Chapter One
Declan
"There he is, Denver’s top scorer,” Rodgers croons as I step into the locker room.
Throwing a glove at him, he snatches it mid-air with a grin, narrowly missing his face, showing everyone exactly why he’s our number one goalie. That makes me want to try again…harder.
“Don’t jinx me, asshole,” I tease, tugging off my jersey and collapsing onto the bench, sweat soaking through my base layers. “The season’s barely started.”
“Dude, if you play like last year, and I keep catching those beautiful biscuits, we’ve got the Championship in the bag this—”
“What part of don’t fucking jinx it do you not get, Rodgers?” Clay Shields, our captain, yells, cutting him off before the curse can be sealed. “Hit the showers and shut the hell up.”
Laughing, I stretch out my legs, the guys playfully pushing and shoving Rodgers on his way past. My lungs still burn, my thighs ache, and the cold metal of the bench bites through my damp pads, but if Coach came in and said we were running another period just for funzies? I’d be the first out on that ice.
Thank God, the final buzzer sounded.
5-2, baby. 5-fucking-2.
Levi, my linemate and closest friend since starting college, plops down beside me with a groan, yanking off his helmet and raking a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “Tell me you saw how I decked Boston’s player in that last period, man.”
“I saw him trip over his own blades if that’s what you mean.” Leaning down, I unlace my skates, my fingers stiff from gripping my stick all night.
“Whatever. No one can be as good as you, Mr. Hat-Trick-In-Every-Game.”
“Not every game.” I push to my feet and shrug off the rest of my gear before slinging a towel around my waist. “Besides, some people strive for greatness; others are born with it.”
I smirk, but it’s mostly for show. Levi and the guys eat that stuff up.
I’m not the cocky type and never have been.
Yeah, I’ve got talent, but talent doesn’t keep you on the ice.
I still grind like hell, same as everyone else.
Sometimes harder, trying to prove I deserve the hype.
But a few good nights, a couple of decent shots and, suddenly, I’m Mr. Hat-Trick.
Winking, I dodge his lazy attempt at a kick and walk backward toward the showers, blowing him a kiss as I go. Steam curls around the room, sweat and disgusting athletes’ stench hanging thick in the air, the scent only a hockey player could love.
Adrenaline and something heavier surge through my veins like twin waves.
It’s the fire under my skin, the kind that only comes alive when I’m skating and hearing the puck slam into the back of the net.
It’s the goddamn high of being out there with my teammates, bringing home the win.
And if I can keep up this pace, nothing can stop me.
Last year, as a freshman, I played my ass off.
No shortcuts. Extra weight training before classes.
First on the ice when everyone else trudged in half-asleep.
I didn’t just love the game; I studied it like my life depended on it.
Because, well…it kind of does. It’s the difference between living the NHL dream or nothing.
On the ice, I know who I am. Off it, I don’t.
While the team partied or chased girls, I was in my dorm, stretching, rolling out my hips, visualizing every damn play until it was inked into my brain. You don’t hear your name whispered near the Hobey Baker Award as a freshman without sacrifice.
I didn’t love going out, but that didn’t mean I never let loose.
I wasn’t some virgin athlete protecting my virtue.
I might not have hit every party on campus, but when I did?
Being an out, hotshot hockey player had its perks.
Plenty of guys were more than willing to keep me company for a night.
Especially on the nights when the need to get Cooper out of my head becomes too much to do alone.
The only problem? The morning after—who am I kidding? Sometimes, a few hours later—was always the same. Empty. Alone. Regret louder than any home crowd. Because no matter what I tried, no matter who I hooked up with, I always thought about him.
What started as fun, and for Cooper, still is—amazing, sweaty, hot-as-fuck fun—my heart never got the memo. They say the saddest love stories involve the gay guy pining for his straight best friend. But what if we’re both gay?
Spoiler alert: still no fairy-tale ending.
This is why I didn’t try to kiss him before that night in high school.
There’s a reason why friends-with-benefits never works out.
Yet, every time I’m with him, every time I tell myself to stop, knowing nothing good can come from having Cooper’s body pressed against mine, watching his face in quiet ecstasy as pleasure overtakes him, I don’t listen.
Cooper is the drug I’m too addicted to quit.
A certain blue-gray-eyed, curly-haired guy with a laugh that cracks open my ribs and freckles that only appear in the summer. The same guy I kissed at the end of senior year. The same one who suggested we fool around, explore, in the safety of our friendship.
Only for him, it wasn’t complicated. It was curiosity, closeness, just another way to be us.
And that’s the thing about Coop; he gives so much without ever realizing how much it means to me.
Every look, every touch feels like more than it is.
And that’s on me for reading into it. He’s all warmth and light, too busy chasing songs and stages to notice the way I’m trying not to chase him.
Married to the dream. That’s our running joke.
NHL or bust, record deal or nothing. Like that excuses anything or explains why I’m too chickenshit to ask him for more than what we already do now.
So yeah, who knew kissing the best friend you’d had maybe-too-friendly thoughts about was a bad idea?
Turns out, lust isn’t the only L-word I should have been worried about.
“Dude,” Levi says, stepping into the cubicle next to mine, his voice barely rising over our teammates still riding the post-game high. “I’m so excited for winter break.”
