Page 7

ALEXEI

Hi it’s Stefanos, Madison said you were looking for a roommate, maybe I could come and take a look at the place?

W ho the fuck is Stefanos, and Madison?

I ignore the message for now and get on with my work-out.

It’s only when my bank pings me again to remind me I’m in my overdraft – even deeper now – that I read the text again.

“What’s up man?”

Pawlowski takes the machine next to mine and starts racking up the weights.

“Nothing, just this roommate shit.”

“Oh yeah, I gave my sister your number.” Brown shouts from the other side of the room. Big ears.

Someone wolf whistles until he gives them a death stare. “Not for that man! For the roommate.”

“You want your sister to live with Simakov?” Hoffman asks.

“Hey, if you can trust anyone around your sister it’s Cap.” Brown jokes with a shit-eating grin.

My blood boils and shame tints my face before I ask. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re saving it for marriage right? Aren’t you like an Orthodox Catholic?”

Shit, yeah, I did tell them I was saving my virginity for marriage so they’d get off my back about setting me up with girls. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Hey man, I respect it,” he goes on. “I wasn’t clowning you about it.”

Great, now I’ve acted like a dick in front of all my teammates.

I try to laugh it off. “Don’t sweat it. And thanks for asking round, I’m kinda getting desperate with this roommate situation.”

“Desperate enough to live with Brown’s sister?” Hoffman asks with a grin. Brown smacks him on the chest.

“It’s not for my sister, dick , I thought she might know someone in her class or in the band or something.”

“What kind of band?” Pawlowski perks up. “The marching band?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t listen to half the shit she says.”

“That’s just lovely, dick brain,” Pawlowski says.

“My sister would kick me in the balls if I didn’t listen to her.” I say to stop them from getting into a full-blown argument.

“Yeah, but your little sister’s cool, she comes to your games and gets you to sign her jersey, it’s cute.

” I smile, thinking about the last time she did that.

It was embarrassing, but it was also really fucking nice.

I know I’ll never get to do shit like that after I graduate, because I won’t be playing pro.

This is my last chance to sign jerseys and play hockey, or even be around hockey.

Before I go into the world of finance and bankers and wearing a fucking suit to work every day.

I text this Stefanos guy back and tell him what time I’ll be home if he wants to come and take a look at the place.

I have a ton of work to do for my next finance assignment, but after my work-out and then practice, my shoulder’s killing me.

Michael, the PT, calls me in for a sport’s massage before I can escape and I have to pretend I’m not in pain as he works through the knots.

“You’re sure this injury isn’t giving you trouble?” he asks after I let out another groan.

“No, it’s just tight.”

He finally lets me get up, after torturing me for what felt like hours. I’m sweating worse than I was when I was on the ice in full gear.

“You know Alexei…” Michael says, wiping his hands on a towel while I put my shirt on. “If you address the pain in your shoulder now, you could save yourself a lot of trouble in the future.”

What future?

“I’m fine, but thanks.”

I get my hoody on and hop off the table.

“You have to think about your career. You don’t want it to end it before it even starts.”

That stops me in my tracks.

“The injury I got in juniors ended it before I started.”

“What do you mean? You’re here aren’t you?”

I can’t stop the scoff escaping. “I was supposed to go to Boston and get drafted, even signed by now.”

“This isn’t something to turn your nose up at either. You’re playing Division 1, Ivy League here.”

“Yeah and this is where the road ends.” I try to walk past, but he instinctively puts his hand out to stop me and then realizes what he’s done. I’m not gonna make him feel bad about it, so I step off.

“Listen, I know your intentions are good, but my career ended when I was eighteen. I haven’t been the same since and everyone who was directly behind me overtook me.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t play hockey.”

Does this guy have a fucking off button?

“Yeah, it does. Because I might be getting an Ivy League education, but it sure as hell won’t count for shit in the minor leagues.

I have a family to take care of. I need a job that pays real money.

I didn’t go to private school like some of the other guys on the team.

I don’t have rich parents to bail me out.

I have responsibilities. People counting on me.

I’m not old-money. So can you please just stop getting my hopes up?

I know what my future is, and it isn’t this. ”

He just stands there with his mouth open like a fucking fish while I sail past him.

The guilt only sets in when I’m halfway out of the arena and I remind myself that the guy was only trying to help. Yeah well, I don’t need his help. I know what I’m doing. I have a plan.

I need to quiet the voice in my head. That constant little critic always chirping away. Like my own personal heckler nobody asked for.

It’s mostly quiet when I’m on the ice. Focusing on one task at a time. Nothing outside of the perimeters of the rink.

And when I’d talk to horror boy. My head was quiet then too. Loud with something else maybe. Like the rush of blood in my ears, and my imagination giving him a voice. A soft, melodic one.

For the first time in a long time, I feel the need to open those old chats. To remind myself of all the stuff he said. How lost I’d get in his words.

It’s buried behind a year’s worth of generic book conversations.

I see the part where he told me he had a boyfriend and scroll fast. Faster past the chats where he’s asking me why I didn’t show for our date.

Faster still past the bit where I promised I’d meet him at that deli, and how he’d be reading a Sanderson book, for me.

Because I’m a fucking dork and he’s the only person in my life who knows that outside of my family.

I find the tail end of one of the chats we had before I fucked it all up and have to stop myself from getting impatient and pausing in the middle. I want to experience it all again. The build-up, the anticipation.

RedRum237: I was thinking about you when I finished reading that book.

Kelsier38: Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?

RedRum237: You know what I was thinking about.

Kelsier38: Tell me.

