Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

DANNY

I hurry back to my seat— Mike’s seat—and pat my pocket, making sure I have the ticket. This has turned into an incredible evening, even with the momentary miscommunication, and I’m keeping this ticket forever as a momento. I drop into my seat right before the second period starts, and Mike hands me a fresh beer. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Your other one was warm, and who knows what happened to it while we were gone.” He leans into my space as the puck drops and the ice explodes with movement. I, of course, lean in too. Because duh.

“Wait, why are the Penguins trying to get the puck in the other goal now?”

Mike turns his face toward me, grinning, and our lips are so close. I could easily lean in and kiss him, and I’m shocked at how difficult it is to hold myself back from actually doing it. What has gotten into me? His gaze drops to my mouth and then back up to my eyes, and I sway forward, unable to stop myself, but then he’s speaking and I jerk back. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice. “Each period, they switch goals. In the third, they’ll go back to shooting at the original net.”

“Oh.” I'm grateful he’s being so sweet about explaining the game. He’s like having my own personal announcer, telling me who’s doing what, even clarifying why the refs stop play. About eight minutes into the second period, the Penguins score another goal, and the crowd erupts with cheers. A few minutes after that, something happens on the ice, and players are down, fights are happening, and then one of the Blackhawks heads to the penalty box. Then I notice one of the Penguins is being sent off the ice. “What’s going on?” I wonder if he’s hurt.

“That’s Rod Buskas. He has the highest number of penalty minutes on the team, and he just got ejected from the game. So now the Penguins will be down a player for the next ten minutes, or, basically, the rest of this period. The good news is that, for the first five minutes, they're at even strength because of the Blackhawks penalty.” I sort of follow what he’s saying, and play continues, so I let it go.

The score stays two to nothing until just before the end of the second period, when the Penguins put the puck in the net in spite of being down a player. We do the beer and bathroom break again during the second intermission, and by the time we’re firmly into the third period, the Penguins score again, making it four to nothing. I’m up cheering with everyone, finally seeing the appeal of watching sports in person. This is fun! Halfway through the third period, the Blackhawks manage to score, but based on what I’ve seen in the first two periods, it’s not likely they’ll be able to catch up. Reluctantly, I glance at my watch and try to calculate how long it’ll take me to get to the bus stop and whether I should leave now so I don’t miss it.

Mike nudges me. “Have a hot date? Or is the game too boring?”

I frown, confused. “Huh?”

“You’re looking at your watch.”

“Sorry. I was trying to figure out how long it will take me to get to the bus stop.”

He frowns. “You didn’t drive?”

That makes me laugh. “As if. My dad would never lend me the car to come to a hockey game.” I don’t mention that he only grudgingly lends me one of his two precious cars to get to work. At Mike’s continued frown, I shrug. “I still live at home. Retail management doesn’t pay all that well. I’m saving up to get my own car soon, and then I’ll move out.”

“Oh.”

Shame heats my cheeks, and I turn back the game. “Yeah. Like I said, retail management doesn’t really pay that well, and my dad won’t cosign a loan. So I need a few years of work under my belt before I can sign by myself. Plus, I need a certain amount for a down payment before the bank will lend me money.” I’m pretty much at the mercy of my dad, and he likes it that way, even if he doesn’t really like me.

“Hey.” Mike nudges my shoulder until I look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I asked because if you want, I can give you a ride home after the game.”

Oh. I sit up a little taller. “Really? You wouldn’t mind? Wait. Where do you live? Am I even on your way?”

He shrugs. “I live in Dormont. You’re still in Scott Township, right? It’s just up the road. I can drop you off and be home maybe fifteen minutes later than if I went straight there. That is, if you don’t mind riding on a motorcycle.”

My brain goes all fuzzy and my body starts to buzz. Riding behind Mike, pressed against him from chest to hips? Hell yes! “I’ve only been on a few short rides, but it was awesome. Wouldn’t I need a helmet, though?”

“I have a spare.” He grins at me, expression eager. “So, is that a yes?”

I’m already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes. It’s a definite yes. As long as you’re sure.”

His grin is sweet, but his eyes sparkle with mischief, and even though I am nervous, I’m also excited. “I’m sure.”

