“The fact that you’re touching on masculinity and femininity says that you are,” Kroy challenges. “And that’s fine. But seriously, this isn’t ayouproblem, Zen. You enjoyed it, yeah?”
Zenia nods, only frowning a little.
“That’s really the only thing that matters,” Kroy promises. “Everything else is just noise.”
Two very insightful things in one day. One of them from Kroy. Maybe three insightful things if I include the sudden change in my thoughts concerning Felton, but since I’m not entirely ready to address that right now, I’m not going to. That needs more consideration.
We continue to talk for a while, and I check in on Felton every half hour or so. He remains fast asleep. It’s late by the time the guys leave. I don’t wake Felton before I go to bed, but he’s gone when I get up in the morning.
For some reason, I’m disappointed that he’s not here.
FOURTEEN
FELTON
I don’t recognizemy surroundings at first. There’s a moment of panic when I open my eyes, and I have no idea where I am. It’s only when I roll over and a twinge in my ass makes me wince that everything comes rushing back—Ren, the gang bang, how he held me after.
There’s a bottle of water beside me, unopened. I only vaguely remember him setting it there. Sitting up and trying my damnedest not to grin at the reminders of how thoroughly I’ve been fucked, I chug the water. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until those first few drops hit my tongue.
Moving to the end of the bed, I look around. The room is dim because the curtain is closed. There’s a bench in the middle of the room where my clothes are neatly folded. There are bottles of lube and a pile of condom wrappers on one surface. I can still smell sex in the air.
Quietly, I get up and dress. I desperately need a shower but that’ll have to wait. My phone, which I find in my pile of clothes, tells me I have three hours until my flight.
The good feelings from yesterday war with the dread that sits heavily in my stomach. I’d rather stay here. I’d rather walkacross fire than go. But it’s Thanksgiving, and it’d just be one more way to let my father down if I don’t show up. Just another way for him to know how badly I’m failing at life.
I try to be as silent as I can while making my way through Ren’s house. I’m not sure if his friends are still here, but I don’t want to come face to face with them, nor do I want to wake anyone up. As I slip into my shoes, I study the minimally decorated space. It’s clean and devoid of clutter, yet there’s still personality.
Even if I didn’t know where I was, I’d have guessed that this place would belong to Ren. There’s just something about it that reminds me of his voice. Smooth, quiet, and lightly accented. Taking a deep breath, I even get a whiff of something soothing.
A smile accompanies me when I walk out of Ren’s house. My car is the only one left in the driveway, relieving the idea that I might have run into someone.
The drive to my house is only eleven minutes, so I’m there quickly and rush through a shower. It’s a holiday so there’s a toss up whether it’ll be incredibly busy or dead as fuck at the airport. I’m only staying for the night, so I bring two changes of clothes—my father would lose his mind if I came to dinner in the gym clothes I’m wearing.
I debate with myself on what to wear. If I wear a suit, my father will say I’m incredibly over dressed and feel the need to appear better than everyone else. But if I wear something more casual, he thinks I can’t be bothered to put the effort in. Fuck, I’m already exhausted.
I carefully tuck a casual suit into the hanging clothing compartment of my duffle and roll it up to drop in a more comfortable outfit for the flight home tomorrow. All I can say is thank fuck that the league doesn’t give us a ton of days off around Thanksgiving. I’m forced to fly back immediately so I don’t miss my game tomorrow night.
An awake six hours with my father is more than enough. Worse, I’ll be back there in a month for Christmas.
Ignoring the way the reminder makes my gut churn, I hop back in my car and head for the airport. Sticking my earbuds in, I try to tune everything out as I listen to a podcast and scroll social media. I smile when I see I’m still listed as one of the top five goalies in the league, according to Toby Eads. Even with the way I’ve been off my game lately.
I appreciate how there is never any gossip on his profile. It’s strictly hockey. He’s got a bit of everything too. Who plays when, the current weekly standings, trades, predictions, new rules and regulations, retirements, opinions on play… Honestly, I feel like this is his full time job. There’s rarely just one post a day, unless we’re in the off season after the Stanley Cup.
The thing that’s the most impressive and most chilling maybe, is that halfway through the season, Toby predicts who the Stanley Cup champions will be. Not kidding, for the last eight years, he’s been correct. He’s been off on some of the playoffs, but that doesn’t change his winning streak for predicting currently. I think we all hold our breath come the first of February to see who he’s going to predict for the Cup.
Toby Eads is like the Bible of hockey.
Sometimes when I need to shut out the world, I’ll just scroll his feed for a while. I’m guaranteed to only see hockey. No ads on laser hair removal or the best gutters for my area. No one trying to sell me on a cock sock as underwear replacement—though I may have ordered one just out of curiosity.
It’s not long enough before I’m sitting on the plane for the short ninety-minute flight. Because I didn’t check a bag, I don’t even have a reason to dawdle at the carousel for my luggage, and the rideshare trip is only nineteen minutes.
Every amazing feeling that I fell asleep with yesterday and lingered today is now gone. Overcome and drowned out by thesour feeling of being here. Facing my father in my childhood home. I really wish he’d offered someone else my room and forced me into a hotel room. Then I’d have a reason to leave.
Thankfully, I booked an early flight home tomorrow morning. I can’t risk delays and not getting to my game on time.
As I’m standing in the driveway staring at the house, another car pulls up. My cousin and her family step out. She smiles as she approaches.
“Hey, Felton. Glad you could make it,” she greets, wrapping an arm around my waist.
