Chapter 5
H e blinked at Levy where he was hovering by his bedroom doorway at the Johnson’s. Someone must have let him in while Kallen was in the loo.
“I can go,” his friend said. “I just... Couldn’t catch you at the stadium.”
It was hardly an accident, Kallen had sped out of there after his confrontation with Vandy three days earlier and he’d done it again today after the game. Levy had scored so the press had wanted him. It’d been easy, and no one else had tried. He’d texted Johnson to let him know he didn’t need a ride back and left it at that.
When Kallen had got back after eating a leisurely meal he’d hardly tasted at a restaurant in the city centre, he’d found Darryn with Merle on the sofa. She’d paused the film and asked him how he was. He’d told her he was fine, but she’d hummed sympathetically in that way of hers and offered him some of her latest cupcakes. He’d taken one to his room, where it still sat on top of his desk, because it was easier than reminding her of his strict diet.
He walked into his room, pointing with his chin at the desk chair as he let himself fall back on his mussed bedspread.
“You did good,” Levy said, low and earnest, and Kallen looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you did, and—” He cut himself off, watching Kallen closely. He seemed to find some sort of answer there. “You did good, Guin, kept the team together, and you made it clear it wasn’t okay to hurt you. Vandy’s been in a funk, but McKinley took him out for lunch today after the game. He’ll be fine.”
Kallen gave a slow nod. That was good, he supposed. And it felt good to hear he’d done well, even if he couldn’t completely believe it. He thought Levy believed it. And that mattered. “You are not... You didn’t want me to do it.”
“No, but... But that was just, I dunno, it’s easy to look at your life and tell you what you should do when I’m outside it. Like, what the fuck do I know about what you gotta deal with? You are doing the best you can in your circumstances. I just— Well, you are my friend, and I got angry. Too angry, probably. Again,” he added with a sigh. “Sorry about that.”
No, you didn’t , Kallen thought, but it was an insane thing to say. If he couldn’t afford to get angry, he certainly couldn’t afford for Levy to do it for him. Levy, who was an alpha and was actually allowed to do something with his anger besides swallow it and transform it into puppies and rainbows and forgiveness and compassion.
“You can let me win to make up for it,” he said and for a moment he was worried Levy wouldn’t let it go, his brow furrowing and his lips parting.
Please, Kallen thought, just let it go.
But his friend huffed and offered him a smile, forced but there. “Tell you what, come up and I’ll make you the artichoke dip,” he allowed. “But you gotta earn your wins with honour, mate.”
THEY HAD A brUTAL GAME against the Coyotes where they put him out twice to make up for two of their injured veterans—nothing serious but requiring rest—and afterwards, shaking with adrenaline, he sat down with the reporters for the same boring questions and some rather nice compliments about his play. He deflected them onto the team, which was not completely untrue or anything. For one thing, he’d scored twice on Levy’s assists.
He wasn’t that surprised to find Levy waiting for him afterwards to go catch a bite—apparently, they’d worked hard enough to earn some chips, which were very much outside their approved meal plan.
Kallen had never had a real problem sticking to his diet, of all the sacrifices he made for hockey, deep fried potatoes weren’t even close to the top. But he was having fun stealing some off his friend’s plate, always without getting slapped for it. A fun game of keep away to make lunch a little more dynamic.
After a few minutes, Levy raised both hands. “Whatever, clot your arteries. My arms are killing me, I don’t know where you are getting the energy.”
That gave him pause, he could forget to check how he was actually feeling when he was really pumped—it was both the reward of a great game and the risk. “Guess I’m happy we won.”
Levy’s smile emerged like the sun from behind a cloud, all but blinding. Except Kallen couldn’t seem to look away.
The waiter interrupted them to ask if they needed anything else and Kallen swallowed and went back to his food.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to come here on their own. It was just easy to be around Levy, easy and light, and he missed that. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed it until somehow he’d got it back.
