, I like the cold. I like the way it feels during the fall and when it starts edging into winter.

It’s like time starts to slow. Sitting on one of the chairs, I sink into the softness and dial his number.

He picks up on the first ring. “Did you win?”

“That was fast,” I laugh. “Happy to hear from me?”

“I miss you. I know it’s only been since this morning, but I do. Now, did you win?”

“Yes.” I smile wider hearing Mark hoot and holler. “It was a great game. Six to two.”

“I wish I could have watched. I love watching you play.”

“Oh yeah? I love knowing you’re in the stands.” I haven’t felt like this, ever. Mark puts the biggest smile on my face. It’s like my whole body just eases, hearing him speak. “What are you guys doing?”

“Noah just went to take a shower. We cuddled and watched movies. It’s a lot less romantic than it sounds.

” That makes me laugh. I feel zero jealousy this time—well, maybe some.

I really wish it were me holding Mark right now.

“I was just sitting here seeing if I could find your game stats from tonight and you called.” I lean forward, looking through the glass door at my teammate on his phone, and with one hand down his pants.

Gross.

“Did Noah take his phone with him by any chance?”

“Uh . . .” Mark’s quiet for a moment. “It was on his desk but it’s not there now.” I lean forward again, looking at Monty. Well, I guess I’m not going to bed anytime soon. “Why?”

“I told Monty to text Noah, and I think they’re having phone sex right now.”

“Who?”

“The walk of shame guy from the other morning. He asked about Noah, and I told him to text him so I could have you to myself for a bit.”

“Oh,” Mark laughs. “Noah seems very fond of the hockey wife lifestyle.”

“Does Noah like him?” While I figure nothing much will come from this, Monty is softer than he looks.

“I think Noah likes many of your players.” He laughs. “Noah just wants some fun right now. He’s not looking for anything serious.” I look out at the city, feeling a warm calm wash over me. “Can we stop talking about my best friend?”

“Yes, of course. I insist.”

“Did you get hurt tonight?”

“Nothing bad. Still have all my teeth.”

“Glad to hear. Is it hard skating like that? Backwards, and stuff like that. I’d be so afraid to crash into the panels.”

I smile. “They’re called the boards.”

“Well, either way, I’d be afraid.”

“I’ve been doing it all my life. Honestly, it’s all second nature to me.” Playing hockey is as easy as going for a jog. I love it.

“Do you have a favorite team?”

“The Oregon Otters. They’ve had some queer players come out in the last few years, but I mean, I’ve always loved them.

Their captain, Oliver Kulivov, is one of my favorites.

Their goalie is also sick. I have some other teams I watch, but nothing compares to watching the Otters play. That’s the team Coach played on.”

“Why’d he stop?”

“He got injured, but I don’t really know the full story.

A lot of it was kept from the public, and at that time there were other bigger news stories happening.

He’s never really shared why he chose to go into coaching instead, but he was a fantastic player and almost beat some records. He’s a great coach too.”

“It must be amazing to play for him.” It is, but while I love talking about hockey, I really want to talk about Mark. He hasn’t opened up much about his personal life outside of college.

“It is. What things did you do in high school?” Mark is silent for a minute, and I look at my phone to make sure my signal didn’t drop out. Leaning forward, I see Monty well stroking his dick inside his sweats now. Gross . “Mark?”

“I didn’t do much, really.”

“What about your games?”

“We um, we moved around a lot. All over the US, and then sometimes to other countries. We lived in Germany for two years and then Japan for one. My father’s a lawyer, and he travels a lot for his clients.

We moved to New York in my junior year and my mother asked if we could stay so I could finish out high school. I was always the new kid.”

“Wow, what was that like?”

“Horrible.” Mark admits. “I didn’t have many friends. I was . . . I was always the weird new kid. My mother thought that by staying in one place it would help me make friends, but by then it was a bit too late. I was picked on a lot.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry, babe.”

“It’s alright, really. I guess I was used to it.

I had my games and my sketches—they helped in a way.

I had a lot of alone time to plan my games.

My grandfather, he—” I hear him take a breath.

“My grandfather always loved hearing about the things I wanted to create. He lived in Sweden, so sometimes it was hard to call him, but we used to write letters.” Mark laughs.

“Like we were pen pals. Every week I’d have something new from him.

I’d send him sketches and then he’d reply back with his thoughts. ”

“Do you still have them all?”

“In a box. I uh, brought them with me when I started college. I read them sometimes, when I have a bit of a creative block. He was so smart. I wish you could have met him.”

“Did he pass away?”