CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tanner bounced a few times on his toes in the hallway outside Leif’s door, trying to work up the nerve to knock.
Okay, so Leif was pissed. And, well, that was fair. Matty had been right that Tanner had definitely crossed a line.
He hadn’t meant to, only the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. Story of his life, right? He was probably better at stuffing his foot in his mouth than he was at hockey, and that was kinda saying something at this point.
Ahh, fuck. He couldn’t say shit like that to Leif either or he’d think Tanner was rubbing their win in his face. He had to get this right.
In Tanner’s head, the comment about channeling his dad’s talent had just been a bit of chirping.
A bit of banter. He wasn’t trying to rub Team USA’s victory in his face or anything.
Tanner respected how well the Nordic Team had played.
They were damn good and it had been a hard-won victory for the US.
Tanner had felt fucking awful when he saw the look on Leif’s face. The heartbroken, crumpled expression like Tanner had kicked him in the chest and knocked all the wind out of him.
Now, Tanner bounced once more, glanced up and down the hallway to be sure it was still quiet on the floor, then rapped sharply.
Even from the other side of the door, he could hear the heavy sigh Leif let out and the rustle of his clothing as he walked toward it.
Tanner scrunched up his face, trying to get rid of the grin that had been permanently attached to him since they’d won the semifinal, then realized Leif was probably staring at him through the peephole.
He tried to make his face do something normal and neutral as he wondered if Leif would even open up.
Should he knock again? Should he say something? His texts had all gone unanswered.
But, after what felt like forever, he heard the sound of the dead bolt opening, the lock click, and then Leif was staring at him.
He looked … well, he kinda looked like shit. Somehow both hot and like shit. He was half-dressed in the suit he’d worn earlier, his shirt unbuttoned, his tie undone and hanging around his neck, and his hair a fucked-up mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it.
That should be my job, Tanner thought, then felt confused about where that had come from.
“Come to gloat some?” Leif asked with a heavy sigh as he leaned against the doorframe.
Honestly, it was kind of a good look. Like if someone pointed a camera at him and took a picture, it would have that sort of effortless pouty pose they always used in, like … perfume ads or whatever.
Tanner idly wondered if Silje Vang had taught her son to pose or if Leif had picked it up from her without realizing it. Maybe it was genetic.
But his eyes were too sad for any of it to be truly hot.
And then Tanner realized Leif was staring at him, looking more and more annoyed by the second.
“No, no,” Tanner said quickly. “No gloating. I came to apologize. If you’ll let me.”
Leif sighed but he straightened, tossing his hair off his forehead as he stepped back.
Tanner slipped into the room, and he had his arms around Leif’s waist before the door even closed.
Leif stood there stiffly, not touching him, and Tanner realized that maybe he needed to do the apologizing thing before he did the hug it out and make it better thing and fuuuuck, he was bad at this.
Tanner let go and backed up, wincing. He had no trouble with hookups.
He knew how to apologize to someone if he fucked something up or made them feel weird or uncomfortable in bed or whatever.
And hockey dudes were pretty easy. You fucked up, you tussled about it in the locker room or on the ice during practice, and then it was over.
But Leif was … Leif. And he’d always been fucking complicated. He wasn’t just a hookup or a hockey dude. He was … well, Leif.
And that shouldn’t make sense but it also kind of did and fuuuuuck, Tanner needed to get the words out of his fucking mouth now.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I, uh, I really fucked up.”
“No fucking shit, Clayton,” Leif snapped, stepping back and turning away.
Ahh fuck, they were back to Clayton now. And Tanner hadn’t even realized it but he’d liked it when Leif called him Tanner instead of Clayton.
Tanner let him go because he was pretty sure he’d end up with a black eye if he tried to grab him again. And also, that was kind of weird and creepy and Tanner was trying to be the opposite of weird and creepy.
He was trying to be supportive and apologetic or whatever, but he wasn’t so good at that.
Because hurting Leif made him feel like shit. And it clearly also made Leif feel like shit, which was even worse.
“I’m sorry! I’m … dude, I’m really fucking sorry,” Tanner said, walking farther into the room because he felt like if he didn’t move, he’d explode or something. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I wasn’t thinking.”
Leif turned to look at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you ever?”
“I try,” Tanner admitted. “I’m just … not very good at it.”
Leif cracked a smile. It wasn’t a very big one but it was something, so Tanner took it and ran with it.
“So, we know I’m kind of a dumbass. And I, uh, definitely speak before I think, which is what happened today. I wasn’t trying to say losing the game was your fault or anything.”
