Page 3

Shane

Present

Three years later

“G o long!”

I’m about thirty yards from Matt in the quad on campus, but the idiot is determined to show off. So, I start running backward, yelling at him to throw the damn ball already.

And because he’s a hockey player and not a quarterback, it’s thrown short and off to the right.

Grumbling, I run forward, keeping my eye on it.

“Watch out!” Ryder calls out.

Right as his words hit my ears, I collide with someone.

We land with a thud, their body breaking my fall.

“Shit, sorry about...”

Getting my bearings, I look down and I am captivated by the most beautiful golden-brown eyes I have ever seen.

“Hi,” I whisper.

The guy visibly swallows, and I can’t help but track the movement, watching his Adam's apple bob in his narrow throat.

He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen him before. I would remember if I had met someone with such pretty eyes.

Realizing that I’m crushing him, I quickly get up and offer him my hand. The guy stares at it and then gets up on his own. He only comes up to my chin and has a mess of shaggy dark hair that’s shorter on the sides. He’s dressed in all black. A black hoodie with some band on it that I’ve never heard of, black skinny jeans with ripped knees, and black combat boots.

“Sorry again for running into you like that.” I try to get him to look at me but he’s staring at my chest. “That idiot with the shit-eating grin is horrible at football.”

I point to where Matt is with the other guys, looking proud of himself for some reason.

“Good thing he’s a great hockey player,” I chuckle.

The guy snaps his head up at that and sucks in a breath. His eyes are huge as he takes a step back.

“I’m Shane by the way.” I smile at him.

He keeps staring at me like I have two heads. He backs up some more and pulls his hood up.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine. I h-have to go,” he says so softly that I almost miss it.

Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away.

What the fuck was that? And why in the hell was he wearing a hoodie at the end of September when it’s humid as shit and almost ninety degrees out?

I watch as he scurries off to be swallowed up by the other students milling around.

Turning around to head towards the guys, I spot a notebook on the ground. Picking it up, I turn it over, looking for a name. Not seeing anything, I open it and notice that it isn’t a notebook but a sketchbook. And holy shit this person is good.

Walking back to where the guys are now chatting with some girls, I tuck it in the back of my shorts and cover it with my shirt. I’m not exactly sure why I do that, but something tells me to keep it safe until I can return it.

Walking up to the group, I see Matt still smiling.

“Have a nice fall?”

I shove him playfully. “Maybe if you learned how to throw, I wouldn’t be knocking people over trying to catch it.”

Asher glances over my shoulder and then looks at me, silently asking where the guy went.

I shrug. “I have no idea, but he seemed scared of something, then he just took off.” I look around for him, knowing he’s long gone. “Do you guys know him? He looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before.”

Everyone shakes their head.

“I’ve never seen him. But then again Gannon U is huge. Wouldn’t be surprised if we never see him again though,” Ryder says.

I hope not. There’s something behind those eyes that’s calling my name. Plus, he’ll want his book back. There’s no way he’s this good and not an art major.

Matt says he’s hungry, which means we have approximately ten minutes before he starts whining like a baby, and fifteen before he starts singing commercial jingles that’ll get stuck in your head and annoy the shit out of you for the rest of the day.

With one more glance over my shoulder in the direction the guy with the beautiful golden eyes went, we take off to my truck.

“Call 1-800 Stea-mer. Stanley Steamer gets car-pet clean-er!”

“Oh my god! Shut up, Matt! We made it here in twenty minutes. There’s no need for this torture,” Ryder grouses.

“You’ve managed to annoy the one who doesn’t get annoyed, Matt. You can stop now,” I chuckle at him.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I say I know a shortcut.” He smiles, not caring how annoying he is.

It’s all good-natured, though. Ryder is a grouch because he went to bed late last night and had to be up at five thirty for practice. It seems his revolving door of women has finally caught up to him.

“Let’s just order so he can shove food in his yap and shut up for a bit,” Ryder grumbles while looking around for our waitress.

Asher is next to me and nudges my arm to get my attention. He can talk, but he’s more comfortable using ASL. I took a sign language course freshman year after I met him during summer training, and as far as I know, Ryder and I are the only ones who can understand him. Though he prefers to be spoken to with words.

‘You said you recognize that guy from earlier. What about him was familiar,’ he signs.

I shake my head. “I’m not sure. It almost felt like déjà vu. Like I’ve spoken to him before. But there’s no way I could forget eyes like his.”

He nods, looking thoughtful. ‘What did you pick up after he left?’

It doesn’t surprise me that Asher caught that. He’s quiet but observant. He’s the definition of a wallflower. Or whatever the fuck a male version of a wallflower is.

“A sketchbook. He must not have noticed he dropped it when we fell.”

I left it on my seat in my truck after everyone got out. Not that there’s anything bad or embarrassing in it, but I have this urge to protect it.

Rubbing my forehead, I let out a deep breath. When I look up three sets of eyes are staring at me.

“What?”

They glance at each other, making me feel like I’m missing something.

“Why do you look so stressed,” Ryder asks while ripping up a straw wrapper.

“Here you go boys,” our waitress says as she places our large pizza down. “Is there anything else I can get you guys?”

“I think we’re good. Thank you, Jan.” I smile politely at her.

“Alrighty! Well, if you need me, just holler.”

We all dig in, forgetting about the previous conversation. But I know Ryder will ask me about it when we get home.

When we finish eating, we head back outside to my truck. We all hop into my blacked-out F-150 with Ryder in front and Matt and Asher in the back.

I turn on the local rock station as Fighting Myself by Linkin Park starts. Avoiding any more conversation, I crank it up as the bass rumbles through my whole body. I roll down the windows and head home.

