Chapter 20
MY BISEXUAL SIDE WAS A SLEEPER CELL SPY
Alex
An hour or so after our sex, my bones have somewhat resolidified and my brain has clicked back online.
After a quick shower and a change of the sheets, Elliot, Scarlett and I cuddled up in bed with two pints of ice cream.
The strawberry balsamic was a total bust, but Scarlett is content to lick the sweaty condensation from the outside of the discarded carton while I dig to the bottom of the cookie dough and Elliot complains about the movie on the tv.
“I gotta admit, as much as women have never done it for me, if I had to pick one to sleep with? It would have been Emma Thompson. Seriously, she was such a smoke show. I mean, who the hell did these filmmakers think they were, trying to convince us that a forty-year-old Emma was nothing more than a homely housewife? Fucking criminal. I don’t understand how you can like this movie. ”
“You’re so right about Emma,” I agree, completely ignoring his bitching about one of the greatest movies ever made.
“I remember watching The Parent Trap when I was a kid and being so in love with her. Especially the scene where she’s drunk and sticks her leg out of the car.
” I press a hand to my chest and gasp dramatically.
“Emma wasn’t in The Parent Trap. That was Natasha Richardson.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Trust me, Goat. I’m sure. The Parent Trap was a big one for me, too.When Meredith unbuttons the dad’s shirt and his chest hair pops out—”
“Oh my god! Yes! I totally rewound that scene, like, a hundred times. I thought it’s because I was into the hot blonde woman, but in retrospect, I was totally checking out Daddy Parker, too.”
I hold out my spoon to Elliot, watching as his lips wrap around the dollop of vanilla ice cream teeming with cookie dough pieces, his eyes sparkling in the light of the television.
“How did it take you nearly thirty years to figure out you were queer?”
He asks it like it’s a joke, and I know he’s expecting a jokey answer in return.
But what he doesn’t know is that I’ve thought about that a lot in the last few weeks.
Discovering my bisexuality has been an easy and enlightening journey for me.
I know I’m extremely lucky in that way, and while my innate sense of self and confidence certainly have an effect on the way I’ve experienced this journey, I don’t know that I’d have such a smooth sailing—or even discover this side of myself—if it weren’t for Elliot’s presence in my life.
“My bisexual side was like a sleeper cell spy. He was always there in the background, bopping around while I did my thing. He just needed you to come along and activate him. I was waiting for you, El.”
My answer hovers between us, a sort of admission, sort of brush off that keeps us sitting stagnant in this prison of our own making.
I want to say so much more. I want to tell him everything that has been brewing inside me for weeks.
That I think about him constantly. That when he’s not here, I ache for him.
That when I’m on the ice, the only reason I play well is because I want to be good for him.
That, despite all the rules and promises and reasons why not, I’ve fallen in love with him.
But the future we’ve already established, the one where we move on from one another sooner rather than later is starting to feel like a fever I can’t sweat out.
I can’t escape it, can’t outrun it. Not unless I get over my fears and cut open my chest, expose my heart, and risk bleeding out in the process.
And right here, right now, watching Elliot watch me in the glow of the TV on the wall, his hazel eyes sparkling in that way they only do when his gaze is on me, I feel brave. Not brave enough to bare my soul, but enough to say something.
“I’m so glad we met, El. Sometimes it feels like…like I’ve never been anything to anyone before you. Not off the ice, and not in any real kind of way. But you make me feel like something. You make me feel like someone.”
“Oh, Goat,” he whispers, leaning forward to gently press his forehead against mine. “You are everything to me.”
He kisses me, lazily, without rush or intention to take things further. Just a chance for the two of us to luxuriate in the feel of each other’s lips, and it decides me.
I’m going to tell Elliot that I’m in love with him, and soon. Nothing worth having ever comes easy, and Elliot Raine Baker is worth the risk.
The next morning, I’m blending up some frozen mangoes, Greek yogurt, milk and vanilla protein powder for breakfast while Scarlett laps her kitty mush on the floor and Elliot sits on the counter next to the blender.
I’ve got morning skate and he has practice, so like most mornings, we’re getting our quality time in before taking our breakfast smoothies to go.
Today, however, Elliot is glued to his phone, tapping away while kicking his heels against the cabinet below him.
“You’re awfully into your phone this morning, El. Got a new boyfriend you need to tell me about?” I ask, then wince. I hit the pulse button on the blender once more, hoping the sound of tropical fruit being shredded to smithereens will dull the insinuation that I am the old boyfriend.
