18. Kai
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KAI
I check my phone before I’m fully awake, hoping I didn’t miss something from Oskar. There’s only a message from Nico warning me not to be late to practice tomorrow, along with spam telling me the warranty on my boat has expired. Interesting, since I don’t own a boat.
After eating the last burrito of a batch I made last week before our road trip, I work on my LEGO for a while.
It’s an eleven-thousand-piece space battle, and I’m enjoying the challenge.
I don’t have as much time for LEGO during the season, but with any luck, I should finish this one by early November.
I can’t stop thinking about today. Lunch had me shaking all over, but the outdoor air settled us both enough to do things I’m not great at—face an issue, make a decision, and move forward. Choosing Oskar over what scares me is terrifying, but it also feels brave. If we don’t try, we’ll never know.
Later, after watching a TV show I like, I glance at the clock. Ten-twenty. My pulse kicks up when I can’t find my phone.
In the kitchen. By the fridge.
What an ass.
At least there’s nothing from Oskar.
But goddammit, there’s nothing from Oskar.
I double-check that the ringer’s on, pocket my phone, and go take a leak. On the way back, I stop by the living room window that looks over the river, and…
Fuck, should I send him a message?
No, he said he’d text me.
Trust him. It’s really hard, but do it for ten minutes.
Ten minutes pass slowly.
Then another ten.
I’m back by the window, thinking about throwing my phone into Jersey. Pressure builds in my chest. He’s not going to text, and I have no idea what that means. I go to the bedroom and lie down, hoping I can let this go enough to sleep. Maybe in the morning I’ll—
The phone beeps, and I grab for it. Then I cover my eyes, wait, and peek through two fingers.
Yesssssss!
OSKAR: Hey. How’s it going?
OSKAR: I am starting to sound like my teammates. It is your fault.
I’m so happy to hear from him, I cackle like a lunatic and fumble the text I send back.
KAI: Great. Give it another hour, and you’ll be chirping me and calling me an idiot.
OSKAR: I would never call you that.
OSKAR: Not right away.
I laugh again. He’s made me laugh more since that first day than I have in years.
KAI: Later then?
OSKAR: We’ll see how it goes, bruh.
KAI: Never say “bruh” again. I told you to watch what you pick up from those Fury morons.
OSKAR: Guess we don’t always get what we want.
KAI: Ass.
OSKAR: Dweeb. (Lewis taught me that.)
KAI: Goober.
OSKAR: Idiot.
What? He called me… Oh.
KAI: See, it didn’t take long for you to get there.
OSKAR:
OSKAR: What does goober mean?
I think about telling him. But fuck that.
KAI: Ask Lewis.
OSKAR: He is not as funny as you. I will look it up instead.
Fifteen seconds.
OSKAR: That is not so nice, knasboll.
KAI: What does that mean?
OSKAR: Goober.
I make a stupid face before remembering he can’t see me.
KAI: You win. When you start speaking foreign tongues, I’m whipped.
He sends a selfie of him making a goofy face. Wish I’d thought of that.
OSKAR: You have not been whipped yet, but if you want…
The fire in my face isn’t even reasonable.
KAI: Not into that, but you could…
Delete.
I request a video call, and he answers on the first ring.
My heart kicks, then threatens to stall. He’s lying on a sofa, shirtless, with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. Damn, he looks like the thumbnail for a hot porn video.
“Hi, handsome.” His grin slides into something else. Still happy, and maybe a little content. “You look amazing.”
“You’re not bad yourself. Are all Swedish men as gorgeous as you? Because it’s completely unfair if they are.”
He treats me to a smirk. “You have been playing in the HFNA for a while, so you must know other Swedes. What is your opinion?”
“There’s no contest. Nobody else looks as good as you.”
The words are out. Fuck me.
He makes me lose my mind.
After sputtering a minute, I say, “What I mean is—”
“Just leave it there, baby. I know you were not proposing.”
Now I feel like a fool. Why do I freak out over little things?
Unexpected warmth blooms in my chest, and I realize the pressure there has disappeared.
Wait! He called me baby. Should I—
No. I wouldn’t be feeling warm if I didn’t like it.
Shit.
“You got a new comforter,” he says.
I look down, a little confused, then shake my head. “Not really. I have a different cover for every month.”
