So yeah… this weekend was our last one. We were free as a bird until practice on Monday morning.
Which worked out perfectly, since tonight was the Daddy Night that Ollie had demanded I attend. Nervous excitement ran rampant, making my heart race, skin tingle, and palms sweat. I’d even invited Shane, but his grandma threw a wrench into our plans when she told him she needed him for some fundraiser or something or other. He told me what it was, but Alex came out of the bathroom naked while Shane whined about missing out on all the fun, so it went in one ear and out the other.
When Daddy Night ended, Alex and I planned to lock ourselves away for the weekend. I wanted to be able to enjoy myself, not nurse insanely sore muscles all weekend. At least not ones I got from hockey.
Alex and I snuck time away as often as possible. It sounded juvenile, but since he lived near the arena and had given the team an open invitation to drop by his house, his place was off-limits. And I certainly couldn’t bring the man back to my dorm. That would be awkward with any man his age, even if he weren’t the coach.
Sometimes we’d steal away for food and a romp picnic-style in the bed of his truck. After the first time, when I sported bruises from the corrugated metal bed and he complained his knees hurt for a week, Alex tossed an inflatable air mattress behind the seats because we couldn’t be bothered to keep our hands to ourselves.
Other than the truckbed, we were left relying on the club. Only the private rooms upstairs were safe, though. I’d not stepped foot into any of the public spaces since the first night, which saddened me. Shane paid good money for the membership, and I wasted it. Was wasting it.
But what could I do?
Not a flipping thing. The lack of access and the need for privacy seriously limited our ability to play and explore the naughty things Alex whispered in my ear during sex. I wanted to experience it all. Even the suggestions that I didn’t think I would like, because how could I know I wouldn’t like them if I didn’t give them a try?
The truck picnics and the nights at the club kept us in check in, and our relationship out of the arena. Mostly. There’d been a few times we got close to the line drawn in the sand, but we’d caught ourselves and the line remained uncrossed. I wasn’t sure how much longer that would hold, though. Keeping my hands off the man became more and more difficult the closer we became.
Sasha’s voice pulled me out of my head as he pulled the team in to talk before releasing us from practice.
“Alright. That’s it. The weekend is yours to do with as you choose. Go to class, learn something, then have fun. But first,O’Callahan, since you took leave of your senses this week, you get to remind the team of the rules.”
Rand O’Callahan, or the numskull as the team had taken to calling him, got caught by campus police drinking underage a few nights ago, so it didn’t shock me when he got called out. He should’ve known better. We went over the rules at the end of each week’s last practice. To make matters worse, he called Trey and me instead of Sasha or Coach Grigor.
“C’mon, Coach,” Rand groaned pleadingly.
A smile tickled my lips, forcing me to bite down on them to keep from losing it. I knew for a fact that tone didn’t work on Alex. It wasn’t a big jump of the imagination to realize it wouldn’t work on Sasha, either.
“Whining just got you extra ice time. Out and back, O’Callahan.”
Rand swore but did as ordered, grumbling under his breath the whole way. Sasha watched him go, then turned back to us.
“Alright. Since O’Callahan can’t remember the rules on his own, let’s all remind him as a team. And do it loudly so Rand can hear you over his whining.”
Sasha motioned to Trey, who yelled, “Rule one!”
We all replied, our voices filling the cavernous arena, “Drinking, driving, swimming, and sex… don’t do any two at the same time.”
“Rule two!”
“Don’t end up in the hospital, the news, or the cemetery.”
“Rule three!”
“Don’t add to or subtract from the population.”
“Rule four!”
“Always wrap your stick so you don’t get sick.”
That was one of Alex’s hard-and-fast rules. It worried me that he could be seeing other people, but the chicken ostrich—I still couldn’t figure out what it should be named, reared its ugly head. So, I avoided asking him if he had other boys or even partners who weren’t boys.
Sasha patted Trey on the back as Rand slid to a stop next to us, bending over to rest his hands and stick on his knees.
“What’s the last rule, O’Callahan?”
Rand panted, “Stay outta jail. If you end up behind bars, call Coach Storm or Coach Grigor.”
“Why’s that, team?” Sasha asked, his voice echoing.
