Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Axel
Where the hell is Enzo? My teammates dash inside the bus to avoid the sudden Massachusetts rain as I stare into the gray wetness.
My knuckles are cold. My neck is cold. My—
“Axel?” Coach asks from inside the bus. “Get on.”
I make it halfway up the bus steps, my shoes squeaking, then I turn to look for Enzo one more time.
No, still not here.
“We’re still waiting for Enzo,” I explain.
“Oh.” Daniela, our administrator, exchanges a glance with Coach.
“He’s probably coming soon,” I say quickly. “Let’s give him more time.”
The other guys have already taken seats, and I sit in the front, behind Daniela.
Shit.
“Does anyone have Enzo’s number?” I ask.
The others stare at me.
“None of you?”
Evan manages to look ashamed. They all should.
Enzo just moved here. He needs to feel welcome.
Daniela shuffles her papers. “I have his number.”
“Make sure he gets on the group chat,” I tell Evan.
“I will,” Evan promises.
“Maybe he’s not sure where the bus is departing from.”
“Why wouldn’t he know where the bus is departing from?” Luke asks, and I glare at him.
I hop off the bus.
“Axel!” Coach yells.
“Just going to look for him.”
A figure sprints through the rain, jacket pulled over his head, and even at fifty yards I know it’s him. I know the way he moves, the length of his stride. My chest does something stupid.
“Oh, thank fuck.” I wave my arms. “He’s here! He’s here.”
Coach sighs. “Get on the bus, Axel.”
“But—”
I get on the bus. I’m not going to become a difficult player in my sixth year playing for the Blizzards.
I plop down on the row behind Daniela and pretend that thirty confused pairs of eyes are not staring at me.
Finally, Enzo rushes onto the bus. He looks terrible. His eyes are bloodshot, the skin under his eyes is dark. “I’m so sorry, Coach! It was difficult to leave.”
Coach nods sympathetically, which makes no sense. Who has a hard time leaving their place? That’s crazy. Like he had to really admire the crown molding or something? Or was he having lots of sex with whomever he has lots of sex with?
Probably lots of people want to have lots of sex with Enzo.
They all probably want to strip him and kiss him and fuck him.
Or have him fuck them. He’s an NHL athlete.
He’s probably good at thrusting and rhythm.
We definitely have rhythm on the ice, and we hate each other.
Imagine what he’s like with people he likes.
He did awesome in LA. He was picked to go to the Olympics, just like me. Evan and I are the only players from the Blizzards who’ve been.
“Take a seat next to Axel,” Coach says.
Enzo’s face falls. He looks around. Evan and Vinnie are sitting together, Finn and Noah are sitting together, and even Luke is sitting next to his boyfriend Sebastian, who looks notably un-NHLish in a rainbow scarf, velvet blazer, and earmuffs.
All the coaching staff are on the bus in addition to all the players. It’s full. There are probably other spaces available, but he doesn’t know them, and there’s no reason he has to walk down a few rows to find them.
“It’s fine,” I say.
The bus is too warm after the cold outside, the heating cranked to compensate for thirty soaked athletes, and Enzo strips off his coat.
His Under Armour shirt clings to every muscle, his stomach hard and firm, and I turn away as Enzo sits beside me. He smells of rain and salt and an unfamiliar scent—maybe mint or eucalyptus—that must come from his hotel room. Normally he smells like cedar and citrus, and I scowl.
I brace myself for Coach to turn around and yell at Enzo, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’ll do that in private. Enzo’s eyes flutter shut.
Right. Why should I expect small talk? Like how was the last three years of your life?
The bus swings out of the parking lot, then Enzo settles against me. I turn to him slowly, and huh, he’s already fast asleep.
His head is on my shoulder, and his whole body is leaning against me.
Finn turns to look at us. He grins and makes a heart shape with his hands. “You’re cuddling!”
“Shut up.”
Enzo is tired. This isn’t cuddling. Finn is obviously crazy.
The bus winds its way through Cambridge, heading toward the highway. The bus turns again, and Enzo topples into my lap, face first.
“You’re right.” Finn eyes Enzo. “That’s not cuddling. That’s third base.”
“It is not third base,” I whisper. “And be quiet. He’s sleeping!”
Enzo snores.
“See?” I look triumphantly at Finn, thankful that Sleeping Enzo is backing me up.
“Heh.” Finn nods, but he looks confused. Noah looks confused beside him.
I guess they don’t understand anything that isn’t a micronutrient or camera angle.
“That seems pretty intimate for two enemies,” Finn says.
“Whisper,” I mouth.
I look around. Sebastian is wearing earmuffs, and I gesture to Luke. I point at Sebastian’s earmuffs.
“Earmuffs?” I mouth.
Luke beams and nudges Sebastian. “Axel likes your muffs.”
Sebastian swallows hard.
Sebastian is a TV presenter and he’s excellent at it. Luke forced us to see many episodes of Seeking Mr. Right, the TV show he used to host.
“Quiet!” I mouth in my sternest expression.
Luke’s eyes round.
