Twenty-Three
Blaine
We’re on fucking fire tonight.
Montreal doesn’t know what hit them. Their goalie must have holes in his pads because his five hole is wider than the Grand Canyon.
Leaning in for the face-off, I rest my stick against my thighs as I wait for the Montreal center to take his position. He’s been smacking his gums at me since the first period, probably thinking it’s going to put me off, but he has it all wrong.
It’s only spurring me on.
I give him my widest grin.
“You getting a little tired there, bud? Looking a lil’ slow.”
“Fuck you, Olsen,” he snaps.
“Aw!” I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that, but I’m flattered, thanks.”
He grunts some derogatory slurs, but while he’s sprouting off, he misses the official dropping the puck.
Chuckling under my breath, I win the face off. Zach gets the puck and passes it to Ethan. He’s already past the blue line, and I follow him into the offensive zone. Montreal is as slow as molasses as they play catch-up.
A quick flick of his wrist, the puck hits my blade, and I wind it back.
Whoosh .
Back of the net, baby.
BUHHHHHH , sounds the horn. Our standard goal song, Nirvana’s Lithium, blasts through the arena, and fans are up on their feet going wild.
I fucking love how enthusiastic our fans are.
Raising my hand in celebration, I exchange a high-five with Ethan, then Peyton, Kendrick, and Zach skate over for a group hug before we skate past the bench, trading glove fist bumps.
“Nice! Good job, boys. Keep it up.” Coach says when we sit back on the bench.
I squirt some water in my mouth, then wipe the sweat from my visor with a towel.
My focus is primarily on the game, but every now and again, my mind will drift off to the man who is sitting two rows behind me, watching my game with my parents.
Maybe it’s that thought that keeps me so fired up.
I’ve been on top of my game recently, playing some of the best hockey of my life, and maybe it’s the standard hockey player superstition, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of Alex.
He’s like my lucky charm.
“Atta boy, Mitchy!” Ethan shouts as Mitch dekes a Montreal d-man whose face is getting redder with every passing second. He passes the puck to Tait, and it’s like watching magic happen. Tait passes it back to Mitch, who one-timers the puck right into the back of the net.
“Fuck yeah!” I holler, banging my stick against the boards.
The rookie’s wearing a shit-eating grin when he skates back to the bench.
I give him a noogie with my glove. “What a shot, bud! That was beautiful.”
He dips his chin in embarrassment, trying to hide his bright pink cheeks, squirts some water in his mouth, and then shoos me away. “Your turn now!”
I hop over the boards for my next shift and line up for face-off, biting my lip to suppress my laughter when Middleton’s sour face appears.
“You know, maybe it’s that lip lettuce you’ve got going on. It’s hindering your game, bud.” I wave my gloved hand in front of my mouth, referring to the handlebar mustache he’s rocking.
He glowers at me, his nostrils flaring like a crazed bull.
I snicker, focusing on the puck. I win again and pass it back to the boys.
This time Montreal is a little more awake; they’ve clearly faced a grilling from their coach, but it’s not enough.
Even with bodies in front of the net, Zach sinks one between the tendy’s legs, and the thousands of excited fans roar.
By the time we’re back out for third, we’re up six to one. The one goal that slipped past Elliot’s defense was unlucky as it bounced off of his pad.
It’s like Montreal have given up; we sink two more into the net—one being a power play goal after one of their defensemen cross-checked Zach, and another was an empty net goal scored by …
Elliot!
The horn sounds, and we’ve won eight to one. I skate up to Elliot, dropping everything on the ice, and he’s jumping into my arms, trying to wrap his padded legs around my waist.
“I fucking scored a goal!” He screams, and when I catch a look at his face through his cage, his eyes are filled with tears.
“It was fucking amazing!” My voice croaks with emotion.
The rest of the team joins us, congratulating Elliot with helmet taps, and when I skate over to Middleton, I roll my lips.
“Good game, but seriously, dude. I think that lip foliage is slowing you down.” I grin.
He rolls his eyes, but I can see the corners of his lips twitching. “Thanks for the advice, Olsen; I’ll take it into consideration.”
I place my hand over my heart, “I’m so happy to have such a positive impact.”
He scoffs as we shake hands.
Before I step off of the ice, I glance up to my seats. Alex’s smile is wide and proud, and when our eyes lock, I blow him a kiss. He catches it and holds it over his heart.
Back in the locker room, Elliot is swinging his jersey around his head like a lasso while he tries to ride one of his leg pads like a horse.
“Watch out, broski, I’m gonna be in contention for the Maurice Richard Trophy soon. Better watch ya back!” He suddenly stops, and his face drops. “I don’t have a goal song… I’m gonna need a goal song. Reid, find me a goal song! It’s gotta be iconic! Think like ABBA or Taylor Swift…”
I laugh as he rambles on to a terrified-looking Zach.
Who knew one goal would make him this cocky?
Placing both hands on my hips, I watch my twin bundle his jersey up into a ball and shoot it into the laundry hamper. “If you beat me, El, I’ll be more ecstatic than if I win it myself.”
And I mean it.
Just playing my favorite sport with my brother is the biggest award for me; everything else is a bonus.
And playing my favorite sport with my favorite guy watching me in the crowd makes me feel like the king of the fucking universe.
