CHAPTER ONE #2
“I know.” Luke grinned and winked at him, then slipped his phone into his pocket. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Tanner said, scowling at the mirror as he tried to fix his curls.
Luke was still smiling faintly as he walked away. Annoying Tanner was one of his favorite pastimes. Tanner was like the little brother he’d never had. Luke had wanted one growing up but now that he was here, he was starting to think they were overrated.
A couple of guys were still in the dressing room area as Crawford crossed through it, dodging the hawk logo in the middle of the carpet.
He lifted a hand to wish his teammates goodnight.
“A couple of us are going to O’Neill’s tonight,” Ben Estrada called out. “You coming?”
“Nope,” Luke shot back. “See you tomorrow.”
He didn’t pick up women at O’Neill’s.
People always made a face when he told them it was stupid to shit where you ate, but gross or not, the statement was true. Why invite trouble by getting involved with people he might run into regularly?
It made no fucking sense to him.
Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to pick up a woman tonight. And he definitely didn’t pick up men when the team was around.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed of hooking up with men, or whatever. He just didn’t want the rest of the team getting the wrong idea. Fine, they were all out, all proud of their fucking rainbow status, or whatever, but Crawford had never been a parade kinda guy.
He didn’t get the need to label himself and all that bullshit either.
He wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone. Been there, done that. Voluntarily do it again? No thanks.
Men were easier.
Well, maybe not the ones he played hockey with. They all seemed pretty fucking high maintenance. But men on hookup apps? Yeah, they were easy.
All the benefits, none of the bullshit.
Luke didn’t need to talk and get to know a guy first. He didn’t need to try to charm him. He definitely didn’t need to worry about getting someone pregnant. He got on, he found a guy who was interested, he got his dick sucked, and that was that.
No fuss. No muss.
He occasionally fucked them too, but it was rare.
Usually only after a loss where he was pissed at how he’d played. At the way he’d let the team down. Pounding into a tight hole, all that pent-up frustration and aggression boiling under his skin poured into someone who took every ounce of it and begged for more.
After a win like this though? Luke wanted the opposite. He wanted to sit back and relax, let someone else do all the work while he basked in the good feelings of a win and a hot, wet mouth sliding down his cock. The buzzing feeling under his skin gone in a rush down someone’s throat.
In the parking area, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, then slid behind the wheel of his 1964 Pontiac GTO. In the dark car, he navigated through a series of locked folders to get to the hookup app he used.
The team was way too fucking nosy for him to leave it right out in the open.
He scrolled through the local offerings with a critical eye. Boston wasn’t a bad city for hooking up with men. He’d lived in worse, that was for damn sure.
Despite the late hour, it was a Friday night and there were plenty of guys on. How many were bots or fake remained to be seen, but at least the odds of finding an actual human were better than on a Monday.
Luke checked out a few profiles, dismissed them quickly as being fake or not what he was looking for, then lingered on one.
Hmm. That guy wasn’t bad.
His profile said he was thirty-three years old and six foot one inches tall, which could mean anything because guys lied about shit all the time—both on the apps and in hockey—but he looked tall and had long legs, so he had that going for him at least.
No face pic, so it was hard to tell about his age, but he did have a couple of shirtless shots. The guy was lean. Not skinny, he had defined muscles, but he had the look of someone who was more into cardio than lifting weights.
Arms and shoulders were nice though.
Luke scanned through the rest of his profile and everything else checked out.
Most importantly, the guy could host and the little green dot said he was currently online.
Worth a shot.
Free tonight? he asked.
Yeah. What’re you looking for? the guy quickly replied.
To get my dick sucked.
Do I get anything out of this?
Handjob? I’ve got strong hands and I’m pretty good with them.
Okay, maybe not by hockey standards, Luke admitted to himself. He didn’t have silky mitts like Connor or Tom or Graham, capable of scoring pretty goals, but Luke could pass the puck and give a damn good handie.
The guy replied, Yeah, okay.
You can host, right? Luke never brought people back to his place and hotels in Boston were always kinda dicey. Too likely for someone to recognize him and the news to get splashed all over JockGossip. No thanks.
Yeah. Be here in about an hour? I’m in Beacon Hill.
Luke groaned, letting his head thump back against the leather headrest. Seriously? You can’t do any sooner? I just wanna get my dick sucked and go to bed.
So get your dick sucked and go to bed. It just won’t be by me.
Luke rolled his eyes. Fuck. Fine. What’s the address?