4. Allen
On Friday morning, Allen rolled over on his soft, warm bed and looked for his phone to check the time, only to see a message from an unknown number pop up on his screen.
There was only one person it could be since most recreational hockey games were played on Friday and Saturday nights.
He had been waiting for this text—dreading it—over the last two days. Honestly, Allen was shocked it took Jake this long to message him after he had seemed so keen when he dropped him off.
Part of him thought the experience was an illusion caused by the cold temperatures while waiting in the snow for a bus, but reading the text swiftly squashed that pipe dream.
I will pick you up at 7
Wait. Do you work tonight?
If you do, I will leave you alone
Sorry
Jake was cute. He was so cute that he was making Allen’s teeth ache from sweetness overload.
He paused before he sent a response so he could think things through. Allen knew Jake was bi and interested in having a boyfriend, but what could he offer a basically virginal guy who appeared to have a good job, judging by the car he drove.
It wouldn’t be fair to get feelings involved if Allen turned out to be a financial disappointment in the end. But remembering the way Jake looked at him, he doubted he was going to wiggle out of this.
Not for a while.
There was no harm in fooling around, and Allen wasn’t a goddamn nun, so he texted Jake back and gave him confirmation that he was going.
And that’s how Allen found himself in Jake’s car, driving through the cold toward what he knew would be an equally cold rink.
“No Riley today?” Allen asked, then checked the back seat for Jake’s friend, finding it empty.
“No,” said Jake.
Allen raised an eyebrow, waiting for more of a response, but Jake was watching the road.
When the silence stretched on for too long, Jake finally noticed the lack of conversation, and his gaze snapped to Allen’s before quickly looking away.
“Sorry, talking is…hard for me.” Jake gripped the steering wheel like he wanted to strangle it. “Riley was pissy today, so I dropped him off before coming to get you. Maybe a long warm-up will calm him down.”
That was better.
“Pissy?” Allen was fighting back a smile at how adorably nervous Jake was. “Is he like that often?”
Jake shrugged.
Allen waited.
Jake ducked his head, like he was being scolded. “The new guy who was traded to the Citadels, he’s an asshole. He’s acting cocky for someone who’s on a farm team, and he’s been chirping Riles nonstop, hence his bad mood.”
Hockey boy drama was so funny to Allen. He didn’t miss it at all.
“You played, right?”
Allen cringed and tried to cover it up with a laugh. He had no idea how Jake knew about his sordid past when he worked so hard to forget it ever happened. “I played, but not a lot.”
Jake stayed quiet, but his eyes kept flicking from the road to Allen, his face growing redder by the second.
Allen bit back his comments as long as he could, but he eventually gave in. “What?”
Jake moved to shrug again, but he stopped mid-motion. “Uh—it’s just…picturing you playing hockey is…hot.”
Oh, this poor boy was smitten.
Deciding to be cheeky, Allen flashed Jake one of his most playful and flirty smiles. “Careful, Mousey. You don’t want me to start something that will make you late for your game.”
Jake swallowed audibly, blushing so hard Allen wouldn’t have been surprised if steam started shooting from his ears.
“I would let you,” said Jake, and his voice was steadier than Allen expected it to be.
Apparently, Allen had to try harder.
“But, at least let me take you on a date first.”
A date? Jake wanted to take him out on a date?
No. No way.
“Sure,” said Allen. “Where are we going?”
Jake had fully regained his confidence now that he had Allen right where he wanted him. The smirk was back, though it couldn’t quite hide the flush still burning in his cheeks.
“Downtown, after the game tonight. My favourite restaurant is on the waterfront.” He hesitated for half a second and glanced at Allen, looking flustered. “No need for sex to be on the table. Just talking is fine.”
Nope. Allen was going to fuck him because, without sex, that would make it a real date. He didn’t do real dates.
“When you drop me off after,” Allen leaned across the center console, making sure Jake could see him in his peripheral vision, “you’ll be coming up to my apartment, and then I’m going to show you my stick handling skills.”
Jake took the turn into the arena parking lot hard enough to make the tires squeal.
“Fuck.”
Allen grinned and straightened in his seat. Fuck was right, Jake had no idea what he was getting into.
Admittedly, Allen was a bit rusty in the sex department, but he heard it was like riding a bike.
Jake was scowling by the time he parked. The moment the engine cut off, he leaned forward over the wheel and drew a deep breath.
“I’m not sure if I can go in there like this.”
Allen’s ego was soaring. It didn’t matter if Jake was easy to rile up because of his damn age; he would take the hard-on as a compliment.