During the rest of the third period there are a few more penalties, but they’re minor, and the game ends with the Penguins winning four to one. As the final buzzer sounds, the crowd roars, and everyone jumps to their feet. The excitement gets the better of me, and I fling myself at Mike. “We won!”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close, and as the fans start to leave, we stand there, holding each other. Mike rubs his hands up and down my back, his gaze as soft as his smile. “You ready to go?”

No. Not really. Tonight has been magical. Definitely more fun than I’d expected. And it’s been a long time since I’ve been this carefree. But now it’s ending, and I have to go home, where it’s not fun or magical. I don’t say any of that, though. “Yeah. We should.”

Once again, Mike takes my hand and leads me up the stairs and through the arena. I hold on tightly, letting him guide me outside. Once we’re clear of the majority of the crowd, he lets go of my hand so we can bundle up against the chilly February night air. Then he gestures to the nearest parking lot. “I’m over here.” It takes us about five minutes to walk to the bike, and by then, I’m seriously questioning my judgment about not taking the bus. My fingers are frozen even though I’m wearing gloves, and I can see my breath. I’ll be frozen solid by the time I get home. But the bike is pretty. It’s sleek and silver, with bright red accent stripes and more than enough space for a passenger on the long seat. Mike grins excitedly as he hands me a helmet before putting on his own. He flips up the face mask, biting his lip so he doesn’t laugh as I attempt to put on the helmet, but I can’t seem to get the thing to cooperate. Laughing, he lines it up correctly and shoves down on the top. With a gentle thud, it settles into place. “Okay, I’ll get on the bike, then you get on behind me. Scoot close and wrap your arms around my waist. Once we’re going, follow my body movements. Don’t fight the bike.” I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m going to be pressed against him. I’m allowed to be pressed against him. And no one will know if I’m a guy or a girl because they won’t be able to see my face.

Mike swings his leg over the motorcycle and settles himself, looking every inch the bad boy, making my little gay heart flutter in my chest. He starts the engine, and the bike roars to life, shocking a laugh out of me. He reaches back with his left hand, and I take it, steadying myself as I carefully step over the bike, desperately trying not to kick him or fall on my ass. When I’m firmly seated, he wraps my arm around his body, hauling me close. Oh, yes please. But as much as I’d love to focus on the excitement of the situation, and the way he feels pressed against me, this isn’t a scene from Top Gun, and I don’t want to fall off the bike. So I hang on tight as Mike pulls out of the parking lot.

At first, we crawl along in the traffic leaving the arena, but after a few minutes, we’re coasting down Grant Street, merging onto 376, and crossing the Fort Pitt Bridge. Going through the Fort Pitt Tunnels on a motorcycle feels a bit like the walls are closing in, and it’s loud as hell. But it’s also absolutely exhilarating. I’ve thought about what it would be like to walk through the tunnel, and this is probably as close as I’ll ever get since pedestrians aren’t allowed in here.

Traffic is still heavy as we exit the tunnel, so we aren’t going all that fast as we crest Greentree Hill, but by the time we’re passing Rosslyn Farms, traffic is thinning. Mike takes the on-ramp to I-79 and opens the bike up. There’s no way I can contain my grin as we fly down the highway. I lean into him, and he pats my hand quickly before putting his own back on the handle bar.

Far too soon, we’re exiting at Kirwan Heights, and my stomach starts to sink. I don’t want this night to end. It’s been incredible. A bright spot in a sea of blah days. Mike is fun. And sweet. And kind. And in another five minutes, all of that will come to a screeching halt when I step inside my house. Mike brings the bike to a stop at the light and flips up his visor, so I do too. “Hey, where am I going from here?”

“Down Vanadium Road, and just before you get to Bower Hill, make a right into that neighborhood. I’ll get more specific when we get to the stop sign.” Mike nods and puts down his visor. I do the same and get my arms around him again just as the light turns green. In two minutes, we’re turning onto Elmbrook. I point to the right, and we slowly make our way up Rockhill Road.

Before we get to my house, Mike turns into the parking lot of the local church and cuts the engine. There’s no one else around, and the only light is from the moon. He gets off the bike, but before I can ask what he’s doing, he turns and straddles the seat backward, so we’re now face-to-face. He pulls off his helmet, and with my heart hammering in my chest, I take mine off too. With a soft chuckle, he slides his fingers through my hair, fluffing it back up. “So what'd you think? Was the ride okay?”