He rolls his eyes. “Every month? You would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you are very organized. Perhaps the most organized person I have ever known.”
I can’t help laughing again. “Good save, Olofsson.”
“What? You’ve never called me that before.”
“Never knew you were a brother-on-ice before.”
His smile widens. “All right, if that is how you want to play it, Mercer.”
“What did you think when you found out I play hockey?”
“Hmm.” It takes him a minute to continue. “Surprised, but only because I’d thought you were a businessman. It made sense, considering some things you’d said and how fit you are. Your body has always made me…”
“Made you what?”
He blushes. “K?t.”
“My body makes you a coat?”
His deep rumble brings back memories. Thrilling ones.
“Horny.”
A lot of those memories were made in this room.
“I can say the same about you.”
His cheeks redden more. It’s easy to see where this could go, so I change directions. “I saw the Fury put Morrison on the injured reserve. That means you’ll be starting for a while, right?”
“Yes. They’re calling up a goalie from the minor league team to back me up while Morrison is out.”
“Any idea how long that’ll be? What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t think I am supposed to talk about it.” He gives me a silly glare. “Especially to the enemy.”
“I’m the enemy now?”
“On the ice, Mercer. Only on the ice.”
“Play it your way, Olofsson.”
“There is no other way to play.”
I nod. “Seriously, I knew better than to ask. Sorry.”
“No worries. I would have probably asked too.”
My hand is cramping because I have the comforter in a death grip. What are we going to do keeps running through my mind, but all I can do is stare at him.
Which is not exactly a hardship.
“Can we discuss things for a moment?” he asks. “About us?”
Apparently, mind reading is one of his skills.
“Yeah. We should.”
“I have been thinking since this afternoon. I’m glad we are going to see each other, but what is the best way? We are both very busy.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Okay. I have ideas, but I want to hear from you too. We’re doing this together.”
“Deal. You go first.”
He nods. “I’ve looked at our schedules, and they are not as bad as I feared. We are both on the road a lot, but we will often be traveling at the same time. This means we will both be home more than you might think.”
“I noticed the same when I checked the calendars.”
“Good. So here is what I want. For me, dates are a must. The day at the park was one of the best times I ever had, so they don’t have to be fancy. We can hang out and do casual things, as long as we actually do it.”
“Fine with me,” I say. “Casual I can do.”
“I do not want to hide. It would be stressful and lead to unhappiness.”
My body relaxes. “I don’t think I could hide. There are other gay and bi players on the Condors, and I’ve never hidden who I am.”
“Perfect. I will be proud to be seen with you.” Something uneasy crosses his face. “We are together, right? I am sick of hooking up.”
“Makes two of us. You know saying we’re together makes me nervous, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll explain why, but I realized something important this afternoon. I don’t want to be afraid.”
He stays quiet.
“I’m…” My voice trembles, so I swallow and try again. “I’m choosing to see what can happen. For both of us.”
“That is a big thing for you, I know.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I won’t hurt you, Kai. That has never been who I am, and you are a very special man.”
My foot shakes so much it makes my leg jerk.
Trust him. I have to try.
“You’re special too, Oskar.”
The phone screen makes his blue eyes look even sharper than usual. And he’s smiling.
I remember Nico’s warning about being on time for morning skate. Hanging up is the last thing I want to do right now, but I need to rest.
“You have practice tomorrow?” I ask. “Ours is at nine-thirty.”
“Eleven.”
“You’re lucky. Our old coach did ten-thirty or eleven. It was much better. This new one likes an early start.”
“His name is Holmer, right? He’s Swedish?”
“Yes. I like him. I don’t like early mornings.”
We go quiet, staring at each other through the connection.
After a few minutes, Oskar whispers, “I don’t want to hang up, but we both need our rest.”
“Yeah.”
Nothing happens. Our eyes are locked.
“Can we hang out tomorrow?” he asks. “We both have trips in a couple of days.”
“I’d like that. Text me after your skate?”
“Sure. And before I go, I want to tell you how happy I am about us.”
My pulse ticks up a few notches. “Me too. Talk tomorrow.”
“Hej d?, baby.”
“What?”
“Goodbye. It’s a friendly way to say it.”
Deep breath. If I’m dating a Swede, I have to try. “Hay doh.”
He leaves me with a grin. For a while after he disappears, I stare at the ceiling.
I’m doing this.