Lake
LAKE
Ryk comes home with a bunch of flowers in his hand, like it’s his fault it snowed in Philadelphia. He drops his duffel and backs me against the wall. His eyelashes are impossibly dark in the early morning sunshine, and he looks tired as hell, but he’s here, so everything’s better.
He makes love to me on a pile of clean laundry I did in a fit of restless boredom early this morning.
“At least fifty percent of this pile has to go straight back to the washer.” Ryk yawns and stretches out.
I find a stray sock and throw it at his head haphazardly.
He laughs, his warm breath moving over the skin of my neck. My spent cock gives a valiant twitch.
“You smell good,” he says, the tip of his nose pressing into the hollow of my throat as he inhales. He nips at my neck before moving upward until his lips are only a hairsbreadth away from mine.
Our eyes meet, his shining with laughter.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply.
Everything is so right in the world. More right than it’s ever been. The rightest of rights.
I slide my fingers through his hair over and over again while he kisses me. He bites my lower lip, and I smile into the kiss.
Eventually, we manage to leave the bed. The fridge is empty because I forgot to order the food.
We go to the grocery store. I stand on the end of the cart, and he pushes me around while I randomly throw stuff in—whatever I’m in the mood for. After depositing the groceries at home, we get coffee from a nearby café and walk down the streets with no real destination in mind while we drink.
We get lunch at a sports bar with highlights of last night’s football game playing on screens above our heads. I try to throw peanuts into Ryk’s mouth, but my aim is terrible, so the closest I get is that one peanut that bounces off his forehead.
He makes me laugh until my stomach hurts.
We’re still cautious. Aware. But when we sit on opposite sides of the booth, he moves his foot so it’s pressing against the side of mine. He drinks from my glass and when he hands it back to me, he lets his hand linger so it touches mine. He showers me with small, light touches. They’re quick and casual, only not really. I keep blushing, and he keeps looking at me like we have a secret. I suppose we do, but right now, the secret doesn’t make me feel insecure and unsure.
It’s me and him.
Us against the world.
I can do it all when he’s mine and I’m his.
It’s impossibly sappy to feel this way.
I do anyway.
I won’t tell.
But I do.
And everything feels good for now.
Ryker gets me tickets to all his home games. Always at least two. “Bring a friend,” he keeps telling me.
I realize here’s another chance for me to make friends. To offer somebody the extra ticket. Be all, ‘Hey, you want to come to the game with me?’
I never do.
I don’t want to explain why I have the tickets or that I know Ryker or how I know Ryker.
As is becoming a custom, going alone is simply easier.
Bringing a friend only ever happens when Kelly, Rachel, or Sawyer are in town. Or, like tonight, Soren. He and Ryk played in together in college, and I’ve never quite managed to become as friendly with him as I am with Hayes. Soren is… Well, he’s loud.
Just to be clear, I’m not holding it against him, and I actually like him a lot as a person. He’s one of those people who gets along with everybody and with him there’s never a dull moment. It’s just that we’re pretty damn different, so our friendship is the kind you have with people based on proximity rather than anything else. He’s one of Ryk’s friends, so we hang out because of that and not because we have that much in common.
One other crucial difference between how I get along with him versus how I get along with Hayes is that Soren doesn’t know about me and Ryker. Partly because there has never seemed to be a good moment to have that conversation, and partly because there’s a small part of me that’s never been quite sure that Soren wouldn’t accidentally blurt it out to somebody else. I think it makes me a bit of a dick because I don’t even know him well enough to think something like that, but the feeling is just there.
We take our seats, the familiar buzzing already starting underneath my skin. It’s the electric atmosphere of the rink that just gets to people.
Plus, I like watching Ryker.
The game itself is—and I realize this is probably blasphemous to say in some circles—but the game itself is secondary for me. Most of my attention is usually reserved for Ryker.
It’s loud and just a bit chaotic, which is nice. I’m just one of the masses here, so I get to relax into my seat.
Soren is in his element. He’s playing in the AHL right now, but in his own words, making it to the NHL is only a matter of time. There’s something pretty fucking endearing about that kind of straightforward confidence.
“This is a good crowd,” Soren says approvingly as he drops into his seat after jumping up for the tenth time in as many minutes.
“It usually is,” I say.
