Chapter 20
20
ELLIOT
B ecause I’m new to the Hockey House, some players aren’t comfortable leaving me in the house alone. You would think it was for my safety, but really, they don’t want me snooping through their rooms and finding Playboys under their beds. Little do they know, I could give two shits what gets their motors running.
So, I’m being taken, against my will, to the Infinity Arena to watch their practice. As much as sitting in an ice box for a few hours makes me want to have a Zamboni run me over, Alex will be there to keep me company.
To add insult to injury, Gerard and I have been arguing about the sleeping arrangements the whole ride there. He conveniently neglected to tell me that there was only one bed in his room. And that there’s not enough room to add a second.
“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Gerard insists as he navigates Betsy through the bustling streets. “You deserve a real bed, Elliot. You shouldn’t have to rough it anymore.”
I huff out an exasperated sigh and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Gerard, I’ve been sleeping on floors for a while now. I’m used to it. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” His eyes flicker to meet mine before focusing back on the road. “You’re a person, not a stray dog. You need a proper place to sleep.”
“And you’re a hockey player,” I retort, gesturing to his muscular frame that fills the entire driver’s seat. “You need your rest to perform at your best. I’m a librarian. I don’t need a bed as much as you do.”
Gerard’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Elliot, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not budging. You’re taking the bed, end of story.”
I cross my arms over my chest and arrange my lips in a defiant pout. “Well, I’m not budging either. I’ll sleep on the floor, and you can’t stop me.”
“Oh, can’t I? I could easily pick you up and plop you on that bed myself. I doubt you could overpower me.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the thought of Gerard’s strong hands gripping my waist and his chiseled arms effortlessly lifting me off the floor. I quickly shake the image from my mind. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let him win this argument.
“How about this? I’ll sleep under the covers, and you can sleep on top of them. That way, we both get the bed, but there’s still a layer between us. Deal?”
Gerard mulls my proposition over before nodding. “Deal. But don’t think this means I’ll stop trying to convince you that you deserve better, Elliot. Because you do.”
My heart skips a beat at his sincerity. I quickly gaze out the passenger window to hide the blush creeping up my face. Despite the blanket barrier we’ve agreed upon, the prospect of sharing a bed with Gerard fills me with a nervous energy I can’t quite shake. It’s not that I don’t trust him—far from it. But something about the intimacy of sleeping beside someone, the warmth of their body and the rhythm of their breath, feels far more significant than it should.
Especially when that someone is Gerard Gunnarson.
As we pull into the parking lot of the Infinity Arena, Gerard glances over at me. “You sure you’ll be okay in the stands while we practice? I know it’s not exactly your idea of a good time.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Alex should be here, but I brought a book to pass the time if he’s not.” I pat my backpack for emphasis.
Gerard’s eyes light up with curiosity. “Oh yeah? What book?”
“ On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Have you heard of it?”
Gerard’s brow furrows in thought. “Wait, isn’t that a song?”
“No, that’s a different ‘On the Road.’ This is a novel, a classic of American literature. It’s about these two guys who go on a cross-country road trip, searching for meaning and adventure. It’s considered one of the defining works of the Beat Generation.”
“The Beat Generation?” Gerard echoes, his head tilting slightly. “What’s that?”
“It was a literary movement back in the 1950s. Writers such as Kerouac rejected conformity and materialism and embraced spontaneity, spirituality, and raw, unfiltered experience. There’s this one part where they’re driving through the Midwest at night, and I don’t know why, but it’s always stuck with me. It’s like no matter how far we travel or how much we change, there are these constants that connect us all. The stars, the road, the search for something greater than ourselves.”
I glance over at Gerard, expecting to see his eyes glazed over with boredom. But to my surprise, he’s watching me intently and smiling.
“That sounds really cool. I’d love to read it sometime.”
I blink at him, momentarily taken aback. “You…you want to read On the Road? ”
“Yeah, why not? The way you describe it makes it sound pretty amazing. And I trust your taste.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at his words. The idea of Gerard reading one of my favorite books and discussing it with him afterward is more than I could have ever imagined happening. “I—yeah, of course, you can borrow it. I’d be happy to share it with you.”
Gerard’s smile widens. “Thanks, Elliot. I appreciate it. ”
We exit the car and make our way into the arena. The chill of the ice reaches me from many rows away. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, suddenly regretting not bringing a thicker jacket. Gerard notices my discomfort and frowns.
Without a word, he unzips his bulky duffel bag and rummages inside. After a moment, he pulls out a thick blue hoodie and hands it to me. “Here, take this. It’ll keep you warm.”
I stare at the offered garment, my brain struggling to process the gesture. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I don’t want you to get cold.”
Gerard chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through the air between us. “Elliot, I’m about to spend the next two hours skating my butt off. Trust me, I won’t be cold. Plus, I’ll be fully suited up in my gear.”
He has a point. Timidly, I take the hoodie, and my thin fingers brush against his thicker ones in the process. A tiny spark of electricity zings up my arm at the contact, and I quickly withdraw my hand.
