Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DIEGO
Slapshot whines, his nails clicking against the hardwood as he dances back and forth in front of the door.
I glance at the time on my phone and drum my fingers against my thigh with momentary indecision.
It’s around the time that Callan usually shows up after he finishes up with his clients for the day, but he hasn’t texted yet so it’s possible he’s running behind.
The park is just a block down, so if he hasn’t left Sweat yet I have time to do a lap with Slaps and get back before he shows up.
“Alright,” I say out loud, stuffing my phone into my pocket and grabbing Slapshot’s leash from its hook right next to the door.
He whines and paces a little faster while I slip my shoes on, and then we head out.
“This will have to be a quick one, buddy,” I tell him as I stop to lock the door and he tugs on the leash impatiently.
“Not that your need for a walk isn’t important, but let’s be real, you can’t walk more than half a mile without getting winded and you do have a pretty sweet setup on the balcony, so it’s not like I’m making you hold it or anything. ”
We make our way to the stairs, but since Slapshot doesn’t like to use them, or maybe because he knows just how far I’ll let him push the “cute and spoiled” bit, I scoop him up to carry him down.
“Callan’s going to come over. You like Callan, don’t you, bud?
I mean, how could you not, right? He’s nice and funny.
Sure, he’s a bit too competitive, but he manages to make it seem kind of charming, plus the man is stupidly hot.
I guess that last part doesn’t matter so much to you, but trust me, it’s a selling point. ”
Slaps snorts in obvious agreement, because he’s a pug with good taste.
I stop mid-step and swallow a laugh. Callan’s in the building, near the bottom of the stairs.
He didn’t hear all that just now, did he?
The big, cocky smile on his face isn’t anything unusual, so that doesn’t give me any clues.
I guess it doesn’t matter. If he doesn’t know by now that I think he’s charming and gorgeous then I’ll have to add “kind of an idiot” to the list.
“Hey,” he says, stopping and waiting for me to reach him.
“Hey. I wasn’t sure when you’d be here and Slaps was demanding a walk.” I hold my dog up and Callan shakes his head.
“You’re coddling him by carrying him down the stairs.” He tsks, turning around to go back down.
“Look, man, you’re a kick-ass trainer, but if you think any of your hard-ass motivation would work on a spoiled pug, you’re dreaming.”
We get outside and I set the dog down. He immediately lifts his leg on the stoop and then starts to pull in the direction of the park.
Callan falls into step next to me, and the swing of his arm only inches from mine tempts me to reach out and grab his hand for one wild second before I remember that I can’t do that if I’m going to try to keep things under wraps for the sake of locker room harmony and my career.
“Spoiled is the key word there,” he says with a laugh. “Tell you what, let me dog-sit when you’re traveling during the season and I guarantee you’ll come home to a dog who takes the stairs and doesn’t bully you into walks you don’t want to go on.”
I really haven’t thought about what I’ll do with Slapshot when I’m traveling.
If I’m honest with myself, until that meeting this morning, I think part of me wasn’t even sure there would be another season.
It would make sense for me to have Val take care of the dog when I’m away considering she’s the one who picked him out in the first place.
I’m not even sure whether Callan is being serious or making a joke, but an embarrassing kind of longing aches in my chest at his suggestion.
If he dog-sits when I’m away, I’ll be guaranteed to see him every time I come back home. There are a hell of a lot of away games during the season, and it would be damn nice to have something like that to look forward to.
“You really want to take care of him when I’m on the road?”
“Hell yeah.” He doesn’t even hesitate with his answer, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s for the same reason that I’m considering it—for the excuse to see each other again after my training is done and the season is underway.
“I could bring him along to Sweat every day. He can be the gym mascot. I’ll get him a little tank top with a logo and everything. ”
I laugh and let the back of my hand bump against his subtly; just a barely there touch that no one watching us would ever notice.
“Okay.” I let a smile stretch across my face as I look over at him, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun.
He’s smiling right back, looking just as relieved as I feel.
It doesn’t change much, but knowing there doesn’t have to be a deadline on having Callan in my life at all loosens some of the knots in my chest that I didn’t even realize were still there after my meeting with Coach Gregors.
I know it won’t be the same. He doesn’t want to be my dirty little secret, waiting at home for me while I’m traveling half the year, waiting for scraps of affection like I made Crystal do for years, but I’ll take being friends with him if I can’t have anything else beyond this summer.
Eventually he’ll meet someone else though.
My stomach twists at the thought of coming home one day and being introduced to Callan’s new boyfriend.
I know his type well enough now to know it’ll be some hot, jacked dude who’s just competitive enough to keep him on his toes.
He might not even exist and I hate him already.
I swallow around the jealous lump rising in my throat and try to shake off the thought. There’s nothing I can do about any of it, so I’m going to try to take his advice and not dwell on the negative shit right now.