* * *
“Are you sure they won’t mind me coming?” Alex twists his hands in his lap, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Of course not.” I shake my head.
We’re on our way to Gino’s to meet up with a few of the guys to play pool and enjoy some wings, and because Alex finished work earlier than expected, I asked him to tag along. It’ll be the first time they’ll meet him outside of the arena.
“If anything, they’ll probably give me shit to try to embarrass me in front of you.”
He grins. “Now that I’d like to see. I can’t imagine you get embarrassed easily.”
“When your ass has been plastered online, it’s hard to be embarrassed about anything. I own everything I do, but maybe I’ll remind my mom that baby photos are strictly forbidden.”
“What?!” He playfully slaps my bicep with the back of his hand. “You can’t take away baby photos from me, it’s like… mandatory at Christmas!”
I shake my head, laughing under my breath, but honestly…
I’d do anything for Alex.
He wants to see my embarrassing baby photos? He can see every single one if he wants.
I park my Range Rover in the lot behind Gino’s and we head inside, weaving through the crowd, to find the boys at the back by a pool table.
“Here he is, mister lover boy!” Elliot wolf whistles, then picks Alex up, swinging him around in a circle. “Welcome to the best boys’ club ever. We eat wings and drink beer and play pool and it’s great fun.”
Once he’s back on his feet, Alex looks over at me, the apples of his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.
“Twinny, go get the drinks in; Alex is going to be on my team.” Elliot wraps his arm around Alex’s shoulders and guides him over to the high table where Zach and Ethan are sitting, sipping on a beer.
I do as instructed, placing our food order and return with beers, handing one to Alex, who’s looking at Ethan with a somewhat stunned expression.
“Why are you looking at Ethan like that?” I say teasingly in his ear.
His head swings to face me. “I… uh... I…” he sighs, letting out a small, deprecating laugh. “It’s just a little surreal for me. I’m sitting in a bar next to a guy I’ve watched play hockey since I was in high school. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird.”
I shake my head. “It’s not weird. I was the same when I first came to Chicago. I had no idea Ethan was picking me up from the airport, and you wanna know the first thing I said to him?”
Alex nods, his eyes sparkling with glee.
“I said, ‘Holy shit, you’re Ethan Parkes; I’ve jerked off to your Sports Illustrated cover’…”
His body shakes with laughter. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope, totally serious. That’s probably the only time I’ve been embarrassed. Twenty-one-year-old me, wet behind the ears, came face to face with my idol, and that was the first thing I said.”
“What did he say?”
“He just blinked at me, then scowled and told me to put on my big boy pants because I wasn’t in college anymore.”
Alex glances back over to Ethan, chuckling quietly to himself, before Elliot comes over, armed with a cue.
“Ready to help me kick Zach and Ethan’s butt?” Elliot hands over the cue to Alex with a grin, then turns to me. “Broski, have you ordered food? Because I’m famished.”
“Famished? You ate like an hour ago.”
He pats his stomach. “I’m a growing boy, and I’m gonna be burning a lot of cals kicking some grumpy ass.” He points to Ethan, who is, of course, scowling.
“Are we getting this game started or what, Olsen?”
“Ooohh,” Elliot chuckles, “don’t get ya panties in a twist, Cappy; I’ll even let you break.”
Ethan rolls his eyes and breaks.
I lean back in my seat, watching in contentment.
Alex fits in so seamlessly, like he’s been around them for years, when really, we only met three weeks ago.
The initial nerves disappear, and soon he’s teasing Elliot and joining in ribbing Ethan.
All while I notice Zach frowning at his phone between turns, his shoulders hunching up to his ears.
When he glances up from his screen, I give him an upnod, asking if he’s good. He nods back jerkily, then steps up to the table to take his turn.
Hmm, odd.
“You trying to wipe us out of wings, Blaine?”
I turn to see Dylan transferring the order of wings and loaded fries from his tray onto the table.
“Yeah, we’ll still be hungry after this, I’m sure.” I laugh.
Dylan shakes his head, putting the final dish on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He gives my forearm a gentle squeeze before disappearing into the back.
“Grub’s up,” I say, and my mouth goes dry when I see Alex’s face. His eyes are locked on my arm where Dylan touched me, a slight confusion marring his brow.
Elliot deems the game paused while we eat, and I make space for Alex to sit next to me. He thanks me when I hand him a plate, but the silence is killing me.
My mind races back to when I was with Kelly, to the times I was accused of cheating and flirting, and I really hope that’s not what Alex is thinking.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I say quietly, so only he can hear.
“What?”
“Dylan… We hooked up a long time ago, but nothing has happened since.”
His brows furrow. “Do you think I’m mad because he touched your arm?”
I nod. “Yeah?”
“I’m not mad at you, Blaine. I’m not going to doubt you unless you give me a reason. I know you’ve been with a lot of people, but I’m not going to hold your past against you…” He sighs, then gives a small smile. “I was just taken aback by how jealous I felt about him touching you, that’s all.”
My heart leaps in my chest, and my words come out more gleefully than I expected. “You’re jealous?”
“Yeah,” he laughs, “I was tempted to come over and stake my claim on you, but then I realized I don’t need to do that.”
“Why not?”
Alex leans over, pressing his lips to mine, and ignores the heckles from my brother. “Because you staked your claim on me the other night in front of an arena full of people.”