Chapter 1 #2
He shrugged. “It was cool. I focused on hitting the weights and started a new eating program.” As he turned a grin on me, he held up an arm and curled it, showing off his thick bicep. “What do you think?”
“You look awesome. You’ll have to tell me your secret.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. I could probably stand to put on about ten more pounds myself, being as I was one of our D-men.
He stopped at our front door and flung it open, then motioned to me. “Go ahead. After you.”
“Thanks.” I stepped inside and stopped. “So, junior year for you and senior year for me.” I gave him a warm smile.
With his father working in the NHL doing contracts, if he couldn’t make it the next two years in hockey, he was pretty much assured a job somewhere in the league.
And he was the nicest guy. But then, don’t they always say that about Canadians? “Is this going to be your year?”
“I hope so.” He scanned the room. “Damn, you’ve been busy.”
“No, the movers were busy. I just directed.” It was cool of our parents to pitch in for movers the way they had.
We’d kept all our shit in storage over the two months or so we’d all been home.
I tagged his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.
” I walked down the hallway with him following.
“Didn’t Mason win the master bedroom?” he asked, peeking into Jonah’s room. “Hey, man.”
“Hey, Myles. Good to see you,” Jonah set folded shirts into his dresser drawer.
I took a few steps, then stopped at Myles’ room. “Mason did win it this year, the bastard.”
“I heard that, Carlson!” Mason bound out of his room at the end of the hall. “I won it fair and square, so no bitching about it.” He pushed on my shoulder.
“Yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes. Every year, we let Jonah’s mom pick a name from a hat to see who would get the master bedroom. This year, she’d picked Mason. I’d gotten it in freshman year and had shared it with Jonah.
“He won it, fair and square,” Jonah called out from his room.
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved my hand into the doorway of Myles’ room, filled with white, IKEA furniture. “Here you go. It’s all yours.” I set his duffle onto the hard wood floor inside the room.
“Thanks.” He stepped by me.
“We’re having tuna casserole for dinner, by the way.” I watched him set his duffle next to a box on his mattress. Though he was from Vancouver, he had lived for a decent amount of time in Chicago, so he might know what we were talking about.
“Yeah? Sounds cool.” He opened his bag and pulled out some black athletic wear. “We all hitting the gym tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.” I did a double take of Mason, staring at me with a grimace on his face. “What?”
“Tuna? Casserole?” He fake gagged. “No fucking way am I eating that shit.”
“Fine, then you can order some pizza or something.” With a tut, I made to head into the main room and wait for Tyler.
Jonah stood in the middle of the hallway, one hand on the wall and the other on his hip, glaring down Mason. “It’s my mother’s recipe and it’s fucking awesome. You’ll eat it and shut up.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mason said, “You’ll have to shove it down my throat—”
“That can be arranged.” Huffing a laugh, Ace lumbered out of his room and grabbed Mason by the back of the neck. “In fact, I think there’s a can of tuna waiting for you in the kitchen right now.” He pushed Mason down the hallway by his neck.
“No fucking way! Get off me, you heathen.” Mason flailed his arms, stumbling along. “Help me, someone get this brute off me!”
“Don’t be such a baby.” Ace shoved him all the way into our older, 1980s style kitchen that still had the older element burners on the stovetop.
I followed along with Jonah, both of us snickering into the backs of our hands. The fun was only getting started. We loved picking on Mason. Not sure why. Maybe to break his cocky persona down a notch?
“Please don’t make me eat tuna out of a can. I hate that shit.” Mason hung his head, ambling along like he’d given up.
Ace stopped him in the middle of the kitchen, then focused on me and Jonah and snapped his brows up. “What do you think, boys?”
“Ah, leave him be. I don’t want to be cleaning up his puke later.” Chuckling through a huff, Jonah waved Ace off.
“You’re lucky.” Ace freed Mason and laughed sharply. “How did you get to be such a picky eater? Did your mommy cut the crust off your sandwiches, too?”
Mason straightened his shoulders. “Yes. So?”
With a hearty laugh, Ace said, “Fuck man, love you.” He wrapped him up in a bear hug and spun him around.
“Love you, too, Ace.” Mason hugged him back, then as Ace set him down, he planted his hands on Ace’s cheeks and gave him a sloppy kiss.
“Dude, not like that.” Ace wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
Mason cackled. “Gotcha.”
My gaze caught movement out the front window.
