Chapter 17 Logan
LOGAN
Austin flops onto the ice the second Coach blows the final whistle, his arms splayed over his head.
Ryan skates by and flicks a spray of snow into his face. “Get up, you drama queen.”
Austin groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Just leave me to die.”
I let out a snort, feeling the same as I drag my glove down my face, sweat sticking to my skin from the seventy-five minutes of torture we just survived.
“Good practice today,” Coach says. “Bus leaves at eight sharp tomorrow. If you’re late, you’re walking to the game.”
Austin raises a limp hand without lifting his head. “What if traffic makes me late?”
Coach arches a brow. “Then run.”
A few tired laughs ripple through the guys as everyone starts making their way toward the locker room.
I glance to my side and see Nathan still down at the net, on his knees, collecting loose pucks and dropping them one by one into the bucket.
I huff out a laugh and skate his way. “You realize there are people who get paid to do that, right?”
“I like to leave it clean,” he says finally, lifting his gaze to mine for all of half a second.
Of course he does.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You gonna stay after and Windex the boards next?”
The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile as he pushes to his feet.
My eyes drop to his leg without thinking. He’s not limping, which is good. I guess it means his leg is doing better. Don’t know, though, because I haven’t asked. I can tell he’s still reeling from his late-night admission in the kitchen and the last thing I want to do is push him.
I glance away before he can catch me watching him, and skate toward the tunnel, raking a hand through my sweat-damp hair. I hear his blades behind me, scraping against the ice as he follows.
The locker room’s already blaring with Austin’s music by the time I push the door open. He’s perched on the bench in front of his stall with his shirt off and his chest heaving as he mouths along to a song he knows none of the words to.
The guys always give him shit for his playlists, but honestly, I kind of like it. It makes it feel more like we’re gearing up for a party instead of peeling off sweat-soaked gear and icing every muscle in our bodies.
I shove my helmet off and toss it into my cubby, then reach down to start unlacing my skates, still hyper-aware of the guy settling into the stall two down from mine, his back turned to me.
He tugs his jersey over his head, and my eyes track the movement, catching on the stretch of his back and muscles. Jesus.
Come the fuck on, Logan. I’ve seen every guy in this locker room shirtless and much more undressed than that. Hell, I’ve walked in on Austin doing naked squats with a dumbbell once. I’ve never had this problem before.
But this is Nathan.
And Nathan’s the one guy I can’t seem to look away from. Can’t stop thinking about. Can’t stop wanting.
And my dick hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re supposed to be playing it cool until he gives me the green light.
“Anyone coming to the bar after this?” Jackson asks, glancing around the room.
“Sorry, guys,” Austin says with a shake of his head. “I’m out. I’m taking my girl on a date.”
“C’mon,” the kid groans. “You’re always with your girl. It’s one night.”
“Yeah, well. She gives him perks you’re not willing to do,” I reply, wiggling my brows.
Jackson snorts, then looks back at me. “You coming?” he asks.
I should answer immediately, but my gaze drifts to the guy sitting on the bench across the room, pulling off one pad at a time, his eyes locked on mine.
I don’t have to ask for his permission. I’m a grown-ass man with a fully functional brain and a very functional dick. I can go have a drink without checking in like some loyal little lapdog.
But I do it anyway, because I respect him and for some weird fucking reason, I don’t want to let him down.
My eyes find his and I tilt my head slightly, lifting a brow in question.
He rolls his eyes, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips.
I chuckle and shrug, turning back to Jackson. “Sure. I’m down.”
Jackson grins and shifts his attention to Nathan. “What about you, Hayes?”
I glance down, focusing on unlacing my skates.
“Can’t.” Nathan pulls off his chest guard. “I’m grabbing coffee with this girl.”
I freeze and glance up, my fingers stilled on my laces. For a second, I’m sure I misheard him.
The room goes quiet for all of two seconds before Austin lets out a bark of laughter, swinging his arm around his shoulders. “No way. Hayes is going on a date?”
Ryan lifts his brows. “Finally. Took you long enough.”
“What?” Nathan’s brow furrows. “No. It’s not a date.”
“Sounds like one,” I say, pulling off my jersey, acting as if it doesn’t matter, like I’m not currently imagining what girl gets to sit across from him, gets to watch the way his mouth moves when he talks, gets to smile at him while he frowns into his coffee, that cute line forming between his brows.
“It’s not,” Nathan insists, his gaze flicking to me. “She just asked if I wanted to grab coffee. I said yes.”
“Which is literally the definition of a date,” Ryan says, tugging on his hoodie.
Nathan frowns, looking confused. “No, it’s not. We just talk in class sometimes. She’s cool.”
Cool.
Awesome.
I’m so thrilled he’s making cool new coffee friends while I’m over here hard as fuck, thinking about the curve of his back.
I reach for my joggers and yank them up over my compression shorts, feeling the heat of his gaze on me as I try desperately not to look at him.
Austin lets out a scoff. “You really don’t see how much girls throw themselves at you, do you?”
I glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, his jaw clenching slightly.
I don’t know what the hell’s in my expression, but it sure as shit isn’t subtle. Especially when I shove my helmet into my stall harder than I mean to. It’s loud enough that a few heads glance over when I yank my hoodie on and shove the rest of my gear back into my stall.
What the fuck are we even doing?
He pulled me away from a guy, told me he hated seeing his hands on me, said he wanted to fuck me, that he wanted no one but me. And now… now he’s grabbing coffee with some girl after class like it’s no big deal?
I told him I’d wait and I meant it. But I didn’t expect waiting to mean watching him pick someone else. I didn’t think patience would come with a front-row seat to him choosing a path that doesn’t involve me at all.
A tight laugh slips out before I can stop it.
My heart is hammering, and I’m trying to act like this doesn’t matter, like I’m not taking every single word and twisting it until it hurts. But the ache is already in my chest, sour and hot and growing with every second he keeps looking at me like he doesn’t get it.
“Congrats, Hayes,” I say, forcing a smirk. “Hope you get laid.”
His eyes snap to mine and narrow just a fraction. I look away and sling my bag over my shoulder. I’ll shower at home. I can’t stand here another second.
I don’t wait for a reply. Don’t want one. I’m already pushing through the locker room door and heading down the hall.
This is exactly why every queer guy I know told me to never, ever fuck around with a straight boy.
Because it always comes to this. Them dipping their toes in the water with you, touching you like you’re the first sip of something they didn’t know they wanted, then turning right around and choosing the safe, straight option that was waiting for them all along.
I’m almost at the exit when fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me.
I glance back and see Nathan standing there, his hockey pants still clinging to his legs and some sneakers he must’ve slipped on fast. His chest rises like he just ran out here and it makes me pause.
His lashes look darker when they’re wet, the pink flush high on his cheeks from practice. He looks good. Too good.
Fuck. Snap out of it.
“What do you want, Hayes?” I ask, tired as hell.
“It’s not a date,” he repeats, holding my eyes.
I swallow hard. I want to believe him. God, do I want to. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I say, shrugging. “If you like the girl—”
“I don’t,” he cuts me off. “Not like that. She’s nice, yeah, and we sit together in class, but I never… I never thought about her that way.” His throat moves as he swallows and he looks downright wrecked. “I was too busy trying not to lose my mind over the picture you sent me.”
A slow grin starts tugging at my mouth before I can stop it. “Is that right?”
He exhales through his nose. “I don’t want her.”
The words light up something in me. “Then don’t go.”
His eyes slip closed for a second and he shakes his head. “I can’t. I might not be into her, but she’s a really nice girl. I can’t stand her up if she thinks it’s a date. I’d feel like an ass.”
My God, he’s such a saint.
“So you’re still going?” I ask, and I hate how obvious the disappointment sounds.
He nods, guilt written all over him. “But I’ll tell her I just want to be friends.”
I hum, arching a brow. “And is that what we are?”
His brows pull together. “What?”
“Friends.” My head tilts, dragging my eyes over his face. “Is that what you’d call us?”
“What else would we be?” he says a little too fast.
I step closer. Close enough that our forearms almost brush. Close enough that I can feel his breath hit my skin.
“Friends don’t picture their friends naked, Hayes.”
His lips part. His pupils blow wide. His hand tightens where it’s still wrapped around my wrist, just enough to make my blood rush south.
I’m fully aware we’re standing in the hallway right outside Coach’s office. A place where literally anyone could walk in and see Nathan and me standing way too close, practically breathing each other’s air. But I don’t give a shit.
“They don’t get hard from a single picture,” I murmur, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
His lips are parted. Pink. A little bitten. So fucking pretty. I want so badly to kiss him, just to see if he tastes as wrecked as he looks.
“Logan…” he says, his head jerking slightly like he’s just remembered where we are. His gaze darts around at the office door, at the sound of laughter echoing faintly from the locker room.
I take a step back before I do something we’ll both regret. “Relax. My word still stands. I won’t touch you.” I cock my head. “Not until you ask me to.”
He doesn’t respond. Not out loud, anyway. But his chest rises and falls too fast, his fingers are still locked tight around my wrist and his eyes flick down to my mouth like he’s thinking about kissing me.
My gaze drops before I can stop it and grin when I see the hockey pants aren’t hiding a damn thing.
A slow smile creeps across my face and he glances down, noticing how hard he is.
His jaw flexes and he squeezes his eyes shut, muttering a low, “Fuck,” under his breath.
I shift my duffel on my shoulder, forcing myself to back off before I push him too far, too fast.
“Enjoy your little coffee,” I say casually, turning toward the exit like I’m not grinning ear to fucking ear.
Behind me, I hear him let out a shaky breath and chuckle slightly as I push open the door, the cold air hitting me square in the face, which I desperately need because my body is hot as fuck after that.
Nathan Hayes wants me.
He just has no idea what the hell to do about it.
And I can’t wait until he finally figures it out.