“Are you going to tell me what’s stressing you out?”

We’re sitting on our balcony, watching people light Tiki torches in the communal courtyard.

We live in a two-bedroom condo that’s about fifteen minutes from campus. Asher and Matt are on the first floor while Ryder and I are on the second. The whole building is filled with upperclassmen.

I take a sip of my water and look over at him.

“I don’t know man. That guy I ran into has been on my mind all afternoon. And I don’t know why.”

He gives me a look that says I’m full of shit.

“Oh really? So, it has nothing to do with you laying on top of him for ten minutes?”

“It was not ten minutes you ass.” I shove him so hard that he falls off his chair. He lands on his side, laughing his ass off. “Shut up,” I huff.

“Naw, man. This shit is hilarious! You don’t even know his name and he’s already taking over your mind.” He laughs harder.

Taking another sip of my water, I sit back and look at the darkening sky. This is the perfect spot to stargaze. We’re far enough from Chicago that the lights and pollution don’t affect viewing the bright stars, yet we are close enough that it only takes about thirty minutes to get to downtown.

“I need to know his name, Ry. It’s going to drive me crazy not knowing.”

Getting off the ground, he pushes his short, dirty blonde hair off his forehead, sits back down, and pins me with his stare.

“Well, Mr. Hawkins, how exactly do you plan on doing that? I haven’t seen him before today and Gannon is too big for you to just walk around, hoping to run into him again.”

Wait. That’s it!

“You’re a genius, Ryder!” I jump out of my chair.

Confused, he lifts a brow. “I know I am. But care to share with the class why I’m a genius?”

“I’ll go back to the same spot in the quad. That was the first time we’d been there. Maybe he walks through it to get to one of his classes.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that when all your classes are on the other side of campus? You can’t miss them trying to find this guy, Shane,” he says like the level-headed person he is. “Also, if you fall behind this early Coach Q will have your ass. And then mine because we live together. Apparently when one of us fucks up, we both fuck up.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I lean against the rail and look at the stars.

I let out an exasperated breath. “You’re right. I’ll have to think of something else.”

I hear him get up, then he’s next to me.

“Don’t stress too much about it. If he really needs his book back that badly, all he has to do is look up the hockey team. As captain, your ugly mug is one of the first faces he’ll see.”

Laughing with him, I shove his ass out of the way as I make my way inside.

Deciding I’ve had enough for today, I say goodnight to Ryder and head to my room.

I won the master suite thanks to my amazing skills at pool. Ryder bitched for all of five minutes before he saw the size of his slightly smaller room and the bathroom that was right next to it. His room is on the opposite side of the condo, so we never have to hear each other’s extracurricular activities. Which was a necessity for the number of women that man brings home.

Closing the door behind me, I head to my bathroom. Turning on the shower, I strip. Stepping under the warm spray, I lower my head and let the water cascade down my neck and back, relaxing my sore muscles. Adding body wash to my sponge, I start cleaning my chest and stomach, then move lower to my semi-hard dick. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had anyone in my bed, and between the intense hockey practices and the mystery guy, I need this.

Dropping the sponge, I add more soap to my hand and grab my shaft in a firm grip, slowly stroking it to full mast. Closing my eyes, I move a bit faster when I see those golden-brown eyes looking up at me.

Damn, he’s beautiful. I need to find him.

Reaching down with my other hand, I gently tug on my balls. The dual sensation bringing me close to the edge. Stroking faster, I imagine that we kissed instead of him running away. He jumps into my arms, and we devour each other. He’s saying my name over and over, and then I’m coming all over the shower wall.

God damn.

Breathing heavy, I release my softening cock and open my eyes.

What the fuck was that?

I don’t even know if he’s gay or bi, like me. I haven’t came that quickly since I was like thirteen. What the hell is this guy doing to me?

Not the least bit relaxed, I quickly finish up. Back in my room, I throw on a pair of boxer briefs, turn off the light and get in bed. Making sure my alarm is set for five AM, I roll over and stare at the ceiling.

I shouldn’t be thinking this hard about someone I just met. I should have just turned his book into the Art Department and left it at that.

I look at his sketchbook on my nightstand. Turning on the bedside lamp, I pick it up. Still lying on my side, I open it. His drawings are so detailed that they look like someone took a picture in black and white and glued it to the page.

The first drawing is of a man’s face without eyes. His mouth is in a frown, and he has creases on his forehead like he’s worried. His hair is a mess as if he ran his hands through it a few times. Above his head is a bunch of dark swirls with sharp and jagged lines going through it. It’s dark and heavy like his thoughts are weighing him down.

Skipping a few pages, I stop when I recognize the person on the page. It’s a picture of Benji, one of our alternate captains, holding up the championship trophy we won last year in the Frozen Four. He’s captured so many details in Benji’s face that it’s hard to look away at the other players he drew. Matt and Ryder are hugging with big smiles on the left, and on the bottom right, Williams has his back to viewer holding up his goalie stick in one hand and mask in the other. And on the top right, it’s…me. I’m cheering with my arms raised above my head.

I stare at it, beyond stunned. I can’t believe he drew me. And he even captured the scar on my left eyebrow I got when I was younger. It’s like I’m in that moment all over again. I can smell the blood and sweat of the guys. That was one of the hardest games of my life.

Grabbing a pen, I contemplate leaving him a message to find later. I don’t want to come on too strongly in case he’s not into guys, but I need to do something to get his attention. I tap the pen on my lip trying to think of something.

I know just what to do.

Closing the book, I put it back on the nightstand so I don’t forget to grab it. Tomorrow, I’ll drop it off at the art building after my first class.

I turn off the light and fall asleep dreaming of the boy in all black with beautiful eyes.