Soren laughs and claps me on the shoulder like I’ve said something funny, but I’m not exactly sure what it could’ve been.
“So?” he calls over the music and the noise after a second. “How’s living with Ryker so far? Finding him annoying yet?”
My lips quirk into a grin. “Should I?”
“I used to share hotel rooms with him. This is a safe space.”
I bite back another smile. “I’m good.” I nod toward him. “How’s the shoulder?”
Soren has been out with an injury for his last few games, but it doesn’t look to be something that ruins his mood.
“My PT is smokin’ hot, and she dislikes me immensely,” he says. “Up until I met her I didn’t know it was possible to dislike me.”
He seems actually flabbergasted about that.
I raise my brows at him. “I didn’t know it was possible to be universally loved.”
“I had a perfect track record until her.”
“You did not.”
He presses his palm to his chest. “I’m hurt by your lack of belief in me, little bro.”
“Still not your brother,” I say with a sigh.
“The brother of my brother is also my brother.”
I roll my eyes and drop it.
My eyes latch on to Ryker the moment he skates out, and he finds me almost as soon as I spot him.
He’s damn fast on skates. I know I’ve said it a million times and thought it a million more, and I’ve watched him develop that speed from the sidelines over the course of a whole lifetime, but it’s still really fucking impressive every time I get to witness it in real time.
I’ve been to enough games by now that I can pretty easily recognize the rest of the team, too, and I’m able to follow the game, which is not something I could say two years ago.
Way to go, me. A supportive hockey hubby.
They’re playing Detroit tonight. The Blades’ fan base is both loud and loyal, and they love Ryker. And they think he’s hot. There are plenty of women with signs featuring Ryker’s name.
But, yeah, the Blades have a lot of fans, and the team is pretty dedicated to engaging with them and making appearances at community events and such.
The anthem plays, Detroit gets some loud booing from the Blades’ block, and then it’s time to play.
My eyes are fixed on the ice, so I’m not paying attention to anything else, so when somebody taps me on the shoulder I jerk back, looking around wildly. Paige sends me a wide smile.
“I thought it was you,” she calls over the noise. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect to run into you here of all places!”
I blink at her, the game and the noise fading into the background for a bit.
“Hello,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised or alarmed by this development. “What… what are you doing here?”
It’s an impolite question, and I don’t think staring with badly concealed horror is that welcoming either, but Paige just keeps smiling at me while she reaches behind herself and produces two other girls seemingly out of thin air.
“This is Kara and Stacey. It’s Kara’s birthday, and she’s a fan, so we’re here as a birthday present to her.”
“No, you’re here because you’re good friends and want to be interested in my interests,” Kara says pointedly.
“Absolutely,” Paige assures her with a teasing note in her tone. “Love me some ice. And cold. Kidding,” she adds quickly. “I’m actually really excited about this.”
“We are. Hockey sounds like fun. Plus, have you seen some of these players?” Stacey says. “Hot as fuck.”
Yeah, I’m not gonna comment on that. I mean, I agree, but I’m not gonna comment.
“We’re here for the game.” Kara rolls her eyes. “Not the, admittedly, quality eye candy.”
“You were doing so well on the not-objectifying them front for a second there,” Paige says dryly.
“I’m a work in progress.” Kara shrugs.
“Ignore them,” Paige tells me.
“It’s fine,” I mumble, awkward as ever, incapable of a normal conversation with strangers as ever.
Also, impolite as ever, because it takes Soren throwing his arm over my shoulder and shouting, “Introduce us, ,” into my ear before I remember that yeah, I should probably do that, even if it feels a hell of a lot like introducing the two sides of my life I don’t actually want to meet.
I clear my throat anyway. “This is Soren. These are Paige, Kara, and Stacey.”
Soren immediately moves over a few seats, and the girls sit down between the two of us. Soren takes Stacey in with clear appreciation, and the two of them fall into a conversation a second later.
“I didn’t know you liked hockey,” Paige says, making it sound like the two of us know anything about each other at all.
“I go to home games.”
Speaking of, the Blades look good today. Five minutes in, Detroit hasn’t had any time in the offensive zone yet and no shots on a goal.
There’s a break in the game and Beastie Boys blast from the speakers. People sing and cheer all around us.
“Oh my God.” Paige looks around with wide eyes. “Is this how it always is?”
