Chapter 4

Two weeks later we were back on the campus quad, in a semi-secluded corner where two old brick buildings met. I was leaned up against the ivy-covered wall while Josh lay next to me, his head resting on my chest. I sighed and took in the cool fall air, then wrapped my arm around his torso and kissed his head.

Despite classes ramping up and my constant schedule of practice, games and working out, Josh and I had been able to meet nearly every other day. Each date was somewhere public—hanging out on the campus quad or the Student Union building, getting coffee at one of the nearby cafes, or going on walks through the forest or nearby suburbs—and with each one he’d seemed to loosen up a little, spending less time looking around for anyone who might recognize him and more time looking at me.

And honestly, they were the best dates I’d ever been on. We talked for hours about absolutely anything, and half the time we made each other laugh so hard we’d be crying. Within a week we had our own inside jokes, based on incidents such as him asking if it hurt when I got hit with the “hockey disk” or me momentarily forgetting the name of a pumpkin and instead referring to it as a “big lumpy orange.” I began to look forward to seeing him more than anything else, including hockey, something I wasn’t sure had been possible before that point.

As we lay there, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket. There was a text from Travis: team outing at the Dome. b ready to b wrecked.

I chuckled and replied: ill be buzzed while you’re passed out.

“Something funny?” Josh asked. He tilted his head back and looked at me. Even after two weeks, those blue eyes gave me chills.

“Just planning for tonight. I don’t suppose you want to come to a bar? They don’t check for ID.”

“Uh, no. I think I’ll pass.” He sat up. “I guess that means you need to get going?”

“I should get home and get changed.” I reached out and stroked his hand. “But I have a few hours. You wanna come with?”

He grimaced slightly. “I have to be home soon. Friday night is Game Night for my family.”

“Of course.” After two weeks, it was the expected response.

For all the fun we’d had, there was one problem: Josh didn’t want to come back to my place. Whatever enthusiasm he’d had for it the first night we’d met had disappeared, and anytime I’d bring it up he always found an excuse. He had to get home, or he had a group project to work on, or he was just feeling tired (I didn’t figure I’d hear that one until I was in my 30s). I totally understood it—this was his first foray into dating, and it made sense that he’d want to take it slow. But that didn’t make me want to get him in my bed any less.

“I’m pretty busy this weekend,” Josh continued. He started to stand up. “But Monday, you wanna hang out? My parents normally have to work pretty late, and my brother does his own thing, so I should be able to stay out for a while.”

I pushed myself off the ground as well. “Sounds good. We’ll find some nice patch of grass to spend a few hours.” My words were sharper than I’d wanted.

He clearly noticed. “Um, yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Sorry. I guess you’re kind of sick of all these outdoor dates, huh?”

“Of course not,” I said, my own voice falling. “As long as I get to be with you, I don’t care where we spend our time together.” I gave his arm a squeeze.

He smiled. “Thanks. This is, you know, all so new for me. And I like you, like, a lot, but I just need a bit of time to get used to this and everything.”

“Take as much time as you need.” I pulled him to me and hugged him. He looked up at me and our lips gently kissed for a few seconds. Then we pulled back, and I grinned at him. “Just try not to make me wait too long.”

He smirked. “I like to think I’m worth waiting for.”

“No doubt about that.” I kissed him one more time. “Have a great weekend.”

“You too.” He headed off, while I grabbed my phone. There were five messages from Travis about how he could drink me under the table. I rolled my eyes and asked him what time I should be there.

***

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” I held my glass up and drank the beer back as quickly as I could. I paid no attention to its bitter, flat taste or to my competitors around the table. My eyes were focused only on my glass. An impromptu chugging contest was serious business.

Soon I could see the bottom of my glass, and then there was just a bit of beer left. I finished it off and slammed it on the table to a roar of cheers. “Trent wins!” Travis put his hands down on my shoulders.

The other five finished their drinks seconds later. One of them glared at me jokingly. “Fuck, Trent, you sure you’re gay? Or are you just pretending for a diversity scholarship or something?”

I winked at him. “Come by my place tonight and I’ll remove any doubt.” As I said it, I felt a small pang in my heart. I didn’t want this random teammate (even if his hair had a sick hockey flow going)—I wanted Josh. I briefly wondered how much fun he was having doing game night with his family, and how much better it would be if he were here with me.

