Chapter 23 Evan
EVAN
That night, sitting around the table in mid-March—seven months ago, now—had felt like a turning point then, and even now, stuck in my head as important.
Perry had called work the next day to tell them he could no longer accept assignments unless they had open-ended due dates. It was time, he’d told them, to put his Olympic dream first.
I’d expected him to be let go but his firm agreed without pause, even giving him a stipend so he could continue his training over the summer without worrying about his income.
He’d been pleased by that, joking that a big-time architectural firm had decided they couldn’t be outdone by my tiny, locally owned and operated coffee shop.
My boss had banners for our team, pictures, and even a signature drink called Evan’s Cherry Cream Whipp—which, I mean, I didn’t even want to contemplate how long the sweet old guy had brainstormed that name so I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him—to celebrate us.
He’d set up a fund for the team that customers contributed to, and that the team and I had agreed would be donated to a kid’s curling program eventually.
The extra money from Perry’s firm was nice to have, though with some careful management, we could have made do with mine.
Since we’d sublet our apartment to the boys from Timmins, we didn’t have that set of bills to worry about, and the team’s budget paid for our current accommodations with the rest of the team.
Now, mid-October, staring down the final month before the official Olympic Trials, I was a mess of nerves and bouncing energy no amount of practice, workouts, or running could calm down.
Sure, Perry and I sexed it up most nights, still. In fact, we had enough apparently loud sex that the others had moved us to the big room Robbie and Mikko had been sharing, because it was the most insulated from their rooms, and from the rest of the house.
Fair enough.
It was also nice, because it was one huge room with two beds.
In less than a week, Alan had also moved in there, rearranged the furniture so the beds were next to each other, and settled in.
That had happened in early summer. I was still waiting for the time when close together was all the way together, but I guess these things happened at their own pace.
That is to say, glacial.
“To be fair,” Robbie said one day when the two of us were hanging out in his room, “you’ve always been the fast and loose one.”
I threw a balled-up napkin at his head.
“Speaking truth, my dude.”
“Okay, well, that is valid and based.” I grimaced. “Maybe I’m too loose? Do you think that’s the problem? Maybe he just doesn’t want to be a number.”
“No, no.” He sat up from where he’d been lounging against the end of the bed, playing Mario Kart. “Don’t do that. You don’t get to shame yourself for being sex positive. No one else does, so don’t you start now.”
“Maybe Alan secretly does and that’s why he hasn’t—you know.”
“Llalalala no I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“I’m being serious right now, Rob.” I flopped around so my head was at the foot of the bed. “There’s been a lot of heavy petting and fooling around.”
He grunted.
“And orgasms and shit, but no—”
“Shhhhh. Shhh! Shush!”
I rolled onto my back with a long, sad groan. “Can I help it if I just want his dick in my ass?”
“Bruh, why? I hate you.”
I tipped my head enough to look at him. “Since when do you care if I talk about my sex life?”
“Since you’re having sex with my boss?”
“We’re a team. He’s not your boss.”
“He’s the boss. It’s squicky.”
“Or maybe because you’re not having sex of your own, and you’re jelly.”
“It is not that. Shit!” His character crashed and the consol played the death music.
“My turn.”
He handed over the one controller we currently had, because of our tendency to abuse them, and laid his head back on the mattress. “Okay. Maybe it’s a bit that.”
“Just jump him.”
“You know I won’t do that. You’ve met him. You know him now, and you know that isn’t how it works with him.”
He was right. Mikko was the sweetest, gentlest bunny-angel soul in a sinfully hot devil-wolf body. Robbie was royally fucked. Or not, I guess.
“I don’t know what to tell you. You want him, you’re going to have to get toppy for him.”
“Yeah, no. Not me.”
“At least Perry and I found our other half. Or third? I guess?”
“If only either of you knew what to do with him.”
“If only.”
Robbie put his hand on my arm, restricting my ability to steer my cart. “You think that’s what we need? A third?”
“If either of you want to have a really good, hard reaming ever again, I’d say so.”
“Okay, well.” He settled back and dropped his hand. “We haven’t even had our first kiss yet. He’s str—”
“Straight. Yeah. So you keep saying. Funny thing, about that. Never heard him say it.”
“People don’t generally come out as straight, though, do they?”
