No. No, no, no. I cannot be thinking about sex. Or his dick. Or the way he looked when he orgasmed. Jesus, that was hot.
No!
Stop it right now. We’re not thinking about our teammate that way.
Who the hell am I even including in this ‘we’—my dick as if it has a mind of its own? I glance down at my crotch. Yeah, okay. I think cocks do to some degree. Why else would they randomly boner up throughout our life when the situationdefinitelydoesn’t call for it? Or wave like a flag during the most inappropriate times.
Thank fuck when the plane lands and I can step into the cold air of the Northeast. Except, it’s slightly warm today. Though I wouldn’t go so far as to call it hot out, it’s not freezing. I remember being a kid and there being snow for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure I remember the last time there was snow this time of year now.
“Cock sucker!”
The entire area turns as I do to look at the voice yelling. I laugh, rolling my eyes as I wait for Larson Faulkner to catch up. I’m surprised that he has his hellion of a husband with him. Dylan’s terrier-sized and a fucking diva queen if I ever saw one. He’s wearing heels. Heels! On a flight.
They catch up and we exchange a bro-hug. “Hey, Ocho,” I say and then offer his husband a big smile. “Queen.”
Dylan gives me a pleased grin and an approving nod. I’m surprised he’s not wearing a crown right now.
“Everyone’s flights landing around now?” I ask, spotting Noah Kain and Elixon Kipler as they exit the terminal into baggage claim. Noah spots me and offers a wave as they approach.
“I think so,” Larson says. “Noah came in from North Carolina instead of California. I was just talking to him on the plane, but I’m not sure where anyone else is right now.”
It’s not long before the three of us are joined by a whole bunch of hockey players, most of whom I know well. There’s Ethan Wilder—he and Noah give the audience a little show of hostility since they’d been high school rivals, though you’d not know that now. Then Noah tucks himself into Lix’s side and practically disappears.
Azure’s here, looking cold and unimpressed with life as he looks around. The other three with us are new to our group, though not necessarily new to pro. Keno Edgewood from Arizona came out this summer after a drunken night on the beach when he was found making out with his teammate Etna Yreka and the images of them spread through the internet like wildfire.
They both handled it well, were poised and amused that people found it newsworthy. The way Keno laughs at the hatefulcomments enrages those commenting as well as endears people to him.
The other two are rookies—one drafted from high school and the other from college. Gray Burks-Hewitt plays for Florida. After spending the summer in the AHL training camp, they brought him to the NHL to cover an injury, and he’s been there since.
Duke Andrew is the last of our party. Colorado’s only rookie on the team and he’s already had an impressive pro career. He’s going to do great things.
“We’re all here,” Larson says. “Let’s go beg for food so we can get home.”
We split ourselves between three rideshares and arrive at the park twenty minutes later. There’s already a whole long set up waiting for us there. The lady in charge is both calm and frazzled at the same time. I’m not sure which is more prevalent. Her voice is relaxed and her demeanor is slow, but she looks around and taps her clipboard as if she’s waiting for a comet to hit the earth in front of her.
“Wild,” Ethan says, shaking his head.
We’re there simply to gain attention and interest by mingling and making ourselves visible and available for pictures, autographs, and conversation. There’s a guy with a mic yelling into the park, directing everyone our way to meet the hockey players.
Dylan has a little fashion show going on with the kids. I’m not even sure I saw his suitcase in the airport, but out of it he pulls different garments and accessories, dresses up the kids, and tells them how divine they look. He shows them how to pose and takes their pictures with their phones, so they can show all their friends that they’re models now.
Honestly, the rest of us need to up our game. Dylan—the only non-athlete that came with our group—is showing us all up.
“We should have come better prepared,” Keno comments as he watches Dylan.
“This might be the first time I’ve crushed on a married guy,” Duke says. “He’s amazing.”
Larson remains very pleased and proud of his husband.
It’s a long few hours, but it feels good to smile and meet people who have nice things to say about my career. There are people excited to meet me. I talk hockey and take pictures, direct people to the donation table, and joke around with my friends.
When we’re finished, we grab something to eat and relax for a while. Half of us are getting back on planes tonight—I’m one of them. The others are staying. I could have stayed overnight, but I like my own bed better than a hotel room. And I’d kind of like to enjoy the day off tomorrow without having to break it up with travel. I don’t care what anyone says, a day filled with travel is not a day off at all.
I fall backon my bed and close my eyes. Two flights in a single day is exhausting. It’s late, close to midnight, but I’m not ready to sleep. I’m definitely tired. Overtired. Which is why I won’t be able to sleep.
Pushing myself up, I head for the bathroom and run through the shower to get the day off me. Plane rides and dirty New York… it all needs to be scrubbed off.
Stepping back into my room, I contemplate making a burger. Airport food leaves something to be desired. Before I can give it too much thought, my phone rings.