Slipping the hoodie over my head, I’m immediately engulfed in its warmth. The fabric is soft and worn like a beloved blanket, and what really makes my heart stutter is the scent. It smells uniquely of Gerard, and I resist the urge to bury my nose in the collar and inhale deeply.
The hoodie is several sizes too big for me. The sleeves dangle past my fingertips, and the hem falls to mid-thigh. But I feel…safe. Protected, even.
“It suits you.” Gerard takes in my appearance, and something in his eyes takes my breath away. “Blue is absolutely your color.”
I duck my head and fiddle with the drawstrings. “I probably look like a chipmunk in a sleeping bag.”
“Nah, you look cu—cozy.”
Cute. Gerard Gunnarson can pretend all he wants that he only said cozy, but I know the truth. And I don’t know what to do with that information.
“Well, uh, thanks,” I stammer. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. ”
“Keep it as long as you want.” Gerard slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and shoots me a wink that ignites my insides. “It looks better on you anyway.”
He turns and heads toward the locker room, leaving me dizzy and dumbfounded. I watch him go, my eyes involuntarily drifting down to the way his track pants hug his muscular glutes and?—
“Elliot!”
I tear my gaze from Gerard’s retreating form to see Alex bounding toward me with a bright smile and a laptop tucked under his arm.
“Hey, Alex.” I try to match his enthusiasm despite the lingering butterflies in my stomach. “What’s with the laptop? Planning on getting some work done while they practice?”
His red hair flops into his eyes when he nods. “Yeah. I always work on school stuff whenever I’m here. Practices aren’t nearly as exciting as games. There’s a lot of yelling, mostly from my dad, and it can be a bit triggering.”
I want to ask if his dad was one of those demanding fathers growing up, but think better of it. Not my monkey, not my circus. “Don’t work yourself too hard, though, okay? You deserve a break sometimes.”
Alex grins and gives me a playful salute. “Aye, aye, captain! I’ll make sure to pace myself.” As we climb the stairs to his favorite spot in the stands, he asks, “How did moving into the Hockey House go? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
I snort. “Oh, it’s been a dream, alright. If by dream, you mean a chaotic whirlwind of testosterone and dirty laundry.”
Alex giggles, his nose scrunching up in amusement. “That bad, huh?”
“Don’t get me wrong, the guys have been great. But…have you ever been in Gerard’s bedroom?”
Alex’s eyes widen and he shakes his head vigorously. “Oh, no, never. I’ve only ever been in Kyle’s room. Why? Is Gerard’s that bad?”
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alex, it’s a disaster zone. There are clothes everywhere, empty energy drink cans scattered across the floor, and I’m pretty sure I saw a pizza box with mold growing on it under his bed. It’s like a tornado tore through a locker room and then decided to take a nap in the aftermath.”
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Wow, Elliot. I didn’t realize you were such a neat freak.”
I adjust my glasses and give him a haughty sniff. “Hey, I’m a librarian. It comes with the territory. You think I could handle working in a place where people constantly disrespect the Dewey Decimal System if I wasn’t a stickler for order?”
“Fair point,” he concedes with a chuckle. “So, what did you do? Did you make Gerard clean it up?”
“Ha! Make Gerard clean? That boy probably wouldn’t know a broom if it smacked him upside the head. No, I took matters into my own hands before we left to come here.”
“Wait, you cleaned his room for him?” Alex’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Elliot, you’re not his maid!”
“I know, I know.” I wave off his concerns. “But I couldn’t very well sleep in there with it looking like a frat house after a kegger, now could I?”
The memory of tidying up Gerard’s room plays through my mind like a montage in a movie. Me, gathering up all the dirty clothes before sorting them into piles. Me, wiping down every surface with disinfectant wipes until they gleamed. Me, organizing his desk and finding a stack of adorably terrible poems he’d written about hockey hidden beneath a pile of statistics homework. Gerard, watching me work while chowing down on a cheeseburger…times seven.
Being in his space was weirdly intimate, especially when I discovered what he does with old socks. That was where I drew the line.
As I dug through the piles of clothes on Gerard’s bedroom floor, a colorful lump caught my eye. I picked it up gingerly between my thumb and forefinger, only to recoil in horror when I realized what it was—a sock, crusty and stiff with some suspect white substance.
“Gerard!” I exclaimed, holding the offending article at arm’s length. “What the hell is this?”
Gerard glanced over from where he was lounging on the bed, cheeseburger number five in hand. When he saw what I was holding, his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink.
“Oh, um, I can explain…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Please do. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like evidence of your private playtime sessions.”
If possible, Gerard turned even redder. “Look, I’m a guy, okay? We have needs. It’s perfectly natural!”
“Uh-huh. And I suppose using a sock as a personal spank bank is also ‘perfectly natural’?”
“Hey, it’s convenient! And it keeps things…contained.” He gestured vaguely at his crotch with his burger.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Contained? Gerard, this thing is practically a biohazard. When was the last time you washed it? Or do I even want to know?”
Gerard had the decency to look ashamed. “I, uh…I can’t remember.”
“Of course, you can’t.” I sighed heavily and tossed the sock in the hamper with a shudder. “Look, I get it. You’re a strapping young man with a healthy libido. Choking the chicken is par for the course.”
