CHAPTER FORTY
J ason
THE LOCKER ROOM HUMS with post-practice chatter and thuds of lockers slamming shut. I’m toweling off when Coach walks in with someone behind him.
At first, I don’t register the guy’s face. Just the fact he’s got slick dark hair, and looks like he stepped off a magazine shoot.
Wait.
I squint. “What the hell is a Los Angeles player doing in our locker room?”
The room quiets fast. Troy straightens next to me, eyes narrowing. Axel turns around and freezes.
“This is Enzo Bellanti,” Coach announces. “He’s joining us for the remainder of the season. He received special clearance from the league to transfer early, given Dmitri Volkov’s... situation.”
The moment the name “Enzo” leaves Coach’s mouth, Axel drops his water bottle. It hits the floor with a loud clack.
He doesn’t pick it up.
Axel stares at Bellanti like he half expects Bellanti to pull out a machete and slice up our uniforms.
Bellanti’s face pales. His lips thin. “Good to be here.”
No one breathes.
“This is ridiculous.” Axel glowers at Coach. “You’re making a huge mistake. This man is untrustworthy. He’s here to sabotage us.”
Coach and Bellanti exchange a glance, and I dress quickly.
“You two need to talk,” Coach says. “No one is in the arena now...”
“No way,” Axel says, then he storms off and slams the door.
My teammates are silent. Bellanti is one of the more aggressive players, and he and Axel have gotten into fights on the ice, but there’s no reason for Axel to react the way he has.
Besides, Bellanti is good. I don’t want anyone to replace Dmitri, but getting a first-line player from Los Angeles to take his place is a huge win for Coach and the team.
Still, we’re loyal to Axel. He clearly knows something terrible about the guy.
The locker room is silent. Tension grows. Bellanti’s face takes on a green tint, then he yawns.
“I need coffee,” he says. “Where is it?”
The room is silent save for the rustle of clothes being pulled off. Twenty people try not to look at him.
“I’ll take you,” I say finally. I know what it’s like to have the whole team hate you, and I don’t know if Bellanti deserves it or not.
The others stare at us as we leave, and I lead him through the Blizzards’ immaculately decorated corridor. Mr. Tanaka put so much money into this place.
“So you came from California?” I ask. “That must be far from Boston.”
“You’ve been there before,” Bellanti says. “You know the distance.”
I dart my gaze to him. “It sounded like you specially requested to come here.”
“I did.”
“You don’t seem happy about being here.”
“Why should I be? It’s cold here. It fucking sucks.”
I raise an eyebrow. Maybe Bellanti is weird. Is that what Axel hates about him?
I show him into the break room. It’s a sleek, glass-walled lounge with matte-black espresso machines used to trade gossip ranging from trade rumors to Tinder fails.
Protein bars gleam from their bright plastic packaging, but Bellanti heads straight for the machines with a longing look. He picks up a pod.
“That’s decaf.”
“Oh.” Bellanti drops it and shudders. He picks up another one, looks at me, and I nod. He fiddles with the coffee machine, yanking the top open.
“I’ll show you.”
“Sorry. I’m exhausted.”
“Did you take the red-eye or something?”
“No.”
I wait for him to add more, but he’s silent. I hand him the coffee, then notice a stain on his shirt.
“You have something there.”
He glances at it, then his face reddens.
Could Axel be right? Did Los Angeles put him here to sabotage us? No. No way. That’s not how hockey works.
Bellanti is a great player, but he looks like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of a coffee machine.
“It’s been a difficult few months,” he says. “My sister died.”
“That’s terrible.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “I need to speak to Axel. Do you know where he lives?”
“I-I don’t think Axel would want me to give you his address.”
His face falls. “You’re probably right. I’ll ask Coach.”
I furrow my brow. And people think I’m strange.
I want to tell Cal all about it. I wonder what he thinks.
I can see him tonight.
I frown.
Why did Cal promise me he wouldn’t tell anyone? Does he think I want to keep him a secret?
But of course. He must think that. And don’t I?
For a moment, air flows into my lungs, straightening my shoulders, and steadying my pulse. Dad won’t know. Gramps won’t know. Team management won’t know.
But if I came out... Well, Coach or my teammates wouldn’t mind.
Do I want to sneak around with Cal?
Because the thing is... I don’t.
Unfortunately, the only option I have is to tell everyone. Which is embarrassing. They’ll probably say I had internalized homophobia and maybe all those stories with my hookups will come out again.
But there are worse things than embarrassment. The island taught me that. I wasn’t completely sure Cal and I would be rescued. Maybe if Rex hadn’t personally flown down, we wouldn’t have been. I shudder.
I pull out my phone and stare at it.
“Larvik! Bellanti! Come to the locker room!” Coach roars.
We scramble back to the locker room.
“I have a new announcement,” Coach says, his voice gruff. “As you know, the team’s masseuse was rarely here. Some of our players were sneaking into the room to do... non masseuse activities.”
“Seriously?” Troy asks.
Finn and Noah’s faces are way redder than they were before. So is Luke’s.
Huh. I had no idea.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that the massage room is strictly for massage,” Coach says. “No happy endings.”
“Sounds kind of sad,” Troy says.
“Our new massage therapist starts tomorrow. Please don’t give him a hard time.” Coach’s eyes narrow.
For some reason, he’s looking at me.
Wait. “Is he gay?”
Groans sound. Coach’s eyebrows shoot up. Disappointment flashes on my teammates’ faces.
“That’s none of your business,” Coach says.
“I-I don’t mind!” I stammer. “If he is. Just so you know. I have no problem with that at all.” I sweep my head around. “With anyone who is in a same-sex relationship. Or who might be thinking of one-day having one! Like if Troy decided to fall in love with a man, it would be no big deal.”
Troy’s face reddens. He starts to cough. “Why me?”
“Why not?”
Other players turn to him.
Troy swallows hard. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Why limit yourself to half the population?” I continue, getting into it. “Like breasts are awesome.”
“That’s right!” Axel bumps fists with me and grins happily.
Bellanti scowls from the corner of the room.
“But,” I say, “I mean, have you thought about how great dicks are? How they grow? And harden? And spurt out cum you can eat?”
Troy blinks. Evan and Vinnie stare at me. In fact, everyone is.
“I mean, not like instead of getting food or anything,” I clarify.
“And it usually takes a while for it to come out. You have to stroke the shaft, suck on the head, play with the balls. Get to really know it. Maybe it likes soft licks or fast licks. Or it likes being really sucked, so you can feel every vein, the smoothness of the skin, the way it jerks and grows in your mouth. Maybe it likes it when you take it all the way down your throat. When you press against it, so it fills your nostrils, and your whole world is salty and musky and warm, and the scent fills your body.”
My voice slows. The air turns heavy.
I can practically taste it.
Troy licks his lips.
He’s not the only one.
“They’re good at filling you up,” I continue, barely aware I’m still speaking.
“Stretching you. Making you feel like there’s nothing else in the world except that pressure.
That rhythm. Thrusting in and out of you, steady or fast or slow, until your breath stutters.
Until you’re writhing with pleasure. Until you explode. ”
Okay, everyone is definitely staring at me now.
I force myself to shake my head and attempt a nonchalant smile. “I just mean that dicks have good qualities.”
“Do you often think about their good qualities?” Finn asks, his expression somewhere between amusement and concern.
My chest thumps.
I want to tell them everything. I need to speak with Cal.
“Well.” Coach clears his voice. “That was educational, Larvik. Glad to see we can retire your title of ‘Most Homophobic Athlete in Professional Sports.’ Though in the future, ease up on all the anatomical detail.”