Chapter 2

And how right I was. Two hours later, as I laid sprawled out on the ice, Josh was the furthest thing from my mind. The pain coursing through my back and legs was the closest. It took me a good five seconds to come back to my full senses, at which point I saw the behemoth who'd hit me standing in my field of vision.

“Guess I have to aim a little lower next time, huh faggot?” he sneered before skating off.

I picked myself up and limped to the bench, where I angrily slammed my stick against the boards. “That's a goddamn penalty!” I screamed at no one in particular. “He can't just…” That's when I saw it. On the other side of the rink. A familiar mop of black hair.

The puck slid past the bench, followed by ten rapidly moving bodies. I looked out at the crowd again. Sitting in the top row of seats, away from the dozen or so of the game's other spectators (which was, frankly, a good turnout for us), leaning on his hands and watching the game with only half-interest. There was Josh.

Our goalie made another daring save and froze play. Despite half my body feeling like it'd been hit with a wrecking ball, I was ready to go. I leapt over the boards and skated to the faceoff. I was more than pleased to see the giant—easily 250 pounds—who'd plowed into me was also back on the ice.

We won the faceoff and brought the play into their end. The whole time, I could feel Josh's eyes on me. It was an incredible motivator: now I wanted a goal, which was easier said than done—I'd scored a grand total of three in my two-and-a-bit years of playing.

The puck came to me at our opponent's blue line. I wound up and blasted a shot that just went wide of the net. The brute snatched it up and began to skate it out of his zone. I grinned. If I couldn't score a goal, there was still something I could do to impress my new friend.

As Brutus fought against the hacking sticks of my teammates, I began to back up until I was closer to my end than his. A chill went down my spine. This was going to hurt. Just hopefully not me.

He managed to break free from the other sticks and zip out of his end. Perfect. I put on the thrusters and skated as fast and as hard as I could, blasting right towards him. He was so focused on controlling the puck that he didn't see me until the last second, but I was still able to catch the look on his face as I lowered my shoulder and plowed into his chest at full speed.

It was like crashing into a wall. I felt the collision reverberate through every inch of my body. Newton’s third law of motion—action and reaction—flashed in my mind. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to check someone 60 pounds heavier than me.

But my skates stayed on the ice, while his flew up from under him as he fell backwards, a Goliath taken down by an angry, possibly foolish David.

A roar went up in the crowd. My target hit the ice with a hard thud, the puck trailing away from under his feet. I regained my balance and waited until his eyes focused on me. “Come by my place tonight,” I said, wearing what had to be the biggest shit-eating grin. “I'll ram you even harder.”

He moaned something, but one of my teammates had grabbed the puck and was trying to set up another play. As I took my position, I saw Josh sitting straight up, a big smile on his face. I winked at him, though I was certain he couldn't see it under my visor. Then I chased after the puck. We were down 0-3, but at that point I didn't care what the outcome of the game would be.

***

“That was bullshit, guys,” Travis said. I peeled off my jersey and shoulder pads as our team’s captain brooded back and forth in our dressing room. He looked around at each of us. “That was a bad game with some bad goals they shouldn't'a scored and some easy goals we shoulda. We keep playing like this and we're gonna be outta playoff contention by November.”

“Tell that to the defense!” another player shouted. “We can't score if you guys can't clear the puck!”

“You can't score, period,” I spat. I kept my eyes narrow, and my brow furrowed, wanting to look like I was just as pissed as everyone else, when really I just wanted to get changed and get out of the arena.

“Quiet!” The team captain held his arms—his big, burly arms—out. “We're not placing blame on anyone,” Travis continued. “We're a team. We lose as a team; we win as a team. And tonight, we lost as a team.” He lowered his hands and stood in silence for a moment. God, he was captivating. I removed my elbow pads as quietly as I could and moved onto my skates. “Good. Now let’s rest up and be ready for practice on—”

“We absolutely can fucking score.” The shithead wasn’t done yet. He leaned in, glaring right at me. “Maybe we’d do it more often if Trent here worked his ass the way the rest of us do.”

“Hey, I work ass.” I ripped one half-undone skate off my foot. “Ask your mom.”

A chorus of “Ohhs!” sounded in the room. The shithead smirked. “Yeah, says the gay.”

“Hey man, when they’re on the stomachs it’s all the same to me.” The chorus got even louder.

“That’s. Enough.” Travis still held his position in the middle of the room. “As I said, we’re not blaming anyone. Though I’m pretty sure Trent had the hit of the night. I don’t think that guy will be walking straight—” He glanced over at me. “—or, uh, properly, for a week.”

Now the other skate was off, and I became aware that everyone else was looking at me. I shrugged. “He called me a faggot. I’m not going to allow that.”