“Need me to help you—”
“No!” Jake jumped up, eyes wide with panic. “You go in. Sit behind my bench. I want you close.”
It wasn’t the most articulate sentence, but it still made Allen’s pulse race.
He figured he would be nice and give the poor guy a break, so Allen saluted him and got out of the car.
It was freezing out. Allen jogged to the doors and entered behind a group of rowdy teens who were talking about getting snacks while roughhousing. The girls in the group exchanged exasperated looks, and Allen felt a wave of sympathy for them.
Teenage boys were annoying.
A large group of people were gathered near one of the food stands, and Allen chose to avoid it in favour of finding his seat, but a voice shouting his name made him stop.
“Ally! Wait!”
Ally? Really?
Allen watched as the tall, blond and gorgeous puckhead trotted over to him, sweaty from his warm-up and half-dressed in gear. Riley had a nice smile that included all of his teeth, and his green eyes were bright with mischief as he came to a stop.
“Why are you here alone? Didn’t Mouse walk you in?”
Allen hadn’t spotted Riley through the mass of fans he had been signing autographs for; otherwise, he would have tried harder to blend in and stay out of sight.
“Are you that big of a deal?” Allen asked, unsure of how to word his question without it sounding rude. He gestured to the people still eagerly looking to catch his attention.
Riley took no offence. His mouth was already sliding into an unserious smile as he waggled his eyebrows at Allen. “Why? Are you worried you picked the wrong friend to date?”
“We’re not dating,” said Allen. “Jake is still in his car, probably playing with his lumber.”
He wasn’t sure if Riley would catch on to the meaning behind his words, but there was only a second of confusion that manifested in a blink, and then Riley was somehow smiling brighter.
“Oh, you fucking minx. He’s going to be in no shape to play tonight.”
Allen couldn’t say he’d ever been called a minx by a straight guy before, but it made him chuckle.
“I’ll walk you to your seat,” Riley offered before Allen could try to walk away. “I know where it is.”
Allen tried to keep his expression neutral. “Why? Does he keep the seat booked in case he wants to show off to a potential hookup?”
Riley’s smile faltered, but he revived it before Allen had a chance to worry. He touched his hand to the small of Allen’s back to lead him forward, waving at the nearby fans.
“Jake isn’t like that,” said Riley. “He’s not into hookup culture. He wants a cute wife, a house, and maybe a dog—not meaningless flings.”
Allen wasn’t a cute wife, not even close. He was a dork and a part-time seductress when he wanted to be, but he wasn’t the marriage type.
“Keep the gender out of that word,” Riley continued, cutting Allen off before he could complain. “Mouse wants someone to come home to, it doesn’t matter what you have going on in your pants.”
Okay, fair. But Allen refused to believe he was that person.
“What if I have a tentacle?” Allen asked.
Riley sharply sucked in a gasp, choked on it, and then began coughing.
“Oh fuck—he’s going to have so much fun with you.” Riley clapped Allen on the back, nearly knocking him onto the long bench that sat behind the players’ section. “Please be his boyfriend. I’ll pay you for the entertainment value alone.”
Allen would have told him off, but the guy sitting on the other end of the bench beat him to any kind of conversation.
“Is this really what you losers from Nova Scotia do on Friday nights?”
Allen came to an abrupt halt, causing Riley to bump into him. Thankfully, his balance was still decent, and he was able to stop himself from falling, but his relief only lasted until Riley shoved past him to posture at the stranger.
“The fuck are you doing here, Sloan?”
Great. It was time to whip out the toxic masculinity.
Allen peered around Riley’s broad shoulders to study the newcomer, who looked like every other idiot hockey player with shaggy white-blond hair and a sneering expression. He was handsome, but it was the anger in his gaze that was throwing Allen off. It was like he actually hated Riley.
“I’ll go wherever the fuck I want to go,” said…Sloan, which was probably his last name. “It’s no wonder you haven’t been called up yet. How much time do you spend playing pointless games with washed-up has-beens?”
“You haven’t been called up either, dickhead,” Riley shot back.
They were starting to draw a crowd, and Allen was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. He grabbed the sleeve of Riley’s sweater and yanked hard enough to draw his attention away from whatever dick-measuring contest was happening.
“Don’t you have a game to play?” Allen hissed. “Get out of here before I kick the back of your knees and toss you on the ice.”
Sloan couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sound of the music and the climbing voices, but something must have shown on Riley’s face to make his brow quirk up.