That Time We Faked It (Time On The Ice #3)

3. CAL

CAL

Sleepless Nights and Gay Best Friend Ambitions

I hadn’t fully understood it, but I felt good—really good—despite spending hours on my feet in shoes that were more about making an impression than being practical for bartending. I knew I'd regret the choice when it came time to slip on my skates tomorrow—well, technically today. Still, as I opened the door and saw Mouse smiling back at me, I couldn’t help but mirror the grin.

Without missing a beat, I launched into a performance, spinning little lies about my night like a kid trying to cover up staying out too late. I was on autopilot, tossing out stories like I’d been out raising hell, when in reality, I’d spent the night working my cute little ass off. And the kicker? I’d actually had a blast—more fun than I’d had in ages. There was something about Jack’s bar, a kind of fantasy world that felt like my little secret.

My thoughts drifted back to Jack himself, remembering the way he’d first looked at me with something close to disdain, but if you caught him at just the right moment—when the crowd was buzzing and he thought no one was watching—you could see something softer. A flicker of quiet pride washed over his face, like he was exactly where he was meant to be. It made my heart ache, with want.

I didn’t know what it was about Jack that kept pulling me in. Maybe it was because he was safe—someone I could flirt with, even lust after, but I knew he’d never break my heart. And, honestly, who doesn’t love a little eye candy? No harm in that, right?

But what thrilled me most, more than the pride Jack had in the bar itself, was the thought that maybe, just maybe, that softer look in his eyes had something to do with me. Yeah, I liked to think I had that kind of effect.

Being part of the local LGBTQI+ scene in Vancouver kept me on my toes, no doubt about it. Between skating and my role on the committee, I was in deep—balls-deep, honestly. Events, meetups, networking—you name it, I was all over it like glitter on a drag queen. So, naturally, when I dropped a little hint to my crew about this hidden gem of a gay sports bar, they pounced on it faster than you could say "death drop." I knew they’d love it.

With a satisfied smirk, I said my goodnights and retreated to my room, the soft click of the door behind me was a comforting signal that the day’s chaos had finally come to an end, and with-it exhaustion hit me like a tidal wave, one I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to.

The idea of a shower crossed my mind, but that would have to wait. Right now, a quick nap seemed like the perfect cure for my worn-out soul.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up after a solid four hours of actual, blissful sleep. Now, I know to some people that might sound like nothing, but for an insomniac like me? It was basically winning the lottery. I dragged myself out of bed, still groggy, and stumbled toward the shower, doing my best to tune out Shane’s endless pacing and muttering in the hallway. Honestly, note to self: never live in a house with four other men unless you’re ready to embrace all their weird little quirks. And trust me, I say that with all the love in my heart, because the idea of them all moving out to live their couple’s fantasy somewhere else? That scares me more than I’d like to admit.

Back in my room, I settled onto my bed, crossing my legs as I grabbed my phone. A smile tugged at my lips as I scrolled through social media, taking in all the posts from fellow queers buzzing about the latest “ hot spot” —our hidden gem of a gay sports bar—and, of course, the even hotter bartender. I tried not to let the green-eyed monster creep in. He wasn’t mine, after all, no matter how much I liked to pretend I had discovered him first.

But in the world of dating, "finders keepers" didn’t exactly apply. As much as I’d love to claim Mr. Lumberjack as my own, I knew better than to play that game. No, I had something else in mind—something way more fun. My goal? To drive him absolutely mad with my antics. Not in some delusional attempt to turn the straight guy gay through sheer charm (though I won’t lie, the fantasy’s crossed my mind). No, I was determined to become his most annoying gay best friend ever. And let me tell you, he’d love it. I’d make sure that bar was packed every night, just so I could selfishly catch glimpses of that damn smile.

Everyone’s got their hobbies, right? Mine just happened to involve toying with the object of my affection while secretly pining for him. What can I say? Being a gay man in his twenties was never supposed to be simple.