“Wow, how many euphemisms for jerking off do you know?” Gerard asked, equal parts impressed and mortified.
“More than you, apparently.” I fixed him with a stern look. “The point is, while I figured you engage in the five-finger shuffle from time to time, I don’t need to see the aftermath. Especially not when it’s encrusted on your socks like some kind of raunchy barnacle.”
Gerard held up his hands in surrender, nearly dropping his burger in the process. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll be more discreet with my ‘personal time.’ And I’ll do my own laundry from now on.”
“Damn right, you will.” I turned back to the pile of clothes with a huff. “I may be living with you, but I draw the line at handling your crusty cum socks. That’s a bridge too far, even for me.”
Gerard chuckled as he finished off the last bit of his cheeseburger. “Understood. I promise, from now on, my masturbation habits will be as invisible as the Invisible Man’s jockstrap.”
“So, now it’s all clean and organized?” Alex asks, pulling me from the memory of Gerard and his masturbation habits.
I nod, a satisfied smile on my face. “Yep. You could eat off those floors, although I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a booming voice echoes through the arena. “Alright, boys, let’s get started!”
I turn my attention to the ice, where Coach Donovan stands with the team. They’re fully dressed in their practice gear and taking their positions on the ice.
While they practice some drills, I take stock of Coach Donovan. He’s an imposing figure, tall and solidly built, with fiery red hair that matches the intensity of his coaching style. He barks out orders and corrections, and I’m impressed at how his voice carries effortlessly across the rink.
I glance over at Alex and realize that the resemblance between father and son is uncanny. They have the same high cheekbones, the same flaming hair, and even the same ears.
“You know, I’m kind of surprised you don’t live in the Hockey House with the rest of the team,” I remark. “Especially since your dad is the coach. I would’ve thought you’d want to be in the thick of it all.”
Alex’s smile falters slightly, and he glances down at his laptop open to Microsoft Word. “I did want to. I begged my dad to let me move in this year. I thought it would be so much fun getting to hang out with the guys all the time and being a part of that brotherhood. Being with Kyle…”
He trails off, and I frown, sensing there’s more to the story. “But he said no?”
Alex nods solemnly. “He insists that I live with him in the faculty building. Says it’s ‘for my own good.’ That I need to focus on my studies and not get caught up in ‘hockey shenanigans,’ whatever that means.”
“Hockey shenanigans?”
“I’m thinking the parties, drinking, girls.” Alex waves a hand dismissively. “He thinks that if I live with the team, I’ll suddenly turn into some wild, out-of-control floozy.”
Despite myself, I snicker at the image of sweet, studious Alex going unchecked. “Does he know you’re his son?”
He laughs, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it. “I know, right? I love the team, but I’m not exactly the ‘keg stand’ type.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I bump my shoulder against his. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Alex. And if living with your dad is what he thinks is best for you right now, then that’s okay.”
“I guess.” He shrugs, but I can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “I just feel like I’m missing out on the college experience. I should be able to make my own choices, mistakes, and everything else that comes with being here.”
My mind churns, realizing that his words hit way too close to home. “Yeah, I get that. Believe me, I do.”
“You do?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve always been pretty content in my own little bubble with my books and sarcasm to keep me company. But my best friend Jackson is always pushing me out of my shell. Telling me I need to try new things, meet new people, and experience all that college has to offer.”
“And do you? Come out of your shell, I mean.”
I chuckle wryly. “Not nearly as often as I should. It’s scary, as I’m sure you know, putting yourself out there and risking rejection, embarrassment, and heartbreak. It’s much easier staying in my lane where I know what to expect.”
Alex hums in understanding. “But that’s not really living, is it? If we never take risks, never challenge ourselves…are we making the most of the time we have here?”
His words strike a chord deep within me, and a flicker of determination and possibility ignites in my chest.
“You’re right,” I murmur more to myself than to Alex. “College is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for most people. A chance to grow, learn, and discover who we are and what we want to become. And maybe it’s time I— we —start embracing that.”
Alex beams at me. “Yes! We’re young and have our whole lives ahead of us. We should seize every opportunity and make memories that will last a lifetime.”
His enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t stop the smile that threatens to be my undoing. “Okay. From now on, I’ll try to say yes to more things. To step outside of my comfort zone and see what happens.”
“That’s the spirit!” Alex claps me on the back. For a guy tinier than me, he sure packs a wallop. “And hey, you’ve already started by moving into the Hockey House. That’s a pretty big step.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. Although, I’m not sure ‘living in a house with a bunch of sweaty jocks’ was on my college bucket list.”
“But it’s an adventure!” Alex insists. “Think of all the new experiences you’ll have. The stories you’ll be able to tell your future children. Hell, I bet you never thought you’d be sitting in an ice rink wearing Gerard Gunnarson’s hoodie, did you?”
I glance down at the oversized blue garment engulfing my small frame. No, no, I did not. There’s a first time for everything, though, right? So, what’s next?
Sleeping in his bed with him right next to you.
Oh, dear. That voice inside my head is absolutely right.