Travis snorted. “Guess we know your secret now. We’ll all start calling you, uh, that word, and just let you go berserk over everyone.” He took a breath. “Okay, that’s all. Get some rest, eat well and I’ll see you at practice on Friday.”

My hockey pants came off, followed by the socks and shin pads, and then finally my smelly, well-worn jockstrap. I grabbed a towel from my bag and headed for the communal showers. In many ways, it was my favorite part of the game, and not just because I enjoyed getting clean, but today I wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

***

The arena lobby was empty as I carried my bag and stick through it and walked into the cool night air. I’d failed to dry off well enough, and now I could feel the moisture quickly growing cold against my scalp. That meant dandruff—which I somehow had despite my bleach-blonde hair. That reminded me that I needed more shampoo, and probably deodorant, and when was the last time I went grocery shopping anyway—

“Trent!” That voice. I turned to see Josh running from the far side of the arena. For a moment I had the urge to drop my stuff and grab him in a tight hug. I resisted it, and instead gave him a heads-up nod.

“Hey buddy, thought I saw you in the stands.”

“You guys were great!” That energy he'd had when it had been just me and him in the room was back. “When that guy hit you and then you plowed into him like a truck, oh man, you should have heard the crowd! It was the best part of the game!”

I gently nudged him with my elbow. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Can’t say it was the best game I’ve ever played, though.”

He laughed. “You must be sore. Do you want me to carry your bag?”

My bag was a good forty pounds of equipment and other miscellaneous crap. There was no way he was going to be able to carry it more than a few feet. “How about you take my stick for now?”

He eagerly grabbed it from my hand. “Are you catching the bus?”

Ha. Like any bus ran this late at night. “Nah, I’m walking. My place is just ten minutes away.” Ten minutes when I wasn’t carrying my bag, but I didn’t want to scare him off.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll walk with you.” He took a step forward, then stopped. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

With my free hand, I reached out and tousled his hair. “That’d be great. Let’s get going.”

I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and headed away from the arena, going down the dark, empty side street. It led into a small student suburbs, full of run-down houses and duplexes that were cheap in every sense of the word. Though the night was cool, it wasn't particularly cold, and after a few minutes of lugging my bag I had started to sweat. I took a minute to stop and undo my jacket. Josh came up beside me, his large eyes scanning the area continuously. He hadn’t said anything yet, and I was getting a bit sick of the quiet. Here I was, walking home with a cute boy, and neither of us had anything to say?

“So where do you live? In residence?” I'd lived in one of the residence buildings—in a cramped, stuffy room barely the size of a closet—in my first year. I would have been happy to never see, or even think, about it again.

“Oh, no. I live at home. With my family.” He snorted. “They're going to wonder where I am. I told them I was studying with friends today.”

“Ah. So, they don't know…” The words were pouring out of my mouth before I could catch myself. “…that you're gay?”

He froze up, making me regret my words even more. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I shouldn't have even asked that. I mean, you might not even be gay, right? It's not like we have a requirement for the club.” Shit. I was talking too much. I tended to do this.

“No, it's… it's okay.” Josh clenched my stick tighter, holding it against his chest. “I'm gay.” He started laughing. “I'm gay! Wow, I've never actually said it to anyone before.”

“Guess it's official now.” We reached my street, where the buzzing orange streetlights were fewer and further between, leaving long stretches of sidewalk in the dark. I figured I'd take another stab at it. “I suppose you haven't told your parents?”

“No.” His voice dropped. “I don't think they'd take it very well. They’re, uh, pretty religious and it’s…” His voice trailed off and he was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke back up. “What about you? Who have you told?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone, man. In the last year I've told my dad, told my dorm mates, told my friends back home. I've heard that some people like to take it nice and slow, but I figured it was time to just come out and let people know I'm, you know, gay.”

“That's cool.” He inched closer to me as we left the light of one of the overhead lamps. I inhaled sharply. My house was getting close. Something was about to happen. “What about your team?”

“My hockey team? Told them towards the end of last season.” Now we were encased in the darkness. I could sense his body right next to mine. All I had to do was reach out a few inches and grab his hand, just like how he'd grabbed mine before. And yet. “It was actually unexpected. I wasn't planning on telling them, but then I scored the game-winning goal in overtime—off a fluke shot, at that—and I took it as a sign.”

“Really? What did you say?”

“It was great. We were celebrating in the dressing room, and I was like, ‘Hey everyone, just so you all know, I'm gay, and I fuck guys, and if any of you have a problem with that I'll be happy to meet you in the parking lot and fuck you too.’“

“Oh,” Josh said. He paused. “Wow. That's definitely one way to come out. Maybe one day I'll try that.”

