Page 14 of Fly

“Did you tell your mom about Athena?” I asked.

He looked horrified as he pushed the door open and then held it. The aroma of chlorine hit me, drowning out the lovely smell of perfume clinging to my catcher. There were pools of all kinds and sizes here—warm and cold plunges, hot tubs, underwater treadmills, all overseen by expert therapists.

“God no,” he said, nodding at the therapists who worked with the other athletes and us. They knew our game day routine well and had the hot tub already warmed and bubbling.

“Probably wise since you generally don’t date a woman longer than two weeks,” I fired over my shoulder as we made our way to the locker room to change into swim trunks. There were several other players here, some from my team, and some from the Railers. Which reminded me of Jari, and yeah, that was happening a lot in the last week. “Hey, do you ever go to the hockey games?”

Yanni peeled his sweaty shirt off, baring a firm chest with lots of dark hair. “First off, I feel I must address your slight on me and my ability to date several women at a time. Can I help if they see all this manliness and throw themselves at me?” He motioned to his bare chest. I rolled my eyes. “Secondly, sure, as many as I can. Our schedules don’t really line up, but yeah. Why?”

I shoved my running gear into my tiny gray locker, dug into the bag of clean trunks and footwear I left here for game days, and pulled out a pair of blue trunks and black flip-flops.

“Just wondering,” I replied, tossing a look around the locker room. Lots of guys I didn’t know, which meant they were hockey players. I didn’t want to sound off about never attending their games and come across as a pompous jerk. It wasn’t that I disliked hockey, I just…I guess I never really gave it much thought. “I was thinking of going some night when we’re not playing.”

“Cool, you looking for company or are you planning a date? Athena has a sister…” He gave me a wink as he shed his clothes, then wiggled into his own trunks.

“No, no date. Just a night at the ice rink. Maybe have a few beers, eat some nachos, manly stuff.”

“You have come to the right person as I’m incredibly manly. Just ask Athena.” He flexed a nicely sculpted biceps. A few of the guys passing by high-fived him. Then the fool started naming all the women’s names rapped about in “Freek-a-Leek.”

“Ass,” I chuckled before grabbing a towel from a pile by the door. Yanni followed, prattling off more women’s names. By the time we reached the hot tub, I was ready to dunk him just to shut him up, but thankfully, he launched into another topic. Leaning back into the hot water, I tried to silence my mind, let the jets work, and Yanni’s rambling fade—but Jari slipped back in anyway, those shuttered eyes rising through the steam, even while I enjoyed the jets centered on my left shoulder.

Focus.

Once he realized I was in that place that he liked to call “The Cam Zone,” he quieted down to let me ease into the day ahead. We were starting at three today, an odd time for me as I preferred night starts, but fans seemed to enjoy the earlier starts. Since we weren’t heading to the playoffs this year, there was less pressure to perform, but I still wanted to give my best every time I walked to the mound.

After our thirty minutes in the hot tub, we moved into cooler water for about five minutes. A short walk followed, just a few circuits of the therapy area, and then a quick shower to rinse off the Epsom salts from the whirlpool. After this, I’d get to the gym for some light range-of-motion exercises and deep yoga stretches for the hips, core, and arms. Having an early start meant I would pare down some of my routine to ready myself.

After the shower, with my hair a tangle, I wrapped a towel around my middle to exit the showers. Yanni was chatting to someone on his phone when I entered the locker room, but he gave me a thumbs-up as I stepped around him. Glancing to my left, I came to a short, squeaky stop when my gaze locked with Jari’s. Those stunning eyes of his widened, and a delicate pink sheen bloomed on his cheeks.

“Hey,” I said with a smile that felt far too big for my face, or the occasion, if I were being honest.

“Hey,” he replied meekly, balling his shirt up in front of his chest.

“Nice to see you again. We’re here for hydrotherapy.”

DOH Cameron. Why else would you be in the hydrotherapy center? For ukulele lessons?

“I’m just being shown around,” Jari said, glancing behind him at a couple of hockey guys I recognized who were chatting with one of the rehab staff. “New guy and that.”

“This is my Yanni.”

Jari’s dark gaze flickered to the naked catcher having an increasingly heated conversation on his phone with someone in rapid-fire Greek. Probably one of his brothers. They shouted at each other all the time, not always in anger, just with a great deal of exuberance.

“Not my Yanni, as in my Yanni, my boyfriend. He’s not queer. He is a vocal ally, though. Not queer. Very straight. Like a ruler straight, so he’s not mine in that way.” I hiked my towel up an inch or two.

“Okay,” Jari replied, obviously unsure if I’d recently taken a line drive to the head since I was blabbering on about rulers.

“Yeah, so, he’s uh my catcher. He catches my pitches. He’s very good.” I rubbed my chest nervously. “We’re friends. Good friends. But not gay-together friends. I’m not gay with anyone right now. I’m bisexual.”

Cameron, shove a sock into your mouth right now. You’re making an ass of yourself.

“Cool,” Jari said, probably wondering about my mental stability. Two young guys around Jari’s age floated in to listen to me being a total dickwad.

“You like baseball?” I asked—always a safe subject when I was losing my shit.

“Sure,” he said, and frowned. “Don't have much time for it though,” he added in a rush, and got elbowed in the side by one of his friends. “Uh, okay, this is Mules and Becks,” he added, and we all exchanged nods.

“Big fan,” Mules said as we shook hands.