Chapter 40
CHAPTER
FORTY
Mateo
Florian and I shower, then return to the couch. I curl against him, and he strokes my hair.
“I am so happy,” Florian announces.
“I’m happy too.”
The doorbell rings. Florian and I exchange glances.
“Maybe it’s someone from the apartment building.” I hop off Florian and answer the door.
It is not the landlord.
Two people peer at me. They’re tall with big smiles and bigger muscles.
“Welcome to Nashville, Florian!” a freckled man with red hair grins at me.
The brown-haired man beside him elbows him. “That’s not our new teammate.”
“Some defensemen are short.”
“Oh my God. Do you not know how to work the internet? He looks nothing like Florian Richter. He’s the boyfriend.”
I stare at the two men.
“Mateo?” Florian comes to join me. He places a hand on my back.
“Now that’s a defenseman,” the brown-haired man says approvingly.
“I’m getting that now,” the red-haired man says.
Then in the next moment, the redhead beams again. “Welcome to Nashville!”
“Hi,” Florian says. “Carter O’Neil? And Hugo Perron?”
The two men beam.
“You know how to work the internet,” Hugo says.
“They are my new colleagues,” Florian explains.
“New awesome colleagues,” Carter adds. “Nashville is great. You’ll love it.”
Florian smiles uncertainly.
“He is correct,” Hugo says, obviously reluctant to say that Carter is correct about anything.
“Come inside,” Florian says.
Carter and Hugo enter the apartment. They look around curiously.
“We’re still decorating it,” Florian says.
“It’s awesome,” Carter says. “Look at your view!”
Florian’s lips move into a pleased smile.
“Have you been in Nashville long?”
“Oh, no,” Carter says. “We’re renting. But I’m shopping for a house. There are some great ones here!”
“Toronto houses are very small,” Hugo explains. “Short. Narrow. He is easily impressed.”
“Toronto is a city with—”
Hugo raises his eyebrow.
“Well, never mind. We are not talking about Toronto. The point is, you’ll like Nashville.”
And that’s how we find ourselves shortly after exploring Nashville with Florian’s new team members.
Music wafts from the bars, and everything is nice. Some people give us curious looks, but maybe they recognize Florian and his teammates.
Florian
Mateo and I wander Nashville with Hugo and Carter. Carter chatters happily, pointing out bars and sites and listing famous singers that I do not know.
Finally, we find ourselves in a bar. People play live music in the front. It’s not Bach. Nor Sinatra. But I find myself smiling.
Mateo glances at me, and his eyes soften. He stands up and offers me his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“Seriously?”
He nods solemnly, and I grin. I take his hand.
Mateo is—well, he still isn’t the best dancer. We’ll have to work on it. But he gamely leads me around the dance floor.
More people give us curious looks. Some people point us out to their friends. My limbs are stiff. I’m not used to being so exposed. It occurs to me that Tennessee doesn’t have the reputation for being super welcoming to people like us.
But we haven’t experienced anything bad, so maybe that’s just something New Englanders say. I am new to this country.
When I danced with Mateo at the pool, I was certain this was something we’d done all the time. I was certain it was okay, even though, in hindsight, it was our first time dancing in public.
Now my limbs feel stiffer, and I glance at Carter and Hugo. They’re both happily chatting up women at the bar, and after a moment Hugo joins us on the dance floor with a slinky brunette in a glittery tank top and leather pants.
“Are you okay?” Mateo’s tenor voice is soft.
I look down at his concerned eyes. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He leads me around the dance floor some more. The dance floor gets more and more crowded.
“Perhaps…”
“You want to lead?” he suggests.
“Actually,” I say, “I was thinking that perhaps we could go home.”
His eyes widen, and I realize it’s not Mateo’s home. No. Mateo has a flight back to Boston soon.
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods. “Okay.”
And with that we weave through the dance floor. I wave goodbye to Carter who gives us a thumbs up.
We exit the bar. It’s dark now. The sky has turned an inky black, and people chatter around us. The sidewalk is filled with students and young people. Some wear cowboy hats and cowboy boots, the uniform of people absolutely not in Boston.
The apartment complex is nearby, and Mateo and I quicken our steps.
We’ve already had sex. We don’t need to have it again.
But all I want to feel is Mateo’s body over mine. All I want to feel are his hands cupping my face. All I want to feel are his lips on—
And suddenly, Mateo pushes me against a wall, and yes, then his lips are on mine, exactly like I was dreaming of.
“Sorry,” his voice rumbles against mine. “You looked so kissable. So hot. You take my breath away, Florian.”
I smile back at him. “I always want to kiss you, Mateo. You can kiss me anytime. Anytime at all.”
“Okay.”
We make our way to the building’s entrance. The elevator zooms too slowly, which is an issue, because I want to kiss Mateo more now.
But then Mateo doesn’t really live here.
Normally it won’t matter how slowly the elevator moves.
Because the only thing that I’ll find in my apartment when I return will be emptiness.
There will be just a three-seater sofa, a coffee table, and a TV that will not be able to distract me from his absence.
“What’s wrong?” Mateo asks.
