“What do you worry about, Cody?” Victor asks, his voice so gentle.Everything. I worry about everything, and again, Victor seems to read my mind because he adds, “Right now.” I swallow and the sound is so loud in my head that I wonder if Victor notices, too. But when I look up, his face is stoic, unfazed, waiting for me to speak. So, I tell him what’s in my head.
“I still worry that Luke will want more. More than me. Physically.” Victor nods, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s a valid concern,” he says. “It’s a valid concern in any relationship. Expectations. That they don’t align. And in an ace relationship, perhaps even more so.”
“So… it’s normal?” I croak.
“It is,” Victor hums, “but even if it wasn’t, it’s still valid. Everything you feel is valid, Cody.” There’s a finality to his words that strikes me hard. “You matter, Cody.You,” he stresses the word, “matter more than anything.” And then the stupid tears come again because not once in my life have I felt that way. That I matter. And now Victor says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Say it,” he coaxes, and at first, I think he’s joking.
“What…” I shake my head.
“Say it,” he repeats. “Say, ‘I, Cody, matter more than anything’.”
“I…” I start, looking down at the floor.
“Go on, son.”
“I matter.” I look up at him. He nods at me, a soft smile on his lips. “I matter,” I repeat. “More than anything.”
“You do,” Victor smiles broadly, proudly, like I’ve just climbed Mount Everest. “Now, say it again.”
“Again?” I squeak. Victor chuckles.
“Yes, again. Ideally, you’ll say it until you believe it, but we both know that Rome wasn’t built in a day. It takes practice believing in your own worthiness. But we’ll get there.”We.I’m not alone in this. Victor is with me. I inhale slowly.
“I matter more than anything,” I say, and it’s not like in the movies. There’s no revelation of divine proportions. No radiant light hitting me from the sky. No choir of angels rejoicing a loud ‘Hallelujah, he gets it!’ But there’s hope. There’s hope.
“Good,” Victor hums. “Now, tell me about your boundaries.”
“My boundaries?”
“Yes. Your boundaries when it comes to intimacy. We all have them, but most of us aren’t aware of them.” My boundaries? My. Boundaries. “We cannot truly let go with someone else unless we fully understand ourselves. Our needs. Our desires. And most importantly, our boundaries. Do you know your boundaries, Cody?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s…” I trail off, frustration building. Why am I so clueless about everything?
“It’s never something you’ve thought about, right?” Victor says. I shake my head, mumbling, “no.”
“Well, it’s something you’ll have to dive into. Because in any relationship, it’s essential to be vocal about your natural boundaries. How can we let go and trust others if we do not know ourselves? If we do not trust our own bodies to tell us when it’s enough or too much?”
When he puts it like that, it totally makes sense. How can I trust Luke not to cross my boundaries when I don’t know them myself?
“But how do I do that?” I sigh, resignation lingering in my voice. I have no idea where to even start.
“Now, now, don’t give up already,” he chuckles. “There are several trust exercises that I can recommend that are beneficial for voicing your physical needs with a partner. And discover the natural limits of your intimate relationship. There’s one in particular,” Victor rubs at his hair, “that I think could be a good place to start, but it will take a little courage on your part, Cody. So, the question is, do you feel courageous?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Luke
Our team is backon the bench to start the 3rd period after spending the last intermission being chewed out by Coach in the locker room. We’re playing the hardest we’ve had to all season, but no matter how hard we play, the Hurricanes have managed to stay one step ahead of us. Missed opportunities on our part and the referees turning a blind eye to obvious penalties have plagued us over the last two periods. By now, I’ve been checked into the boards so many times that every muscle in my body is aching. My teammates and I have been tripped and slashed several times throughout this game, but I guess the refs are blind. At least to anyone wearing a red jersey. It’s gotten so out of hand that we’ve all tried pleading with the refs to open their eyes. They don’t want to hear us, though. Of cours,e they didn’t see anything.
After one particularly hard hit from their defenseman, Dennis D’Angelo, who has been a menace all night, Riley was furious. I didn’t even have the puck, and still, he slammed into me full force, the fucker. After continuing to argue with the lead ref after being told multiple times to stand down, Riley was sent to the locker room to finish the 2nd. Which is why we’ve spent the last twenty minutes listening to Coach’s rants.
“Stop letting the other team get into your head. When they’re pissing you off, get out there and play harder. We can’t afford nonsense penalties. If anymore of you get sent to the locker room for running their mouths, the whole team runs suicide drills all week at practice. Let me handle the referees and just play hockey!”
Don’t get me wrong. Coach has done his fair share of bitching at them, too, to the point where he’s almost been thrown off the bench himself. Butfuck. These Alabama Hurricanes aren’t out to play a fair game. The fans are now booing and banging on the glass as the final seconds wind down before we drop the puck for the last period of the game. I glance up at the Jumbotron as the arena shows replays from the past two periods on repeat. Every dropped puck and missed penalty are played in slow motion like some new highlight reel for ESPN.
I shake my head and glance at my teammates on the bench beside me. We all exchange a look, and that look tells me all I need to know. We’re all over the bullshit this team is giving us. It’s time to get our heads back in the game and bring this one home. We’ll see who gets the last laugh at the end of the night. Hopefully, it’s us.
