“The problem is, I have two semesters to finish my training and I need to finish it, Cory. I have a family. Responsibilities. Debt coming out of my ass.”
“I get that, I do. But why does that mean there can’t be a few hundred thousand little mes coming out of your ass at the same time?” Eyes darting between mine, he looks confused, frustrated. As second later his expression switches to one of shock and he barks out a loud, unexpected laugh.
“That’s freaking disgusting.”
“True though.”
It’s as he chuckles, I notice what I didn’t before. The dark circles marring the skin below his lashes. He looks defeated and suddenly tired. And I feel like shit for adding to his stress. Facing me, James takes a few steps back, turns and all but collapses onto the bed.
Keep your distance, I tell myself.That’s the wise thing to do.But nobody has ever called me a genius. The intrusive thoughts, the need to touch that tingles the very tips of my fingers has feet thoughtlessly moving ‘til I’m back by his side, shoulders and thighs pressed together. “I’m a student, yes. I know it complicates things, but I like you, Jamie. And even though you’re hairy and old as fuck?—”
“You know, I don’t really like the Jamie thing, and I’m barely three years older.”
“Whatever, Grampa. As I was saying, I’m more attracted to you than I have been to anyone … ever. This time next year, if not sooner, I’ll be in Canada. So I’m not asking for your hand in marriage here. Just time for some more discreet dinners, and laughs and a lot more coming.”
Puffing out his cheeks, something he seems to do as often as he rolls his eyes, he turns slightly then exhales, slow and shaken. “I like you too.”
“You do?” I’m caught off-guard, because that’s not what I expected. Nor is the edging sideways until our legs squish. Or the hand landing on my thigh, fingers splaying until they cover its entire width. He starts and stops a few times before finally settling on what to say.
“I do. A lot actually. But if life has taught me anything, it’s that the old adage, you can’t always get what you want, is true. I already feel like I’m trapped in a life I don’t want to be mine, and I’m not tying you to a sinking ship. You have too much to look forward to.”
Whoa. No one should look or sound this sad so soon after a blow job.
“You may not know this,” I say, fingers absentmindedly twirling through the dark hair on his leg, “but in the Marvel Universe there’s this concept of the life raft. Mr. Fantastic, Spider-Man, Thor, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, and a few others are always on board, and no matter what cataclysmic event occurs, those on the raft will always survive and rebuild. Admittedly, I’m not quite at their level. But I am surprisingly buoyant. Maybe you could try hanging on to me for a little while. See if we can ride the waves together.”
Looking slightly less pained, James raises his hand to cup my face, thumb caressing my jaw. His expression is tender, almostloving. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a complete nerd?”
I leftthat treatment room with a suspected grade-one AC joint injury, the taste of James still on my tongue, and enough hope of future hook-ups with my sexy doc to override any pain. Completing the mix of glorious and bad was Coach Harris. He was so pissed at Trent for his overenthusiastic boarding he suspended him from training with the team for a week. For someone like me, that lives and breathes hockey, that would be devastating. For Trent, it was laughable. He couldn’t have given a shit and ended up spending a week living it up in NYC.
So no Trent was a major up, but it was all down hill from there, and further confirmation of my belief that when life feels to good to be true, it’s about to fuck you over.
James’ original diagnosis of a grade-one AC joint injury was confirmed with scans the next day, and after consulting with the Mounties trainers, Coach White and James gave me the bad news. “We’re probably being over cautious, Cubby,” White said, empathy warming his tone. “But the Mounties want to make sure you’re fully healed before hitting the ice again. We’ll keep up the cardio and James will work on some stretching, but?—”
“How long?”
“Three weeks, no ice time.”
Yup. Devastating.
Twenty-one days meant I’d only be back two weeks before our first game. Today marks the end of week two. I’ve not laid a hand, or tongue, on James. I can’t skate. I’ve spent three shifts at Green Line assisting from the sidelines, unable to do my job fully, I can’t help out Mom around the house like I usually do, and I am climbing the fucking walls.
“What good is a captain who watches on from the bench? He may as well not even be here.” Shit attitudes like this aren’t helping.
After a really, really, really deep breath, I unclench my fists and respond, “I may not be able to skate,Trent.But I can show the freshman the benefits of dedicating to a solid recovery program.” I don’t actually know if I believe this, but it sounds good. “I can also not be a dick. You should try it sometime.” That I do believe. Wholeheartedly.
A rowdy round of Ooooos sees Trent rage-o-meter go from zero to one hundred. “I thought you liked dicks. In fact, I heard you more than love them. I heard you’re gagging for them.” The team falls silent. All you can hear is the steam erupting from my ears. Or maybe I’m just imagining that.
On my behalf, Sam and Lucas go on the offensive which is great, because I’m too busy being stuck in my own head. Trent’s constant gay slurs could be random jabs by a homophobic loser, or he could be onto my secret.
The question is how? I’ve been super careful at school, making sure I don’t hook-up with anyone from BC. And I’ve not so much as blinked at another guy in the locker room,whichhas been particularly easy because none of the team do it for me,becauseI don’t want to fuck every guy that moves, despite what assholes like Hoffman think.
Wait.
Hoffman.
The Mounties.
McKinney.