We reach the park, and he stoops down to pick up a crumpled paper bag that’s lying in the middle of the walking path.
“Bet you I can get it into the trash from right here.” He wads the bag up even smaller to make it more dense.
I eyeball the distance to the nearest garbage can, which happens to be the kind with a hood, so he not only has to get it far enough, but his aim has to be just right too. I shake my head. “Five bucks says you can’t.”
He narrows his eyes and puffs up his chest, rising to the challenge just like I knew he would. “Money is boring.” He tosses his freshly crushed paper ball from one hand to the other. “And that’s not an easy shot. I want something good if I make it.”
I smirk and take a quick glance around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear if I lower my voice, then I lean in an inch closer just to be safe.
“If you make the shot, you can pick your own prize when we get back to my apartment.”
The meaning isn’t lost on him. His smile widens and lust simmers in his eyes.
“You’re on.”
He gets into a wide stance facing the can, winds up, and lobs his makeshift ball. It doesn’t even graze the rim, just goes straight in.
“Nothing but net,” he crows, pumping his arms in the air and howling with victory.
He turns to me and opens his arms, for a second I think he’s about to wrap his arms around me.
My whole body flutters with a mixture of anxiety and want, but instead he chest-bumps me, which is a hell of a lot safer in a park, surrounded by people.
I’m not even back on the ice yet and watching my every move is already getting exhausting. But what other choice do I have?
CALLAN
Slapshot takes his sweet-ass time sniffing every blade of grass in the park and stopping to get pets from every stranger passing by.
I’m not complaining though, even if my dick is already half-hard imagining all the choices I have for the prize I earned.
But we have all night, and it’s kind of nice to be out somewhere with Diego that’s not the gym or a bar.
It would be nicer if I could touch him, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Alright, buddy, I think you’ve reached your limit.” Diego scoops the dog up before we’ve even left the park. Slapshot’s tongue is hanging out and he’s breathing pretty heavily.
“Is he okay?” I lift up one of his wrinkly jowls to check the color of his gums. Not that I know what the fuck I’m doing, but it’s gotta be similar to a human, right? Pink gums are good, blue means he can’t breathe?
“I should have called it about twenty minutes ago, but he’ll be fine.
He just needs to get out of the heat and have some water.
Pugs are kind of delicate. I’ll have to make you a whole list of instructions for him…
unless you’re changing your mind already.
I’m not sure he’s exactly ‘gym mascot’ material. ”
“Are you kidding? Everyone belongs at the gym,” I say solemnly.
Besides, now that I have some kind of promise that I’ll still get to see Diego from time to time once the season starts, I’m not about to give that up.
Not that Slapshot is just a pawn in my pathetic attempt to cling to a fling that’s going nowhere.
He’s a cool dog and he shouldn’t be stuck in a kennel or with some unknown dog sitter when Diego’s on the road.
I’d never do anything to out him, but fuck, it’s hard not to put my hands on him in some way or another.
I can’t help noticing the bulge of muscle in his arm as he carries the dog home, the swagger in his step that’s more noticeable now that the stress of possibly being traded is gone, and the smile on his lips every time we catch each other sneaking looks during the short walk back to his place.
Is this what it would be like to be the long-term boyfriend of a closeted athlete?
Always on edge, making sure not to do anything someone could snap a picture of, coming up with public excuses for why we’re together at all?
If he gets asked in an interview later, I’m just his personal trainer turned dog sitter.
Personally, I’d see right through that one, but straight people try not to look too hard at excuses like that.
Could I do it? Could I be his secret for the rest of his career?
A laugh bubbles up in my throat and I swallow it down.
I’m getting way the fuck ahead of myself there.
He hasn’t exactly asked me to be his boyfriend.
Just because he’s realized he’s not straight, that doesn’t change anything else about what’s happening between us.
And I’m not about to ruin a good thing by wishing it could be more than it is.
I’ll take what I can get, and when it’s over, I guess I’ll be the dog sitter.
“Got any ideas for what you want to do when we get back to my place?” he asks in a low, playful voice, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“I’ve got a few, Fergie.” I give him a lecherous grin.
“Then why are we walking so slow?” He breaks into a jog with Slapshot tucked under his arm. “Last one to the apartment makes dinner,” he shouts over his shoulder.
“You got a head start,” I complain, taking off after him in a full sprint down the sidewalk.
He laughs and runs faster, keeping a few paces ahead of me. “I’m carrying extra weight.”
“But you also have the key.” I have to slow down to sidestep an old lady, losing a few more seconds to the lead he already has.
“Sucks to be you,” he shouts without mercy, and I laugh.
A warm feeling that’s starting to become all too familiar when I’m with Diego fills my chest. This is going to hurt like hell when it ends, but I can’t bring myself to stop it now.
I’m going to enjoy every second Diego gives me, and I’ll deal with the heartbreak later. Something tells me it’ll be worth it.