“Cool,” he nods. “I’ll have the same.” Looking at the folder, he taps the number onto his phone. Suddenly, I’ve forgotten all about where I was headed and my eyes are locked on the focused frown between his prominent brows.
“You wanna watch a movie?” I hear myself asking, my voice sounding breathy, almost as if I’ve just run around the block twice. Maybe Ishouldrun around the block twice and clear my head.
“Sure,” he looks up, his smile growing, this time reaching his eyes. Holding the phone against his ear, he continues, “What do you wanna watch?” Without thinking, the words fall from my lips on their own accord.
“Love, Simon?”I croak because that’s apparently what I’ve been reduced to now. A needy, croaky—croaky?—mess of a guy. Before I can curse myself for suggesting a gay coming-of-age movie, the smile, now in full bloom, explodes across Cody’s face, his steel-gray eyes all bright like granite, pulling me in, keeping me transfixed. The moment seems to expand, and I’m just about to suggest another movie, maybe some lame superhero thing, when he laughs. I haven’t heard him laugh like this before, but the sound makes something shift inside my chest and I know then that I’m truly fucked. Not just because he’s our goalie and my roommate, but because, again, the small fox tattooed on his hip appears before my eyes and it’s all I can think about. Those colors and what they mean. You don’t have a tattoo like that unless it means something to you. Itmeanssomething to Cody, and that’s how I know I need to squash whatever feelings are growing inside me.
“Ohmyfuckinggawd!” Cody squeals, before his face sobers. “Oh, sorry, sir. Yes, two number 24s, sir.” Through a haze, I listen as Cody places our order, his cheeks ruby red, his eyes bright. Once he ends the call, he places his phone next to him before looking up at me. “I love that movie,” he whispers, eyes as clear as the virgin snow.
Of course you do, Cody Mitchell. Of course you do.
“It’s my favorite,” I swallow, that small fox imprinted on my retinas like a big fat stop sign.
“It’s my favorite, too.” He blinks, eyes not leaving mine, an edge of want in them that speaks to the same want that’s currently taking over every inch of my body. I’ve always followed the rules. Every goddamn one of them. I’ve never broken the speed limit. Not once in my life. I always came home way before my curfew. I never cheated on a test or handed in an assignment late. I’m your ultimate good guy. But all I want to do now is just blow past that imaginary stop sign and wave a big fatfuck youat all the rules. Cody’s smile, this very second, makes me want to break all the goddamn rules.
Chapter Eleven
Cody
Am I excited togo on a state hop for the next week with the team doing nothing but playing hockey? Obviously. An entire week of away games, flying the private team jet, and being with the guys 24/7. Three states in one week. Texas, California, and…Utah. Am I looking forward to going back to Utah, my home state, a place that carries a mix of so many memories and emotions? Definitely not. I feel it the moment the bus, taking us from the airport in Salt Lake City to Taylorsville, passes the familiarWelcome to Utah, Life Elevatedsign. I can’t tell if I feel like puking, crying, or laughing hysterically—shit, maybe everything all at once. Images of my father’s smile blending with Danny’s carefree laughter merge with memories of that day when they disappeared from my life in a cloud of dust and broken promises.
Buckhammer is snoring next to me, his head leaning against the window, his mouth slightly agape, a half-empty bag of cheeseDoritosin his lap, stinking up the bus. Across the aisle, Nowak is bobbing his head, AirPods in his ears, tapping away at the seat in front of him energetically. I’ve been spending most of the trip on my phone, looking at local charities in Aurora. Back in Phoenix, I did volunteer work through a localBig Brotherorganization. You’d be surprised how many kids have no way of getting to or from organized sports because their parents aren’t able to bring them, or they can’t afford transportation. So theBig Brothers of Phoenixhad a program where you could sign up to help kids get to and from sports. I volunteered to get Jordie, an eight-year-old boy, to and from hockey practice twice a week. His mom had good intentions but was working odd hours to make ends meet as a single mom. I stayed through practice and often took him out for burgers or pizza afterward if his mom got home late. I miss him. He was a good kid, reminding me of myself in many ways, never really asking for much, just a little of my time. Which I was more than happy to give. I want to do something similar in Aurora. I want to actually make a difference to some kid instead of just making a monthly donation. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m in a position where I’m able to do more, so why not? After all, they say the happiest people are those doing volunteer work. So if I can be someone to some kid who maybe dreams of becoming a pro hockey player too one day, then it’s time well spent.
“Cut it the fuck out, bro,” Riley suddenly explodes, getting up from his seat, throwing Nowak a warning glare. “I told you already, dumbass. Stop tapping my seat. I’m visualizing.” Riley crosses his beefy arms in front of his chest and Nowak swallows, offering him a toothy grin.
“Sorry, Canada,” he says, batting his eyelashes, voice sugary sweet, his thick accent seeping through every syllable. Luke,who’s sitting next to Riley, pulls at his hoodie, trying to drag him back into his seat. “It’s just… the Kid just dropped a new album, man,” Nowak shrugs apologetically while continuing to bob his head.
