When I get back to my bed, Bodie has his arm over his eyes. I wipe up the mess we made while watching him carefully.
“Stop looking at me like that, Bryce. I’m just tired. I always pass out after coming,” he says, still hiding in the crook of his arm. “And who knew you were so attentive to your dates? Such a gentleman.”
“Is that what this is?” He finally looks at me, his face all scrunched. “A date?”
“Fuck no. When you take me out, I want dinner and flowers and candy. The whole shebang. You’re not getting off that easily.” Bodie’s playful yet stern with his expectations.
“I don’t know. This was pretty easy.”
I love that we can still laugh together so soon after. No crisis in sight found.
Except, after I throw the wet towel into the laundry basket, Bodie won’t focus on me while he pulls up his boxers. What if he’s had a change of mind? Then, he tries to get off the bed when I caress his shoulder. “Stay here with me?” I don’t usuallyhave my dates sleep over, but this isn’t a date, and Bodie isn’t just anyone. I’m discovering every day that he’s more than who I always thought he was to me.
“Okay,” he says, some of his typical enthusiasm peeking through his sleep-hazed voice.
We lie back down, and I take him in my arms the same way I did when he was sick last week. It already feels nice; familiar, and somehow I think this may turn into a habit I won’t want to break.
Bodie slowly raises his head with sleep in his eyes and offers a delicate touch of the silkiest lips I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing. “Goodnight, Bryce.”
Laying his head back on my chest that’s now swollen with contentment, he falls asleep within what feels like seconds. And for the first time in a while, I don’t feel completely alone.
Chapter Seven
Bodie
I’ve slept next to Bryce four nights in a row now , and it’s been the best sleep I’ve had in years. The one night I fell asleep in my room before he got home from work, he snuck into my bed without even waking me up. When I woke in the morning, he was wrapped around me like a starfish on its prey—and I didn’t mind it at all.
Bryce tried to have a serious conversation with me about how I’m feeling, making sure I’m not regretting anything. He’s so worried about me and our friendship. I keep reassuring him I’mcompletely happy with how things are going between us. He still promises to take things slow and at my pace, when all I want to do is discover more about this newus.
I hated getting out of bed this morning. If I could stay in bed with him all day, I would, and it’s not even about the sex—we haven’t done anything else since that first night because Bryce is so stubborn—it’s being close to him that fills up a space that felt so empty before. Even with Amber, I always felt something was missing from our relationship. I loved her since high school; we were friends for years before I asked her out, but it was a different kind of love than what I have for Bryce. I didn’t realize it until now.
Everything is still so new, though. I can’t say I’minlove with Bryce the way Amber thinks I am, but I know the way I feel for him is definitely not a typical bro-love. I can tell when I look around the locker room at some of my other closest friends, watching them get undressed and into their gear. I can see they’re good-looking guys; they take care of their bodies like they’re temples of the gods, but other than that—nothing. When Bryce gets undressed or walks around the house half-naked, it’s a different story—my dick instantly gets hard now.
“Foster, are you gearing up or what?”
“You’re always worried about everyone else, Mickells,” Davidson teases our teammate. “Worry about getting your own gear on.”
“Hey, I’m not the one half-dressed and spacing out,” Mickells calls back as he leaves the locker room.
I hurry and get my gear on before I draw more attention to my oddities. I get enough shit from some of the guys for my zoomies on the ice. I may be the goalie, but I still love to skate as fast as the rest of them. I’m glad my parents got me into hockey young—it helped channel my energy. Once I saw goalies hard at work, I knew that was the position I wanted to play. There was a lot oftrial and error in coming up with strategies that would help me focus on the puck, but I managed, and it’s all paid off. Coach told me last week I’m being scouted and could be called up any day now.
Once I’m on the ice, I warm up and get into the zone. In the middle of my shuffle routine, Mickells gives me a snow shower. From a rival team, that’s a hard no and turns into a fight half the time, but even from a teammate, it’s still annoying.
“What the fuck, Mickells?”
“Just snowing a little love, Foster.”
“Why don’t you stick to shooting pucks at me, okay?”
“Someone’s so sensitive today,” he adds as he sends a slow-moving puck my way.
The look of disdain on my face doesn’t faze him at all as he skates off with a smirk. He can be such an asshole sometimes.
I make it through the rest of practice without Mickells or anyone else ragging on me. Hardly any pucks get through me into the back of Piper’s net—yes, us goalies name our nets. When I’m playing, I’m in my element—no one can get to me—but that doesn’t stop my mind from going right back to Bryce as soon as I leave the ice. When I hit the showers, I spend longer than usual under the hot water. Thoughts of Bryce jerking us off together run rampant, and my dick has a mind of its own. There’s no way I can leave my shower stall any time soon like this. I turn the handle all the way to cold and yelp at the shock.
“You good down there, Foster?” Davidson, always the dad of the team.
“Yeah. Never better.” I force out the answer. Geez, please let this fix my little problem. No, not little—he’s a big problem. Yeah, big problem. Did I just call my dick ‘he’? Fuck, focus, Bodie.