The little smile at the corner of Leif’s mouth disappeared.
Shit. Tanner scrambled to come up with something he could say that would be better. “You were awesome. Honestly. Like … your hockey makes me horny.”
Leif snorted. “Everything makes you horny.”
“Well, true,” Tanner said. “But think … extra horny. Like I’m not even trying to be dirty here but your stick handling and your speed and holy shit, your dekes are fucking incredible.
And when you go tearing up the ice and split the D that way, or bat the puck out of the air while you’re going and just carry it up the ice … it’s fucking hot, dude.”
“Yeah?” Leif arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“And you were so goddamn good today. You just … you had bad puck luck. Honest. And, also, your team kinda needs better defense but that’s not your fault.”
Leif scowled, but he also nodded, so Tanner took that as a win.
“So, like … the game totally could have gone the other way.”
“I don’t know about that. Your guys were pretty fucking dialed in today,” Leif said slowly, like he didn’t really want to say it but he kinda had to, and it made Tanner smile.
“But I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“It’s not very sportsmanlike,” Leif said, his lemon face back.
“I know. And it was totally the wrong time to say it. I guess … I guess I was thinking this was more like the All-Star games, you know? Where no one takes it super seriously.”
Leif scowled. “This is way more than that. Unless the league changes its policy, I might never get a chance to play for Team Norway in the Olympics. Yeah, this is a made-up tournament and I had to wear some weird Nordic team jersey rather than Norway’s colors, but this might be the fucking closest I get to that other than at Worlds. This was a big fucking deal to me.”
“Ahh fuck,” Tanner said because he hadn’t quite realized how seriously Leif took it. “I thought it was just a normal chirp but as soon as I said it, I realized I crossed the line.”
“Yeah, you fucking did.”
“So, I’m sorry.” Tanner stepped closer. “I—I hate the thought of you being mad at me.”
“I’m always—”
“No you’re not,” Tanner pointed out. “You’re usually annoyed by me but it’s fun for both of us. This isn’t fun, Leif.”
He sighed and sat on the end of the bed. “No, it’s not.”
“So I feel bad about that.”
Leif looked up at him and Tanner had the weirdest urge to reach out and cup his cheek and just, like … hold him or something.
Leif sighed. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Tanner said. “Like … okay, I forgive you? Or, okay, I heard what you said but get the fuck out of my room we’re not doing this shit anymore?”
“The first one.”
Tanner couldn’t hide his smile this time. “Yes. Victory!” He fist-pumped.
“You didn’t win this,” Leif pointed out.
“I know.” Tanner bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m just glad that you’re not, like … done with our, uh, hookups, or whatever. Because it’s been fun.”
Leif frowned, silent for a moment before he spoke. Each word coming out slowly. “It has been, but I’ve been wondering. What if—what if it’s been a distraction? What if I didn’t play as well as I should have because we’re hooking up?”
Tanner winced because he’d kind of been afraid Leif was gonna leap to that conclusion. And he’d just flung himself off the cliff, apparently.
“I mean, maybe,” Tanner admitted. “Like … only you would know. But, uh, you’ve been playing pretty well, dude. The team overall wasn’t doing a ton to help you.”
“I suppose.”
“Honestly,” Tanner said. “I think the problem is, you just don’t have enough queer dudes on your roster.”
Leif cracked a smile. “There are a few. They’re just not super public about it.”
“I get that,” Tanner said, even though he totally didn’t. Or, well, he got it. He knew it wasn’t safe for everyone to be out or whatever. But he definitely couldn’t imagine it for himself.
Tanner plowed on. “I’m just sayin’ maybe it gives guys an advantage, you know?”
“Maybe. You really don’t think I played like I was distracted?”
Tanner snorted. “Fuck no. If you’d have been any more dialed in, we’d have been fucked. I was the one who was super out of position on a couple of plays. I’m gonna get my ass reamed for it at video review tomorrow.”
“So, uh, speaking of tomorrow, technically I could go home now.” Leif rubbed the back of his neck.
Tanner grimaced at the thought. “Are you going to?”
Leif shrugged. “I dunno. Some of the guys are staying through to the end. I hadn’t decided yet.”
“It would be kinda cool if you stayed,” Tanner said. He walked forward until he stood between Leif’s knees and settled his palms on Leif’s shoulders “So we’d have more time to keep doing this and all.”
“You want me to stay for you, huh?” Leif smiled up at him, just a little.