Is the noise and the clamor a con in her book or not? I have no idea.
“It gets pretty intense, yeah,” I say.
On the ice, Davidson trips Martin Beran, and Detroit is getting a power play. They once again fail to get a shot on goal. A moment later one of the Detroit D-men skates straight into Laurent, and they end up slamming into the boards.
The crowd is up on their feet, booing loudly.
“What’s happening?” Paige asks, leaning toward me.
I send another one of my startled looks her way, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. I don’t have any idea what’s going on down there, and you clearly do. Help a girl out, would you?”
“Boarding,” Soren calls out. “He pushed him into the boards,” he explains once Paige zeroes her attention in on him instead. “He’ll get five minutes in the penalty box, and Detroit doesn’t get a replacement, so now the Blades have a chance to go on the power play.”
I watch Ryker fly across the ice. Kian sends the puck toward Ryk, and he passes it right back a few seconds later.
“Oh, wow,” Paige says as she whips her head left to right, presumably keeping her eyes on the puck.
The game gets pretty fucking rough after that. And a bit desperate. By the second half of second period, it feels like Ryk has taken about a thousand shots on a goal, but Detroit’s goalie has grown five extra arms and legs, so whatever Ryk does, the dude gets something between the puck and the net.
The game is still scoreless when the third period begins. I can feel Ryk’s frustration both when he’s on the ice and whenever his shift is over.
He gets another chance, and I’m practically holding my breath. Ryk gets the puck again and sends it flying. Detroit’s goalie fumbles and for a moment it seems he’s got it, but the puck slips through and sails into the back corner of the net.
I’m out of my seat at once, screaming like a maniac with all the people around me. Kara is on her feet, too, hugging me, jumping up and down, and it’s not even too weird. Hockey unites. Who would’ve guessed?
For the rest of the game, the pressure to behave lessens into something manageable. I don’t know where it goes, but all five of us are cheering along loudly. It helps that the last fifteen minutes are a real nailbiter. Detroit scores at the last moment, so it’s 1-1, and the game goes to overtime. Ryk skates onto the ice again. My voice is hoarse from shouting by now. For the whole five minutes, my heart relocates to somewhere in my throat as I watch.
Blades score in the last thirty seconds and take the game.
It takes a while to get out of the arena, but none of us seem to be in a hurry, so we slowly make our way outside.
“That was actually pretty cool,” Paige says, eyes moving over the rest of us. “I honestly thought I was going to hate it.”
“Told you it was fun,” Kara says with a fair bit of smugness.
Stacey doesn’t say anything. She’s too busy undressing Soren with her eyes, and he’s returning the favor while they flirt with each other.
“I think we lost Stace,” Kara says thoughtfully before she turns toward me and narrows her eyes. “Can you vouch for him?”
“I’m sorry?” I say.
“Your friend. Is he a good guy?”
“Soren? Yeah. He’s one of the good ones.”
I don’t know when exactly that happened, but Soren is suddenly behind me.
“Aww. That was sweet of you, little brother.”
Paige’s eyes widen. “Oh! You two are brothers! I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“No, we’re—” I start to say, but Soren just throws his arm over my shoulder.
“Definitely brothers,” he says with a grin. “And if you, ladies, come out to the bar to celebrate the win with us, we’ll introduce you to the glue that holds me and here together.”
Yeah, crap.
I’m starting to rapidly remember why I haven’t been interested in meeting new people, no matter how much fun I had tonight.
“What’s the plan?” Soren asks me with a wide smile.
“I… don’t know if there is a plan?” I reply hesitantly.
Aaaand he already has his phone out. “No worries. I’m texting Ryk.”
I’m not a fan of this plan at all, but I have no way to say anything.
“Any good bars around here?” Soren looks up from his phone and glances around like he’s expecting something to pop up somewhere in the vicinity.
“Oh, plenty!” Stacey says excitedly.
“Lead the way.” Soren offers her his arm, and she giggles, taking it before she glances over her shoulder at Kara and Paige and mouths, Such a gentleman , at them.
They all start to walk down the street. I hover on the sidewalk, not sure what to do. I check my phone to see if there’s anything from Ryker there, but he’s still busy and most likely hasn’t even had time to pick up his phone yet.
Then I blow out a breath and stalk after Soren and the girls.