“The Kid?” Riley sits back down, eyes still on Nowak, a quiet warning lingering in them.
“Yeah, man. The Kid Laroi.”
“Never heard of him,” Riley cuts him off as he leans his head back against his seat, closing his eyes. Luke smirks, catching my curious gaze across the aisle, before sending a wink my way. And there it is again. That small annoying flutter that’s been lingering in my chest ever since we watchedLove, Simonthree nights ago. Not only is my roomie easy to get along with and super nice, but as it turns out, he’s also big-time into queer movies. Yes, you heard me. Movies as in plural. For the past couple of nights after practice, we’ve blown throughNetflix’sselection of queer movies and since we’ll be sharing a room on our road trip, we’ve already agreed to startHeartstopperafter our first game tonight against the Taylorsville Tigers.I’ve already watched it a few times, but who cares? A repeat won’t make Nick any less sweet to look at and sitting next to Luke in the dark, chuckling and joking under his fluffy blanket, has fast become one of my favorite pastimes.
The way he took care of me the other night was something I’ve never had before. I’ve never shared this part of myself with any other teammate, but something in Luke’s eyes told me I could let my guard down. That I could be honest with him. And I was right. It feels unbelievably good not carrying that weight around alone anymore. But it’s more than that. When he blabbered away about how cute Simon looked when he blushed, my eyes weren’t on the screen but instead, glued to Luke’s pink lips. I’m almost sure that he’s into guys, too. What if he is?
Shit,if I’m not careful, I’m going to break my number one rule: Never ever get involved with a guy you don’t know with 100%certainty is ace. Been there, done that, and have the emotional scars to prove it.
I can still recall Leo’s famous last words when I broke up with him in aStarbucksthree months into our relationship.
‘I just thought that maybe you could eventually do it for me?’ The hopeful glimmer in his eyes didn’t escape me as he reached for my hand across the table. ‘I mean, we kiss and touch and cuddle… What’s so bad about sex?’ Linking my fingers through his, I tried to hold it together, the pumpkin spice latte threatening to make a U-turn in my stomach.
‘There’s nothing bad about sex, Leo. Nothing at all. I just don’t wanna have it,’ I rasped, pushing back the taste of bile rising in my throat. ‘I told you that from the beginning. There won’t ever be a time where I’ll wanna have sex.’ Leo looked at me like I’d just confessed to killing Bambi’s mother, his huge brown eyes spilling over with tears.
‘But what if we try? Maybe you’ll like it with me?’ he whispered, wiping furiously at his cheeks. ‘You love me, right?’ I just shook my head, squeezing his fingers.
How could I explain something that went against everything that our culture promoted every single minute of every single day on any platform or media?Sex. It was all about sex. And as much as I’d tried to have it in the past, hating myself every single time, I could no longer be that guy. Someone who closed off his feelings and acted like a fucking robot. The one whotried.I had enough reasons to feel bad about myself; having sex would no longer be one of them. And as much as I loved Leo—because I really did—I didn’t want totry. Not even for him.
“… your key cards and do not—I repeat—do not fucking lose them!” Coach’s voice drones over the loudspeaker, causing Buckhammer to nearly catapult out of his seat, cheese Doritos scattering everywhere. Blinking a few times, wiping a dollop ofdrool from the corner of his mouth, he yawns loudly, stretching his arms above his head.
“Are we here yet?” the huge Texan groans, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. The bus has just turned down the long drive toward a large resort-style hotel where we’ll be staying for our game against the Tigers tonight. The lions against the tigers. The last couple of times that the team has played them, we’ve lost by a goal. By one goddamn goal. Today is the day of reckoning as far as everyone’s concerned, and without anyone saying it explicitly, I know all eyes are on me. Luckily, my knee hasn’t been bothering me since that one night when Luke took care of me, so fingers crossed it was just a small bump on the way.
Before the game, we warm up with a round of soccer. A lot of teams do it. It isn’t only a great way to let off some pre-game steam and settle any nerves. No, there are actually a lot of benefits to doing a warm-up with soccer. The quick changes and focused coordination help warm up your muscles and get your heart rate up, which increases blood flow to your muscles and can help prevent injuries during the game itself.
Our left wing, Persson, has found a large area across from our locker room that looks like it’s used partly for storage of random furniture and hockey equipment and as an occasional meeting area. He blew into the locker room a few minutes ago, a wicked smile on his face, spinning a soccer ball on his index finger.
“Let’s go, fuckers,” he cackled, throwing the ball at Crane, who growled back at him. It took me a few seconds to detach myself from our away uniform, the white jersey with navy-blue and teal stripes on the sleeves hanging from my spot in the locker room.Mitchellon the back in teal, a bright number 8 below my name. Damn, I still have to pinch myself sometimes and the surrealism of my life still blows my mind daily. Then Luke bumped my shoulder, a crooked smile playing at the corner of his mouth, an eager glimmer in his eyes.
“You comin’?” He nodded in the direction of the guys who were piling out of the locker room in their gym shorts. Some were bare chested, others in tees or hoodies. In a daze, I nodded at him, quickly pulling a white tee over my head.