“Yeah, actually. He’s the goalie for the Knoxville Bearcats. We’ve been having an affair, I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Elliot swoons in an old-timey, transatlantic accent while placing the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead.
“Okay, I might have started the joke, but now I don’t like it,” I grumble in response.
“Relax, Goat. It’s my mom. She’s yelling at me for booking her flight so early in the morning. I have to remind her that just because she uses my credit card for the plane tickets doesn’t mean I chose the flight times. She did this to herself.”
“Oh right, Mama Baker is coming out today! Are you excited to see her?” I ask, popping the lid on the blender and dividing the yellow smoothie into two insulated to-go cups.
“I am. Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” he says, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I wanted to bring her to the Hockey Cares game tomorrow night, if that’s okay with you?”
“Are you kidding me, El? Of course that’s alright!
I didn’t even know you were still planning to come to Hockey Cares!
” The event is one the NHL does every year, in which two teams are chosen to play a charity game.
We pledge money to different causes—this year, it’s the American Cancer Association—and all proceeds from ticket, food, and merch sales go to the charity of the year.
Donors also pledge amounts based on goals scored and other game-time bets.
Since the Thunder has partnered up with the rest of the San Francisco sports teams for the holiday events this year, we’ve included them in Hockey Cares night, too.
Before the game, there’s going to be an auction in which memorabilia from the teams and athletes is sold off to the highest bidders.
I know Elliot has donated a few signed jerseys and helmets, but we haven’t talked about him attending Hockey Cares since we first became friends.
“Baby, I finally have an excuse and a chance to see you all geared-up and playing the sexy goalie of my dreams in real life, do you really think I’m going to miss that?
I don’t have to bring Mom if it makes you feel weird.
She’ll be more than happy to spend her night flirting and getting tech bros to buy her overpriced shots of Fernet down on Broadway. ”
“No!” I practically fly out of my skin at the suggestion. “No, bring her! Please. I want to meet your mom. I want you both there. I love that you even thought of that, Elliot. I love…I love that idea.”
Elliot’s nostrils flare, his eyes lighting up as he cups my cheek and pulls me in close for a kiss.
“And I’ll bring Franny, like we talked about. She deserves a chance to see her Daddy in action, too.”
I can see it all so clearly. Elliot and his mom in the stands, watching me play.
Both in Thunder black and gold, Elliot with my name across his back and my favorite fanny pack around his waist. The man I love cheering me on, the way I’ve always yearned for someone to do.
The image is almost too much, I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from shedding a tear.
“Tell Mama Baker to bring her hockey lungs, she’s gonna need them cheering for me. I can’t believe you and Franny are finally going to see me play for real. My whole family watching me from the stands. Hey, maybe you could even sneak in…”
Elliot cuts me off with another quick kiss.
“I’m not sneaking the cat into the arena, baby. Don’t even think about asking.”
He hops off the counter, pulling his cropped t-shirt over his head while sliding his feet into his slip-ons by the door.
“Hey El, can I ask you something?” I say, leaning over to give Scarlett a goodbye scratch between her ears.
“Goat, Scarlett is a kitten. Even if I could somehow get her into the arena, she’s way too small for the cold ice rink. Her beans would turn to icicles.”
“No, it’s not that. I was just wondering…what we did last night…”
“You want a repeat? Fuck, me too. I feel so deliciously sore still. I’m going to have a tough time focusing at practice when all I can think about is how good you felt filling me up.”
Elliot growls low in this throat, pulling me close by the hip. That alone is enough to have my cock thickening, and now he’s the one fucking with my focus.
“Yes. No. I just…yes. I want a repeat. But I was hoping we could try it the other way around.”
“You want…”
“I want to bottom for you. I want you to fuck me. I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.”
I want every piece of you, and I want to give you every single part of me. I want to love you, and I want you to love me back.
“Jesus, baby,” he sighs, lowering his forehead to my shoulder.
I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him close, drinking in the smell of my shampoo in his hair, my soap on his skin.
I can feel his growing erection pressing against my hip, and while it arouses me, it also soothes me.
Makes me think that the effect I have on Elliot’s body can somehow transfer to the rest of him. Like maybe he can love me back, too.
“I know it’ll take some time to work up to. Maybe you can help me with finding a plug or something to—”
He cuts me off with his palm against my mouth, and I can’t help myself. I stick my tongue out and lick him.
“We’re going to talk about this more later. When I don’t have to go run laps and kick footballs and pretend like I care about anything else besides you and your tight ass. Fucking tease.”
I smile against his palm, satisfied in leaving my mark before we go about our separate days.