The hot water burns over me as I tip my head back, soothing my cramping muscles. I stand there for a beat, letting the stench of sweat and stink soak in with the steam.
“Nearly two weeks off school. What’s not to be excited about?” I say, wiping suds away from my eyes.
Even with the messy, complicated, and totally frustrating feelings I have for Cooper, I can’t wait to see him. Months away make me miss the hell out of him, and it’s not even the prospect of potentially hooking up. It’s just him. Even if he is painfully unaware that my heart beats solely for him.
Hope’s a fickle bitch, whispering maybe when there’s only ever going to be no. Unrequited love doesn’t kill you; it just makes you stupid enough to keep coming back for more.
It’s fucked up, a shitshow, a goddamn train wreck. And yet, I can’t let go. His constant calls, stupid memes, texts at 3 a.m. just to ask what I think of a lyric, I wouldn’t change them for anything.
Tell that to the last-minute decommitting from Michigan to Denver before starting college, dumbass.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t only pick DU because of their NHL track record. Maybe it had something to do with putting a whole lot more distance between me and the boy I couldn’t stop wanting.
New city. New country. New start.
Except…everything comes back to him anyway, doesn’t it?
“Any plans?” Levi asks, shutting off his shower as I do the same. “You going to see that music boy of yours while you’re there?”
My hands stop cold as I re-wrap my towel around me, fingers pinching the edge of the rough cotton.
“We’re just friends.” I keep my voice light, practiced to a fine art after years of deflecting questions like that.
But it doesn’t stop the words from burning my throat.
They always do. People have been asking us that forever, nudging, teasing, assuming, and I’ve always been the one to shut it down.
Usually before Cooper can even open his mouth.
It’s dumb, but part of me worries that if I don’t, someone else’s joke might make him pull back, might make him see me differently.
Make him notice the thing I try hard to hide.
Funny how the smallest lie can sting worse the more you say it.
Just friends.
Always just friends.
Shoving open the door, wet feet slapping against the tiled floor, I head back into the locker room. Levi’s hot on my heels, and tension rises in my shoulders before I’ve even realized they’ve stiffened.
“Riiight,” he says, dragging out the word. “And that’s why he calls you every night?”
I snort, forcing a laugh as I focus on getting dressed. “You clearly don’t know anyone like Cooper. The guy doesn’t understand the concept of silence.”
Levi grins, towel slung around his neck, but his eyes stay on me for a second too long.
“So…music boy,” he says again, voice casual in that way people sound when they’re not being casual at all. “You guys ever…?”
“No.” It comes out fast, harsher than I mean it to.
“Not even once?”
I glance away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Suddenly, he smacks his hand on his thigh and barks out a laugh.
“I knew it!”
“Leave it, alright,” I hiss, tugging on my tie until it’s near suffocating around my neck.
“How can I leave it when you’re fuck—”
Glaring at him, he quickly looks around, lowering his voice. “—fucking your best friend?”
“I’m not—It’s… complicated.”
“No shit. Why the hell am I only hearing about this now? When did it even start?”
“Final year of high school.”
“Final year—” His voice rises again, going an octave higher before he clears his throat. “Shit, dude. No wonder you’re so picky when we’re out.” He grimaces, face scrunching like he’s trying to figure out an algebra equation. “You don’t actually have…feelings for him, right?”
Huffing out a breath, I grip the edge of my locker, that closed off, boxed-in feeling sneaking up my spine.
“Daaamn,” Levi whistles low.
“It’s not like I planned it, okay.”
Because I didn’t. It wasn’t like one moment changed everything for me.
It was…small things. Him trying and failing to learn the rules of hockey so he’s always screaming the wrong things from the stands.
Or him showing up at my door with his guitar because he said his music sounds better when I’m listening.
Or that slow smile he’d give me when I leave all the blue Sour Patch Kids because I know they’re his favorite.
It wasn’t a lightning strike. It was slow, steady, like gravity pulling me in. And by the time I realized I was falling, I was already gone.
Our kiss eighteen months ago changed everything.
I spent the rest of senior year watching Cooper out of the corner of my eye, wondering if it had wrecked everything or rewired it anew.
By the start of summer, I’d kept everything that kiss pushed to the surface carefully contained, unwilling to risk the friendship that meant more to me than anything.
But Cooper suggested we fool around. No labels, no expectations.
Easy, harmless fun. I agreed, thinking I could keep my growing feelings separate.
It would be fine. Couple of months before I needed to leave for college.
I could do it. Instead, I lost my heart to him piece by piece.
Levi watches me too closely, waiting for me to hand him the rest of the story, and it grates on my sanity. I finally blink out of my stupor and force a smirk, glancing down at him still sitting on the bench. “Do you get nosy with everyone, or am I just lucky?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
Zipping up my bag, I haul the strap onto my shoulder, my phone buzzing in my pocket. Pulling it out, I try—and fail—to stop the smile from spreading on my face when I see the new message notification added to the long list of others that Cooper’s left throughout the game.
“Let me guess…it’s him, right?” Levi teases, slinging an arm around my shoulder and peering to look at the screen. “What time is he calling? Or do I have time to drag your ass out for one beer at the after-party?”