Finn chuckles. “Axel wants your earmuffs, Sebastian.”
Sebastian yanks them off and hands them to me, his hand trembling.
“Thank you.”
Sebastian shoots Luke a confused look.
It took Sebastian a while to get used to being with all of us jocks, and I haven’t made things better by taking his earmuffs.
I flash him a wide grin, and he draws back but gives me a nervous smile.
I turn back to Enzo. He’s still out. In fact, a small spot is forming on my sweatpants where he’s drooling on them. It should be disgusting, but I just watch the dark spot grow. I slip the earmuffs on him carefully, proud when he doesn’t stir.
Though that means he’s really exhausted.
Huh. I don’t remember Enzo having narcoleptic tendencies. He never even needed to take naps.
I study him.
Sleep is important for healthy immune systems and body functioning in general. What is going on with him?
I let him sleep, and when the bus turns onto the highway, I keep him from shifting onto the floor.
I glance down at him. His face is buried against my leg, which I guess is unusual, but that’s what happens when you’re really sleepy. Sometimes you need sleep. I mean, sometimes I’m starving, and that doesn’t change no matter who I’m sitting next to.
Enzo looks like he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while, which is strange. He’s usually fastidious about his appearance, and though there was a time when he didn’t have any money, and we would stay in together when our dormmates ventured into Boston, that’s not the case now.
Unless… I frown. God, maybe he has gambling debts. Maybe he’s on the run from the mob.
Maybe that’s why he’s sleepy. He’s exhausted from fear. My stomach drops.
That would suck.
I never saw Enzo even use a slot machine before, but Enzo has managed to surprise me. Maybe he jumped straight to poker games or something. Maybe the Blizzards paid him an extra few percentage points more than LA, and that was worth it for him to hold off the mob.
If he’s running from the mob.
If the mob exists.
“Are you petting him?” Finn whispers to me.
I turn to him. “No.”
“Your hands are in his hair.”
I look at my hands. They are in his hair. Huh.
I lift my hands from his hair carefully. Enzo whines beneath me. I put them back quickly, and he settles at once. I slide my hands back through his silky strands, longer than normal, and he makes a small sound in his sleep and presses closer.
My whole body tightens.
I turn to Finn. “I’m making sure he doesn’t fall on his head if the bus turns again.”
“We are on a flat highway headed for NYC,” Finn says. “There are no turns in two hundred miles!”
“I think it’s sweet,” Noah whispers.
“Axel does too.” Finn smirks. “That’s why he’s hard.”
I wince.
Okay, technically I am hard. Mount Everest has made an appearance.
I need a disguise. Fuck.
I turn back to Sebastian. I point at his neck.
He freezes and removes his scarf and hands it to me. It smells faintly of expensive cologne, and I place it carefully over my lap.
“You decorated your bulge with rainbows?” Finn asks, incredulous.
I glance down. I guess it is. “I don’t want to startle Daniela if she comes down the aisle.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s seen an erection before.”
“She doesn’t need to see mine,” I whisper daintily.
“Dude, just admit you’re in a relationship with him. You don’t need to pull the whole pretending to hate him act.”
“I do hate him,” I say, affronted. “I wouldn’t pretend something like that.”
Because the thing is, when things between Enzo and me were good, it was the most amazing thing in the world. I would never have pretended to hate him when I didn’t. No way.
“And he hates me,” I say. “Mutual hatred.”
“People who hate each other don’t put their heads in the laps of their enemies,” Noah says. “Easy access to the neck.”
I blink.
“This isn’t the medieval ages,” I whisper. “No one has swords strapped to their hips anymore.”
“That would be so cool,” Luke says dreamily.
Sebastian looks concerned.
Sebastian used to be bullied in school. Maybe that’s why he was so quick at giving me his things. He’s still jumpy around jocks.
I’m going to have to apologize to him properly when we stop.
Noah and Finn giggle, then watch a video on their iPad together.
I was planning on watching a video on my iPad.
In fact, I’d downloaded a lot of them. There’s a new season of a fantasy show I’ve been watching I’ve already watched the first episode, and though nothing is as awesome as the Lord of the Rings, I’m so going to watch every episode.
It’s the sort of thing Enzo would have loved.
My iPad is in my backpack, and I would definitely wake up Enzo if I reached for it. And if there’s one thing I’ve noticed from his few days here, is that he definitely needs his sleep.
My AirPods are in the seat flap in front of me. I could maybe reach it without waking him and just listen to music or a podcast.
Still, there’s a chance if I move even that much, I’ll wake Enzo up… and I don’t want to do so. Instead I’m still holding Enzo in my lap, as he snores.
I grin. Who knew snoring sounded so fun? Maybe the polite thing for the rest of the bus would be to wake Enzo up, but I won’t do that either.
Finn catches my eye and smirks. I ignore him.
Outside, Connecticut blurs past the windows, and highway lights flicker on one by one.
Enzo’s breathing has gone deep and even, his hand curled near my knee like he’s holding on.
My fingers keep moving through his hair, gentle and slow, and I don’t stop.
I hate him.