I put my glass aside and grabbed some nachos from the center of the table. I didn’t want the alcohol to hit me too hard. Travis raised his cup and toasted our team, though his voice was half-drowned out by the other patrons in the bar. It was crowded, even for a Friday night. If the team didn’t have a long relationship with the owner, we’d never have gotten this table.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Josh: hey.

And then another: having the world’s most boring games night

were playing scrabble

and I don’t think my brothers made a word with more than three letters

I laughed to myself. I could see him laying out some high-scoring seven-letter word, and then his brother putting down “CAT” or “SEE.”

I was about to type of response when I became aware that the guys had gone quiet. Then I felt a presence standing above me. I looked up and saw the behemoth I’d knocked over in the game two weeks earlier. Behind him were two of his teammates.

“I didn’t know the ballet squad drank here,” he said loudly, his words slurred. He laughed at his own joke.

“You’re very funny,” Travis said flatly. “What do you want?”

He put his big, meaty knuckles on the table. “I want an apology,” he said. He looked right down at me. “For that dirty hit.”

I chuckled loudly. “Dirty? It was clean as hell, man.” I made direct eye contact with him. “Maybe you’re just a lousy player.”

My teammates laughed. Goliath leaned in on his knuckles. “I don’t think you heard me,” he said, his voice lowering. “I came here for an apology, and I’m not leaving without one.”

Travis spoke up. “I think you are. He’s got nothing to apologize for. And you know the rule: leave it all on the ice. So just walk away now.”

He looked over at the team captain. My phone buzzed again. Another few messages from Josh:

so i was thinking about what u said

and i think im ready

A huge smile came across my face. Finally.

Goliath snorted. “You gonna defend this faggot? What, does he give you a blowjob after all your games?”

My smile dropped as my eyes narrowed and my skin grew hot. Every one of my teammates started shouting in my defense. I looked back at my phone as it vibrated in my hand.

maybe not for everything but it’d be nice to see your place from the inside :)

u still free Monday?

“Who’s Josh?” The brute was looking back at me, and my phone. “Is that your boyfriend? Bet you can’t wait to give him AIDS, huh faggot?”

I jumped up from the chair, sending it falling back behind me. There was fire pulsing through my veins. “Back the fuck off,” I snarled. “Don’t blame me because you’re just a shitty skater who can’t keep his balance.” There was a cocktail of anger and confidence flowing through me: anger, because who was this asshole to insult me, and confidence, because I was finally going to get Josh into bed. At that moment, I could have done anything. “Now leave or I will make you leave.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. Somehow he looked even bigger off the ice. “What’d you say?” he growled. “Wanna say it again, fag?”

My hands clenched into fists at my side. “I said walk away, big boy.”

“And I said fuck you, you queer.” He leaned forward and gave me a hard shove.

My whole body went supernova. If this fucker hadn’t learned his lesson the first time, I was going to have to teach him again. With a guttural yell, I stepped forward and threw a roundhouse with all of my might. It hit him in the side of the head. He stumbled back and bent over, grabbing his left temple.

I exhaled hard and shook my hand. “You want more?” I spat. At the table, all of my teammates had stood up, but none moved to stop me. I glanced over at Travis. He gave me a bit of a shrug.

Goliath stood back up, raised his fists, and lunged at me. It was just like a hockey game: I had to read his body language to know what he was about to do. And he was telegraphing enough to put on a Broadway production.

I stepped to the side as he threw the punch, then pushed his arm away and plowed my fist into his nose. He cried out and grabbed his face. I pushed his chest as hard as I could. For the second time in two weeks, he fell to the ground with a hard thud.

His two teammates cautiously approached him and tried to get him up on his feet. He eventually got up, but his entire upper body was bent over like a ragdoll.

“Don’t come back here,” I said. I rubbed my right hand. The skin on my knuckles was broken and my wrist hurt from hitting him. Still, totally worth it.

I sat back down at the table, to the cheers and back slaps from my teammates. I picked my phone back up and sent Josh a text:

Monday it is. Can’t wait.