My stomach is doing all kinds of flips as my mind tries to come up with reasons why Mike stopped here rather than taking me home. I can only come up with one, and it’s giving me a chubby. My euphoria is tempered by the thought that my father is right down the street and can never find out about this. Ever. “I loved it. The tunnel was rad.”

“Yeah, I was scared shitless the first time I rode through it on a bike.” He drags his fingers through his own dark waves, and I glance around the parking lot, unsure what Mike’s thinking or what he expects.

“So, uh, thanks for tonight. I’d have been thoroughly lost trying to follow what was going on in the game.” I risk a glance at him, and he’s watching me intently. “You made the whole night so much fun.”

“My pleasure.” He grins, and I can see his breath fog in the chilly night air, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ve never been so happy to have my seat stolen.”

Laughing, I bat at his arm. “Hey! It was an honest mistake! I don’t know my way around the Civic Arena any more than I know about hockey.”

He catches my hand and leans back from my very weak attack, grinning. “I’m happy to teach you more about the game. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“I’m working tomorrow, but the store closes at five. Why?” My heart hammers in my chest. Is Mike Graham asking me out?

“I was planning to go to The Saloon in Mt. Lebanon tomorrow night to watch the game. They’re playing the New Jersey Devils at 7:30. I could pick you up, and we could watch together, have a few beers, nothing fancy.”

I’m nodding before he even finishes. “Yeah. That sounds great. Except, how about if I meet you there?” He eyes me skeptically, and heat creeps up my cheeks. I’m so glad it’s too dark for him to see. “My dad’s…” I sigh. “It’d be easier for everyone if I meet you there.”

His smile fades. “Are you okay? To go home, I mean. You’re safe?”

“Yeah. I’m safe. I just keep a low profile and try not to engage with my dad much.” I give a little shrug. “He doesn’t like that I’m gay. Though you probably guessed that.”

“Yeah. I kind of got that vibe.”

“It didn’t stop me from flirting shamelessly with you, though.” I chuckle, embarrassed but also really happy. “I couldn’t help it. I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He scoots a little closer and lifts one of my legs, draping it across his thigh, then does the same on the other side, until we’re sitting intimately close. My quickly hardening cock is pressing painfully against my zipper, but I couldn’t care less. Especially when he leans in. “Well, I was kind of a mess in high school and avoided most people. But I’m glad I got a second chance to get to know you now.”

My heart is racing, I’m a little lightheaded, and I have a real concern that I might pass out. “Yeah, me too.”

Mike slides his hand up my thigh and grips my hip, slipping the fingers of his other hand into my hair. “Danny, I want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

I nod and try not to whimper. God, I want this so much. “Yeah.” He tugs gently on the back of my head, pulling my face close to his.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night.” And before I can say ‘me too,’ his lips are pressing against mine, the tip of his tongue gently teasing along my lower lip, and I moan, my mouth opening enough to let his tongue glide over mine. Before I overthink things, I flex my thighs and tilt my hips until I slide into his lap. The bike rocks a bit, but he steadies us, and that little scare is so worth it because now his hard cock is pressing against my ass. I whimper into the kiss and melt against him. His hands glide over my ass and up my back, pulling me even closer, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I slide my fingers into his hair, grinding down against his cock and rubbing mine against his abs. It’s been too long since I’ve done anything like this, and suddenly I’m right there, ready to come. Mike must sense it because he pulls back with a groan and carefully slides me back off his lap. “If we don’t stop, I’m gonna come in my pants.”

I lean in. “Yeah, me too. I don’t care.”

He laughs and strokes my cheek, gently holding me back as I try to lean in again. “You’re just around the corner from home. But I have a fifteen minute ride, and I don’t need a cumsicle in my pants while I do that.”

I burst out laughing, my breath forming a cloud between us, proving his point. “Yeah, that sounds awful.” I play with the collar of his coat. “But tomorrow? Maybe we could try this again, not in the freezing cold?”

“Definitely. Here.” He digs in one of the saddle bags and pulls out a small card and a pen. After several attempts to get the ink flowing, he writes on the back and hands it to me. “My phone number. Well, the front is the shop where I work, but the back is my home number. If something comes up and you can’t make it tomorrow, call me.”