Back with his school team, he’d had fun. Even when he’d had his arrangement with Robert, it hadn’t really changed things with the rest of the team. Somehow, he’d convinced himself it wouldn’t with the White Cats either, but...
He startled as something hit him on the face and he looked down to find a lone fry in his salad and steak. “What?” he demanded.
Levy raised his eyebrows. “You went away somewhere. Wanna watch a film?”
“A film?” Kallen repeated, dubious.
“I’m tired, but I’m bored,” Levy said, looking at him with his big hazel eyes and shrugging his massive shoulders. He wasn’t fully grown yet, his limbs a little too long still, but everything he was could have come from an anatomy manual. Not that Kallen was looking, but they got changed near each other sometimes, because Levy liked to talk about the game and Kallen was happy to listen, unlike the older guys in the team.
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed, without quite thinking it through. It was becoming a habit he didn’t quite want to break; just doing what he wanted without analysing what it would cost him.
BUT THE BILL ALWAYS came due.
It wasn’t like Kallen hadn’t known he was getting too close, he wasn’t that na?ve. But surely it was okay to be friendly with one of his teammates? It wasn’t like he was taking away from anyone else when he sat with Levy at dinner or stayed by his side in the bars when the team went out. By enjoying the way Levy lit up when he showed up, like Kallen’s presence made him happy.
And then his next heat rota came around and he saw his friend’s name on it and his stomach fell. Because he had let himself believe... That they were friends, or that they could be. And now he had a message on his phone saying he had to let Levy fuck him to solidify the team’s connection. It was making him feel a little sick, even though he’d mostly got used to taking three alphas every month with his heat.
The last couple of heats had been rough, but like any streak, it could be broken.
For a moment, he wondered if he could argue with the coaches, who were the ones who suggested the rota to Management based on performance. But of course Levy was a bona fide hockey superstar, and he’d probably earned the right to have Kallen three times over. If he’d been a bit older, they probably would have given him a turn every other month, just like McKinley got by virtue of his role as captain.
The worst part was that when he closed his eyes and let himself really think about it, Kallen felt himself start to chub up. Because it would be good, he just knew it. Not even because he remembered the first time Levy had fucked him on his second month with the Cats. That early on he’d been scared enough of not being able to take three alphas that he’d started drinking as soon as he’d felt heat rising.
So he had no evidence, just a feeling that it would be the same as it was on the ice, where Levy seemed to read his mind half the time and come up with awesome ideas to throw at Kallen at breakneck speed the other half.
He was so nervous about it that he thought about drinking, but after he’d done it that second time, he’d got a reprimand from Doctor Maslow for abusing substances and a lecture about how it could affect his performance. So, he was stuck doing this sober, or as sober as heat allowed. Legally, omegas weren’t considered compos mentis while in heat, which was also why contracts were necessary for an alpha to legally bond or breed you—both requiring heat hormones.
IT WAS PROBABLY IMPOSSIBLE , but Kallen was sure he remembered the first time he’d skated. His dad had been a pro player in the minor leagues before he’d got injured and had to give it up, and his two older brothers had been hockey-crazy already by the time Kallen had been born.
The story went that he’d been all of two years old, just able to walk on solid ground, when his dad had put several pairs of socks on his tiny feet so he could don the skates Mikey had just outgrown. They were the smallest size made and obviously immense on his feet and yet, his dad had begged his mum to allow it.
She was normally quite protective, but maybe fate had intervened because that time she’d gone for it. He remembered the excitement around him, the kids screaming in the pond and how shiny the ice had looked, and then... Then his feet had been upon it. Paul holding one of his hands, his dad the other, and it’d just happened. They’d dragged him forward and he’d gone, laughing in delight as they sped up. It couldn’t have been that fast, really. For one thing, his dad was way too tall to gain any sort of speed while hunched over to keep holding Kallen’s hand, but with the icy air in his lungs and clutching madly at them, he’d discovered what flying felt like.
Maybe the memory was just something he’d made up out of the story he’d been told, but what did it matter? He felt exactly the same every time he entered a rink; absolutely and madly in love.