I shrugged. “No idea.”
“I am so fucked,” he moaned.
“Trust me, buddy, we all wish you were.”
He smacked me—which, fair.
None of that helped my dilemma of not being able to settle.
It had been bad back in the spring, before that turning point, when I’d been dying, waiting for Alan to make his move.
Then he had, only the move seemed to have aborted somewhere between cuddling and fucking and I was, once again, losing my mind.
Eventually, Robbie tossed me out of his room, almost the moment Mikko returned from a meeting and came in to strip out of the suit that looked sinfully good on him, to change into sweats, which looked equally good on him. The man was a menace.
“Remember what I said,” I told Robbie as I headed for the door.
“Maybe take your own advice.” He closed the door in my face when I turned to flip him off.
Out in the main room, Carol was asleep on the couch. I’d noticed that was his default activity any day we weren’t at the rink or otherwise training, and I had to wonder what he got up to at night that he needed so many naps.
Michael sat at the dining table, his puzzle mat spread out and a desk lamp lighting up the area so he didn’t have to turn on an overhead light.
Perry sat in the corner workspace, his computer fired up, with his back to the room and a set of headphones over his ears.
After we’d cleaned up the supper mess and I’d suggested we turn in early, he’d said he had to work.
He was still there, rendering drawings and listening to his ska music that made my head spin.
“Evan.” Alan beckoned me over to where he was sitting on the couch, although the television was off. He had his tablet in his lap and had just taken out an earbud. “Come sit.”
I did, because why not? We’d all taken to finding quiet activities when Carol was sleeping out here.
Michael got positively bear-like if we made too much noise.
Neither of them wanted to explain why it was Carol had to nap out here, instead of in his bed, but if that’s what he needed, we’d figure out how to work around it.
“What’s up?” I asked as I plopped onto the couch next to Alan, leaning over to see what he’d been watching.
For a guy as bossy and alpha as Alan, he watched an awful lot of anime and cozy mystery stories.
Currently, John Nettles’s frozen face stared out of the screen at us.
“You’ve gone back to the beginning again?
” I asked. Midsomer Murders seemed to be his go-to series that he watched, over and over.
“Don’t you know who done all the murders by now? ”
“That’s kind of the point.” He folded the cover over the screen and set the tablet and his earbuds aside. “Having something on in the background helps me think. Having it be something I know means I don’t have to pay attention to it. If it’s something I like, I can pay attention if I want.”
“Sounds specific.”
“It is.” He took my hand and kissed the backs of my fingers. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re practically vibrating.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes.” He turned my face so he could stare at me better. “I know Perry can read you without you having to tell him what’s going on, but I’m not as good at it yet. So you have to use your words.”
“I am irrationally and disproportionately worried about the Trials,” I confessed, leaving out all of the why-haven’t-you-fucked-me-yet issues.
“Because I know we’re at the top of our game as we’re ever going to get, so rationally, we have as good as or a better chance to win as any other team.
The whole thing is set up to give the best team the best chance to win, which makes sense, because we’re sending those guys to the Olympics, and we want to send the best.” I was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop, even as my brain was frantically applying brakes to my stupid mouth.
“The outcome doesn’t hinge on a single game so worrying about screwing up a game, let alone a play, is ridic—”
“Don’t do that,” Alan said gently. “It’s not ridiculous if it’s how you feel. All the logic in the world can’t talk you out of how you feel. You just have to let yourself have the feeling, then let it go.”
“I think it’s the letting go part that has me stumped. It’s like I’m swimming in it. All the time.” I took my hand back so I could pick at a split nail. “If I start drowning in all of that, that’s when it will affect my game but I don’t know how to get on top of it.”
I sensed eyes on me, and when I looked up, it was to see Michael watching us, like he’d heard me say my mood was about to affect how I played. Coach ears were like mom eyes. They always knew.
Alan took my hand, ignoring him. “Then maybe it’s time I tossed you a lifeline.” He laced his fingers in mine and stood. “Let’s go.”
I got up with him, following him as he led me to the short hallway with closets on either side that ended in the door to our room.
When I glanced back, Perry had also lifted his head. He smile-frowned at me, nodded, then went back to work.
“Let him do what he needs to do, Evan.”
“Work never used to be more important.”