I nod. “Okay. Do you have another? I can give you my phone number too.” Grinning, he digs out a second card, and I scribble my number on the back, handing it over with the pen. “That’s a private line my sister and I share. It’s separate from the main house phone. So, worst case scenario, she might answer if I don’t, but it won’t be either of my parents.”

He grins and pockets the card. “Okay, I should get you home.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine. I return the kiss hungrily, but he backs off. “Sorry. You’re so damned tempting.” My stomach does that dipping thing again, and I want to stay here in the freezing cold and kiss him some more. But Mike’s off the bike and turned around, starting the engine again before I can form words. I give him the house number, and he gently revs the engine, coasting the bike out of the parking lot and down the residential street, stopping once we get to my driveway.

I glance at the house and see the living room curtains move. My heart races, and this time it isn’t because of Mike. Quickly, I jump off the bike and hand him my helmet. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow at The Saloon at 7:30.” I don’t wait for a reply or say goodbye again. I definitely don’t wait for a kiss. Instead, I hurry toward the door, planning some version of the truth for whatever bullshit I’ll have to deal with inside. Mike’s a friend from high school. We ran into each other at the arena. He offered me a ride home so I could stay for the whole game. All the truth, though not the whole truth. I take the steps two at a time and open the front door, entering the house without a backward glance.

“You’re late.” My dad’s tone is as accusatory as I expected.

I smile at him as I shrug out of my coat. “Yeah. But we won!”

“Who was that?” This time there’s an additional sneer of contempt in the implied accusation. Because that’s what it is. Surprisingly, he doesn’t come right out and accuse me of ‘screwing him.’ He saves that for when he’s had a few too many beers. Thank god it’s cold outside so the temperature can be blamed for my beard-burned cheeks. Otherwise, there’d be no way to keep the conversation short and civil.

I glance out the front window and shrug, like the ‘who’ in question is no big deal. “Oh, that was Mike Graham. We went to high school together. I ran into him at the game.” I grin at my dad. “Can you believe it? Out of how many people, and at my first ever hockey game, I run into someone I know.” I don’t let him get a word in. It’s better this way. “Oh my god, Dad.” I roll my eyes as I hang my coat in the closet. “You’ll never guess what I did. I’m so lame. It was really crowded, and the ushers were busy, so I figured I’d find my seat by myself rather than wait. And I ended up sitting in the wrong section!” I close the closet and turn to face him. “Duh. Right? Like, all it would have taken was five minutes, and someone could have shown me where my actual seat was. But no, I had to do it myself.” I don’t add the ‘and fucked it up’ that he usually does.

He snorts and glares at me. “Too damned stubborn for your own good.”

“The game was great though. I even started following some of the rules after a bit. It was a lot of fun. Exciting.” I go into a bit of a story about different plays and give him some details he’d likely read in the paper about who scored and in what period. I get way too involved in explaining the major penalty in the second period until his eyes start to glaze over. And for the first time in ten minutes, I breathe.

Dad grunts and pushes to his feet. “It’s not football, but I guess it’s alright. I’m going to bed. Lock up.”

I don’t mention that I have a key and could have let myself into the house. We both know that, and it’s not why he stayed up to wait for me. And saying anything else would only set him off. But damn, I’m so tired of his judgment and his anger. He and I haven’t been close for a long time. I’m not what he calls a ‘manly man,’ and that’s a huge disappointment for him. He and Mom also know I’m gay. Well, not absolutely for sure; we haven’t had that conversation. But Dad’s hinted that he knows, and I haven’t denied it. But I haven’t confirmed it either. Not yet. I can’t quite afford to move, and if they knew for sure I was gay, they’d toss me out. Well, Dad would, and Mom wouldn’t stand up to him. So we all ignore that elephant in the room, and I act as ‘manly’ as I can. But it’s exhausting.

Sighing, I turn off the light, head for the stairs, and think about how wonderful tonight was. I won’t let my dad ruin what was probably the best evening I’ve had in… well, years, if I’m honest. And I’m going to see Mike again tomorrow night. It’ll be in public, which means we’ll have to act like there’s no chemistry between us. And god, there’s so much chemistry! But later, after the game, if I’m very lucky, maybe we can find a dark corner in the parking lot, and tomorrow evening will end with another kiss.