Page 152 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

“Drama queen,” Sawyer said, probably just to see if he could flare Beckett’s temper further.

Beckett just narrowed his eyes and scowled.

“Seriously, don’t tell anyone,” I cautioned Sawyer. “We don’t…” I paused for a moment. It was weird to even say ‘we’ for us. “We don’t want that.”

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s not my secret to tell.” He shot us both a significant look. “But you can’t tell Avery I’ve moved out. He’ll be gutted.”

Beckett scoffed. “You sure Avery would be gutted? It’s more likely that he’ll exhale a little louder when you break it to him.”

“Same thing,” Sawyer said, waving his hand off. “Anyway, mum’s the word. And I’ll leave you now to dry-hump in broad daylight, discreet as you are.” He saluted with one finger and swaggered away.

Beckett gave me a worried look, bit his lips, and then tilted his head in the direction of our campus. We moved slowly while Sawyer sped off. “Do you think we can trust him to keep quiet?” he asked.

I ignored the pang of hurt that he would be so desperate to keep me a secret because I sort of understood him. I wasn’t happy with it, but I understood. And I wouldn’t pressure him even if the prospect of returning to the closet went against every instinct in my body.

Live in the moment, I reminded myself. “Sawyer is loyal to a fault. He’s probably already telling Noah, but aside from that, he won’t betray us.”

Beckett pursed his lips for a while. “Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.”

I laughed at the sight of Beckett quoting Benjamin Franklin in such a grave voice. My secret lover muttered to himself but finally nodded as if he had reached a conclusion.

“I’ll keep a watch on him,” he said.

I nodded my assent. There was no persuading Beckett otherwise. And we had only just had one conversation without killing each other or fucking each other’s brains out. Whatever this thing was, I wanted it to keep its course.

There would be enough time to worry later.

Chapter Sixteen

BECKETT

I had to give it to him. Sawyer was true to his word. As I eyed him in the common room, as well as the locker room, Sawyer acted the same as before. He was as thoroughly in character as I, which was a whole different topic. I didn’t care to think about it too much. I didn’t care to wonder when my secret would be out. I didn’t care to consider when the truth of my rocky, undefined, sexy relationship with Caden would affect the rest of my career and life.

When those thoughts closed in, I found I couldn’t breathe just as easily. So I kept them at bay.

Caden never pressed too hard. He never asked too bluntly. After our night by the river, he seemed to soften and ignore that topic as much as I did. He helped me get on PrEP on Monday, then instructed me to give it a while just to be sure. He had assured me there was no rush, then held me in his arms from behind, slipped the protection on, and made the ground shake.

I was addicted to his body. I was addicted to our nights together.

And the prospect of removing the last barrier between us excited me beyond belief. To feel him inside of me or to enter him without that thin layer of rubber seemed monumental to me. It became the focus of all my desires. I couldn’t imagine two bodies getting any closer than that. And until we had it, nothing else was enough. I needed more and more and more.

In the daylight, we pretty much ignored each other, exchanging casual glances and chit-chatting in passing. And in the nights, I was in his room, never getting tired or bored. I had him on his beanbag, discovering all the interesting ways a body could bend—especially an athlete’s body with years of finding new limits. Caden was as much a gymnast as he was a gym goer. And I had my talents, too. I could do the splits on his floor while he lay on his back, making his eyes widen and air drain. In turn, Caden would surprise me the next night, hooking his foot behind his head. He was big enough to do such unimaginable things with his own mouth that I came faster than ever, challenging him to a rematch an hour later.

We had more fun than I could remember having in years.

Even when I would notice him in the locker room after a tough game, sweaty, bruised, and undressed, I had the urge to leap at him and kiss the reddening skin he’d earned on the ice. But I couldn’t reconcile the desires of my heart and the screaming of my mind. And I didn’t want to weigh them consciously. I feared which one would tip the scales. I feared them both.

When I spoke to my uncle, I believed I sounded casual. Normal. I stuck to the topics of hockey and my captaincy.

“Yeah, but how are you?” Uncle Nate asked on Friday afternoon before a big game that week.

“Um, fine,” I said.

“Just fine?” Uncle Nate pressed on.

“Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Coach Murray’s not regretting appointing me as much as he seemed to at the start. I’m acing my exams. Well, only passing some of them. Life’s good.” But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him everything. I have a boy toy who makes everything else a little brighter. I have a place to vent all my anger and get rewarded for it. I have a lover I can’t stop looking at across the room when I really should. Those were the things that dragged my heart deep into my stomach.

Uncle Nate was not married. The life of an NHL superstar afforded him little time to settle down. And he was a heartthrob according to all the trashy magazines. Not too few girls fainted when he signed their jerseys. He was the father I had never had and the guy who had taught me how to be a guy. Would I disappoint him if he knew? And for what purpose? It wasn’t like Caden and I hoped to spend our lives together. I’d never reported my hookups to Uncle Nate before. Why should I do it now when it was with a dude?