“Hey, Tyler’s here.” I hightailed it out the front door and to his truck, parked in the driveway.
Finally, everyone was home. My heart soared.
These were my best friends and we’d all made it to ASU after fighting, groveling, and pulling lots of strings to get here.
The squad, a whole line up of queer men who played hockey and didn’t put up with any bullshit.
Tyler, our first-string right D-man, opened the tailgate on his truck and slid a box to the end of it, his shoulder-length, dirty blond hair shining in the sunshine.
“Hey, man.” I grinned and planted my hand on his shoulder. “Nice to see you.” He was better than me by a mile and was weighing his options for the NHL, with a brother already playing for the Rangers and a dad who was a juniors coach.
“Hey, Archer.” With a dimpled grin, he threw his arms around me and hugged me into his chest. “Missed you and all the guys.” He freed me and his brown eyed gaze raked over me. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks. You got to hang out with Myles a little bit up in Chicago, right?” I stepped back and inspected him, the smattering of tattoos on his arms. Most of us had them, including me. I had my sleeve done a few years ago, after Mom’s accident.
“I did.” He lifted his chin and puffed out his chest. “Got to show off my hockey bod at the gay bar with him a few times.”
“Of course you did.” And with a body like his, I couldn’t blame him. “Let me help you with your boxes.” I hopped onto the tailgate and walked through the boxes, shoving them down to him while he stacked them on the driveway.
“I heard you’ve had multiple hookups with some hot as fuck musician?” He arched a brow at me.
Word had definitely spread about Milo. “Yeah, I think I’m going to see if he wants to start dating.” I jumped off the tailgate and picked up a box.
“Dating, huh?” Tyler hefted another box off the end of the truck, then strolled beside me toward the house. “You sure you’re going to have time for a relationship? You know how our schedules are once school starts.”
“Yeah, but he’s working as a graphic arts intern, going to school and he’s in a band.
So, I’m sure he wouldn’t be too demanding of my time.
” I stepped through the front door. Was starting something really a good idea right now?
Tyler had a point. But fuck it, I’d been so focused on hockey my whole life and with the way I was playing lately, my dreams of an NHL contract were fading pretty fast.
“Unlike that girl you dated last year.” He freed a short laugh. “Total puck bunny. All she wanted was to hang out in your bedroom twenty-four seven.” Following me down the hallway into the bedrooms, he shook his head. “It was fucking annoying.”
“Don’t worry. I highly doubt Milo would be like that.” I stepped into his bedroom, full of honey-colored wooden furniture, and set his box on his mattress. “Besides, we’ve been hooking up at his place when his roommates are out.”
“Oh?” With a lift of his brows, Tyler set his box on his desk. “What, the guy doesn’t want you meeting his friends?”
“Bandmates. He lives with the guys he’s in the band with.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, guess we’re not on that level yet.” My chest tightened. How did Milo feel about me? I’d assumed he liked me if he kept wanting to get together. “I’m sure I’ll meet them when the time is right.”
“Yeah, okay.” He planted his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get hurt, man.” He hugged me into his side and kissed my head. “And don’t let this shit interfere with your hockey.” He gave me a pointed look.
“Don’t worry about that.” I tapped his chest with my knuckles. “Some dude is not going to upset my focus.”
His brows dipped. “What about your dad? Is that situation any better?” He eyed me.
Hanging my head, I said, “Not really. But I have a plan to combat it this year.” Mom had been so supportive of my hockey career. She was the one who’d been to all my games and pushed me to dream big. Maybe it was the Olympic athlete in her. But Dad…he was never on board with it.
“Yeah? And what’s that? Never answer the phone?” Raising the edge of his lips, he cocked a brow.
With a smirk, I said, “Maybe. That’s a fantastic idea.
” I squeezed him to my side, then released him and combed my fingers through my bangs, perusing his room.
“Anyways, I’m not going to let him get to me.
” At this point, his phone calls after our games were infamous.
For someone who didn’t know much about hockey, he sure knew how to critique my game.
“Listen to Coach and let whatever fucked up shit your dad says roll off your back. When you play well, you’re unstoppable.” He squeezed my shoulder and gave me a warm smile.
That was a lot, coming from him. Warmth wound through my chest. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“Dudes, let’s get started on the tuna casserole.” Jonah popped his head through the doorway, a wide grin on his face.
“Sounds good.” With a glance at Tyler, I strode out of the room.