“Right.”
“But thanks.”
“Sure.I’ll just…” Ben sat on the toilet lid with his back awkwardly turned.Behind him, the shower turned on.The room steamed up fast, and Ben tried and failed to let some of the tension steep from his shoulders.He hadn’t been lying when he’d said this was different from the locker room.They were all alone in Phil’s big house, and the nature of Phil’s injury meant constant physical contact.They barely knew each other, and Phil thought of Ben as his coach, a guy who had a lot of power over his professional future.
If Phil had known that Ben wasn’t a hockey coach and also as gay as a field of old, grumpy daisies, he probably wouldn’t have been too thrilled about being naked in the same room.Hockey guys were not known for being cool about that kind of thing.
Under the circumstances, Ben’s level of tension fit the situation perfectly.
Phil kept the shower short.When he shut off the water, the room smelled of sandalwood and oranges.Ben inhaled deeply and got to his feet to grab the towel off the rack.He turned, and oh, there was Phil, naked and dripping wet.Ben eyed a particularly saucy drop of water as it made its way down Phil’s chest barely to the right of his nipple.
Before he could follow the droplet’s track further, Ben thrust the towel at Phil.
“Thanks.Um, could you…” Phil didn’t finish the question, but Ben could guess.
He stepped up and let Phil put his arm over Ben’s shoulders.He supported Phil over to the dresser and held him up as he pulled out boxers.After depositing Phil back on the bed, Ben turned away so Phil could get dressed in peace.
“Hey, um…”
“Hm?”Ben turned around and regretted it instantly.Phil had the towel draped over his lap, preserving his modesty, but the effect made him look like a Greek statue, firm and chiseled and utterly gorgeous.
“In the bathroom,” Phil continued, “there’s a bottle of hair oil and some lotion.Could you…”
“Oh, sure.”
The bathroom counters shone in the soft lighting, the polished marble surfaces left disturbingly empty.Ben did find toothpaste, an electric toothbrush hooked up to the charging station, and two expensive-looking glass bottles.One bore the label “hair oil” in a fancy, curving script.The label on the other one was entirely in French, but since he didn’t see any other likely suspects, Ben grabbed both and returned to the bedroom.
Phil had put on his underwear and knee brace, but it wasn’t an improvement.Now, nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs preserved his modesty.It only made him more attractive.
This impression was not helped by him rubbing lotion over every available inch of his bare skin—so many inches.Ben swallowed drily, his throat clicking.Should he offer to help with the lotion?Would he sound like a helpful coach-slash-roommate or would he segue immediately intoSilence of the Lambsterritory?
Better not to find out.Ben forced himself to sit on the chair opposite the bed, hands under his thighs to stop any wayward impulses.
“Thanks for your help.”Phil smiled over at him, which did not help Ben find him any less attractive.“It’s a shame my shoulders are fine or I could get you to do this for me too.”
Watching him rub the oil over both hands and then run them through his hair accompanied by those words made Ben get lost in a brief dream of having Phil’s back to his chest as he massaged oil into Phil’s scalp.
He needed a cold shower.
“Real shame” was all Ben could manage.
Phil wiped his hands off on the towel, balled it up, and threw it into the hamper with impressive accuracy.“Thanks.I feel like a real person again.”
“Sure.Um.Good night, then?”
“Oh, fuck, I’m a terrible host.Towels are under the sink, your bed’s made up, and if there’s anything you need, I can’t help at all.”
He looked so honestly ashamed Ben had to laugh.“I’ll be fine.I did surprise you here.”
“Yeah well, occasionally, I know what’s good for me.I know you work with him and all, but your buddy, Trout, has a lot to answer for,” Phil said as he scooted up toward the headboard.
A lump rose in Ben’s throat.Trout had more to answer for than Phil even knew.If Ben wasn’t careful, he’d end up with a similar ledger.
Chapter Three
Breezy [reading from a notecard]: Trapped on a desert island, which teammate do you want with you?Oh, that’s easy.East.I mean, Phil.He knows how to fish.Also, he’s a pretty chill dude.I would be freaking out, and I would need someone to keep a level head.
Hayes: I’m taking Bilts—Mike Vanderbilt—’cause we have a good time together.Trapped on an island, you want someone you can talk to, right?Unless I want someone who can get me off the island, then it’s East.