RedRum237: I was thinking about what it would be like to do all that stuff with someone in real life… someone like you.

Kelsier38: And what was it like?

RedRum237: What do you think? Amazing.

Kelsier38: You know I’m not gonna be like those ‘virgins’ in those spicy books when we actually meet right?

RedRum237: I know that. Neither am I. But we’ll figure it out together. It’ll be hot.

Kelsier38: You’re amazing.

RedRum237:

Kelsier38: Seriously. When we finally meet I’m gonna spoil you so fucking much. I won’t let you lift a finger. I’m just gonna lavish you with orgasms

RedRum237:

Kelsier38: When I figure out how, I’m not gonna stop. Unless you want me to obviously

RedRum237: I’m glad you’ve never sent me a dick pic, I prefer the not knowing, the anticipation

Kelsier38: Don’t get too excited, it’s just a normal dick, nothing special

RedRum237: I’ll decide that. And mine definitely isn’t special

Kelsier38: Are you kidding? Everything about you is special, and I’ve seen the shape through your sweats

RedRum237:

K?

Kelsier38: Yeah?

RedRum237: Tell me a story?

Reading the chat, I can sense my need coming through the keyboard. How desperate I was for him to say those four words. Tell me a story. His little invitation to turn the conversation dirty. To let loose and tell him all the things I wanted to do to him.

But I can’t read anymore. It doesn’t make me hot now, it just makes me angry at myself for being so chicken-shit.

A knock on the door has me almost jumping out of my skin. I close the laptop and shout from where I am.

“Who is it?”

The voice on the other side sounds nervous. Good, I hope I scared them off.

I don’t hear what they say, they’re too quite. “Who?”

“Stefanos, I’m here about the apartment.”

I look at my watch. It’s fucking hours after I texted him and he didn’t even get back to me. This fucking guy.

I swing the door open so hard I nearly pull it off its hinges.

Oh.

“Hi, um, sorry, I thought you were expecting me. The text said you’d be home by now.”

“I thought you were gonna reply.” Shut up you’re being a dick. And he’s… fucking hot. Wait…

“Don’t I know you?”

He drops his eyes, a pink flush on his cheeks. “Not really.”

“You were arguing with that guy the other night, right?”

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, his blush deepening. “You and your buddy came flying in like Batman and Robin, trying to save the day.”

What the fuck? “Hey, I was just trying to be a good Samaritan, would you rather I just leave it and hear about you on the news the next day?”

His eyebrows come up so high they almost get lost behind all that light brown hair falling in his face. “Dramatic much?”

My heart starts pounding in my ears. Who does this guy think he is? I was just trying to help. “Look, do you wanna see the place or not?”

The way he looks at me, his eyes all wide, tells me I’m not being very nice right now – understatement. My brain gives me a helpful reminder that I can’t pay rent by myself.

I need to stop being a dick. Like. Right. Now.

I close the door a lot gentler than I opened it and stand in the middle of the living room with my hands in my pockets, because for some reason, I suddenly don’t know what to do with them.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he starts.

“Forget about it, seriously, I was just being a grouchy dick because I’m tired.”

One side of his mouth quirks up and my stomach does a little flip. He obviously still thinks I’m a dick. He’s just too nice to tell me to go fuck myself.

“So um… this is it.” I gesture vaguely around the room. It’s nothing special. And it’s small. But we’ve kept it clean and all the appliances are reasonably modern. Some of the places I looked at when I first moved to Jersey were roach motels.

He turns in a little circle to look at everything.

“It’s small but-”

“No, it’s fine, it’s nice I mean.”

When he turns back and looks at me, he’s smiling. Big brown Bambi eyes looking at me, all sweet and innocent. Like I’m not being a grade-A dick right now.

“Can I see the bedroom?”

“Huh?”

I feel the flush start to spread up my neck and turn around before he sees.

“Oh, yeah, it’s this way.”

Storming ahead, I push the door to Wilde’s old room. He left most of the furniture for the next person. Cheap Ikea bed, with a desk and a two door closet.

“It’s nothing fancy.”

Stefanos peeks past me before slipping into the room. He’s like one of those woodland animals in a Disney movie. All graceful and lithe.

“How come you’re looking for a roommate anyway?”

The big doe-eyed expression of awe drops instantly and a dark cloud spreads over his delicate features. I note how his nose is a little crooked and slightly out of proportion with the rest of his face, and how this only makes him hotter somehow.

“I broke up with someone.”

“Don’t tell me, that guy you were arguing with?”

“Ten points Sherlock.”

I spit out a shocked laugh.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I started it.”

He looks like he’s thinking something over real hard. He makes his mind up and says, “by the way, I’m gay.”

“Um, okay? I kinda guessed that with the whole boyfriend thing.”

“I just mean, if it’s gonna be a problem-”

I hold my hands up. “Not a problem. Don’t give a shit.”

He looks like I just slapped him. What did he want me to do? Throw a parade. Oh Jesus Christ, hi Papa, what are you doing in there again?

“Just… maybe if you meet a guy, go back to his place.”

His cheeks flush.

“Not because you’re gay, I don’t bring girls back here either. Friends – fine. Hook-ups – go somewhere else.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “I think I can manage that.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“So do you want the place or not?”

He blinks at me hard a few times. “I’ll… have to think about it, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, just don’t take too long, I’m kinda in a hurry here. Some people don’t have rich parents to pay their rent.”

He lets out a loud, brash laugh so unlike anything I’d imagine coming from him.

“Neither do I.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then.”

Why does he keep just repeating everything I say?

I show him out, closing the door a little louder behind him than I’d meant to.

Holy shit. What the fuck was that?