I shake my head. I won’t be glum and melancholic. I won’t be. Life is good now. Right now, Mateo is beside me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say instead.
Mateo smiles, and I know that was the right thing to say.
Mateo takes my hand when the elevator doors slide open and he leads me to the apartment door.
He takes the key from my hand and unlocks the door.
I tear off my shoes as fast as I can and hop inside.
I grab my shoes, then Mateo’s shoes and line them up beside each other.
Then we hurry over the marble floor in our sock feet, slipping over the smooth stone.
Mateo opens the door to the bedroom and ushers me inside.
He lowers me onto the bed, and I sink into the mattress. He crawls on top of me, and I look up at all his handsomeness.
I liked him when we first met.
I liked talking to him.
And I liked his hands on me.
But back then I didn’t think I could have him. Back then I was waiting for when my life plan said that I could come out. Back then I didn’t want to embarrass myself and make it so obvious that I wanted him.
He was so beautiful, so bright, and I felt foolish and naive and virginal in his presence.
But when he bends his head, I know it’s me he’s looking at with tenderness. When his lips part, I know it is my lips he’ll be kissing next.
And then suddenly we are kissing. His lips move against mine with certainty, and his tongue swirls against my own.
I am floating.
I am far from all my fears.
I am consumed by Mateo.
He raises his torso, still kissing me. His hands unbutton my shirt, which is a coordination I won’t attempt, and suddenly my chest is bare.
He moves his lips from mine, then he is kissing down my torso. He sucks on my skin, paying attention to each part. He explores each section of my body, like each section of my body means something to him. His hands are strong.
He rises again, which is a tragedy, but then he lowers my trousers and my boxers which are not exactly tragedies.
He removes his clothes, and I watch him. He smiles down at me.
I— Well, there are words I would use to describe this man. A particular phrase. A phrase that we used before but that didn’t mean what it should have. A phrase that I have no business saying to a man who is about to get on a plane tomorrow.
It doesn’t take a long time to say the phrase, even for someone who has learned English from textbooks and songs on the radio.
“I like you,” I say instead.
“I like you too.”
It’s not the same thing.
But my heart flutters all the same, and for a moment I allow myself to imagine we are all the things we are not.
For a moment I allow myself to pretend that we are that kind of a couple.
For a moment I pretend that we are the kind of couple that the people at the arena thought we were.
That we were in love and building a future together, like we are in one of the storybooks and we are living our happily ever after.
But those words are for princes and princesses in fairytales.
Mateo strokes my cheek, and I pull my mind away from all the badness that I will experience when he leaves tomorrow.
He is here now, and I will enjoy it.
His cock ruts against mine. It’s hard and leaking.
I brush my fingers over it. I want to memorize every vein. It pulses beneath me, hot and silky all at once.
I stroke Mateo.
“I’m going to miss this,” I say.
He nods, but there are tears in his eyes, and I wonder where I’ve gone wrong and said the wrong thing.
“Can I—”
“You can do anything,” Mateo promises me. “I’m yours. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.”
Then I lie Mateo on his side and curl beside him. I eye his cock tentatively. I glance up at Mateo.
“You don’t need to do anything,” he says.
“Okay.” And then I swallow the head of his cock.
I let it stretch my mouth. I suck on it.
Mateo is inside me. I move my fingers over his shaft and balls.
Mateo was crazy to think I would be in any way disappointed.
He is the perfect size to fit in my mouth.
I probably should be more forcefully sucking on him or swirling my tongue around, but all I want is to feel his cock in my mouth and to feel it press against me.
Mateo’s eyes are soft, and he smooths my hair, like he’s enjoying touching me as much as I’m enjoying touching him.
I continue to suck him and I move my fingers against his shaft and balls.
I lean my head against his thigh, and he presses his other thigh against my cheek, so that everything I see is Mateo, and everything I feel is Mateo.
Mateo’s breath comes quicker, and his fingers tighten in my hair, before he relaxes them, like he doesn’t want to cause me even the potential of pain. I whine around his cock, because more Mateo is better, and he gives a surprised gasp, then places his hands back in my hair.
I could lie here forever. This was my dream, and now it is happening, and with the best man in the world.
His cock pulses in my mouth, moving faster and faster. His hips inch forward, then he slides back. I can handle Mateo though.
I move my mouth down, moving from his head to his equally velvety hard shaft.
“You don’t need to—” Mateo gasps. I dart my gaze up to him. He looks in awe. He looks like he’s experiencing pleasure. I raise an eyebrow. “Well, you could…”
I resist the impulse to chuckle and instead continue to run my lips over his shaft. My hands cup his ever-tighter balls.
“Florian,” Mateo says, “I’m going to. I will—”
And then he does.
Cum fills my mouth, and now all I can see, all I can feel, all I can smell, and all I can taste is Mateo.
I move my head up slowly, removing myself from him.
“Florian…” Mateo says. His voice is overwhelmed, and when I glance at him, he gives me a fond smile and shakes his head, then collapses onto the bed. I lie down beside him, then pull him into my arms. His heart rockets against mine, and I realize mine is also rocketing away.