“Maybe.” My house was just up ahead. Even lugging all my hockey gear, it felt like we’d made it there in record time. “Well, there’s my place. Thanks for helping me get here.”

“We’re here already?” He sounded disappointed. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later. When’s the next meeting?” He reached out to offer me my stick.

“In a week.” I took the stick and leaned it against the side of the house. “But I want to see you before that.” Oh shit. No. I meant to ask him.

“I—That’d be nice.” His voice was even softer.

“Earlier,” I said, dropping my bag and pushing it aside, “when we were in the room. We grabbed hands. And I… you’re really cute, Josh. Like, super, super cute.”

I reached out once again and gently touched his hand. He grabbed onto mine, tightly.

My heart was pounding harder than it had the entire hockey game. I wrapped my free arm around his head—my God, his hair was soft—and brought my lips towards his. He briefly pulled back, but then moved closer to me.

There was no interruption this time. My lips brushed up against his, and then I went in for the kill, starting with gentle kisses and then working my way up to a little biting and a lot of tongue. His lips moved around frantically at first—it was obvious that this was his first time kissing another guy, if not anyone at all—but he caught on with my rhythm. I moved away from his lips and kissed against his warm, soft skin, going up his cheeks and onto his forehead.

His hands felt around my torso before stopping at my sides. “Holy…” he whispered. “I can’t believe…”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. I slowly rubbed my hand along his chest and down his stomach. I gave him a quick look and he nodded. I moved my hand to his jeans, where I had no difficulty finding his erect cock pressing against the denim. He inhaled sharply as I teasingly stroked against it. “You’re fucking hung,” I whispered into his ear before kissing it a few times.

Now his hands were feeling along my crotch. “Says you!” he nearly shouted. “You must be…” He trailed off, and then pressed his mouth against mine, his tongue flicking against my teeth. His breath was fresh, tasting of a strong gum or mint.

“My roommate,” I said, nearly talking right into his mouth, “he’s either not home or if he is he won’t care if we go up to my room.”

He took a half step back, his hands still on my waist. In the faint streetlight, I could see his eyes scanning me up and down. A huge smile formed. “I think that sounds—”

An eruption of guitars blasted from his pocket. Josh’s expression fell as he fumbled to pull his phone out. “Oh shit, shit, shit.” He swiped at one of the buttons and answered it. “Hey, I’m on my—yes, I know. I’d forgotten to—no, I’m coming home now… Out of breath? What, no. No, I’m running. I’m running to get home. Okay, yes, I’m very sorry.”

He hung up and I felt my erection disappear. Not tonight after all. “I’m really sorry, that was my parents,” Josh said, as he frantically smoothed his shirt down and his hair back. “I’m super late to get home and they’re wondering…” He looked up at me and smiled. “You're so fucking hot. Can we do this again? Like, really soon?”

“I’m free on Friday.”

“My last class is at three.” A huge grin came across his face. “Then Friday it is. What’s your Snap?”

“Don’t have one,” I said. “I’m, uh, not really on social media. It’s too distracting when I’m trying to focus on school and hockey. I have a Facebook account but that’s mainly to stay in touch with my relatives once a month.” I reached my hand out. “So gimme your phone.” He handed it to me, and I pulled up the contacts. “Now you have my number. Let me know what time works for you and I’ll make myself available.”

He nodded furiously. “That works. Just don’t sext me or anything, okay? I don’t want someone reading it over my shoulder.”

“I’ll try my best.” I grabbed him in another hug and gave him a final kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night. Was nice to meet you today.”

“You too.” He took one last look at me, smiled, and then started running back down my street. I watched him disappear into the night and then I lifted my bag up over my shoulder once again and grabbed my stick. A light sigh pursed from my lips as I unlocked the door and entered the small (but comfortable) two-story house I shared with one of my closest friends. I still had studying to do, and now all the energy was out of me. If only Josh hadn’t received that call. I could have had him accompanying me up the stairs and into my bedroom, where we could have fallen on my bed, making out as we tore our clothes off, both of us hard as fuck and looking to do something about it.

If only.

Instead, I entered my room alone and flipped open my laptop. I sat down in my creaky office chair and stared at the screen, unable to bring myself to actually start working. Josh had taken over my mind. His baby face and that shiny black hair. That uncertain smile he gave when I met him outside the UGSM door, followed by the giant grin when we realized we liked each other. How good his skin felt as I kissed it. Even his squeaky voice. I wanted everything about him to be with me, in my room, right then and there.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Hey, this is Josh. Great 2 meet u today :)

“You too,” I murmured. I put my phone on my desk and grabbed the mouse. I was in for a long night, but maybe I’d be able to focus after all.