Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
He woke up in Dustin’s bed and knew exactly where he was and exactly what had happened and exactly how awful it had been.
Dustin wasn’t there. Bendito sea Dios. Elliot was still wearing the clothes he’d half put on last night.
He lay with his eyes shut while it all came flooding back, then audibly groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
The only thing gayer than getting your ass fucked was crying while getting your ass fucked.
By Dustin Bennet.
“Oh God,” he said, and covered his head with both arms under the covers.
He couldn’t totally explain what had happened.
Yes, it hurt, and that was a surprise. But it wasn’t really that.
It was more like Bennet’s dick had forced all kinds of crazy things up inside him.
Elliot imagined it like one of those snake tools unclogging a drainpipe.
All of a sudden, he was thinking about where he was and what he was doing, and how fucking crazy it was – and why was he even in Portland and not in Tampa?
Making food for Dustin when he should’ve been eating his mom’s food, and then he was thinking about making food for his mom while she was on the phone talking about Uncle Sal, and then he was thinking about Uncle Sal?
What if Uncle Sal saw him like that? What if Uncle Sal knew Elliot was on his hands and knees in some guy’s bed, getting his ass fucked like a little pussy? What if he was watching, up in heaven, and just…
Elliot moaned and rolled onto his other side. The only thing gayer than crying while getting your ass fucked was thinking about your uncle while it happened.
There was a knock across the room. He pulled the covers down just enough to look over his shoulder. Dustin stood in the doorway in sweatpants and nothing else. He lifted two mugs of coffee.
“I made breakfast.”
Elliot’s face went red hot. He pulled up the covers and turned his back to Dustin, and heard Dustin sigh and come into the room. The bed creaked and Elliot felt him sitting on the other side of it. He sat there for a long time, then said, “Do you wanna get donuts?”
A laugh punched out of Elliot’s chest. “No thanks.”
“Will you at least drink this coffee? I slaved over it all morning.”
Sighing, Elliot pulled down the covers. He lay on his side, staring out the window, then turned over and sat up. Dustin put his pillow up behind him and handed him a cup as he leaned on it, then sat against his own pillow. They both sipped quietly.
Elliot shuddered and looked down into the cup. “Oh God, this is awful.”
“Yeah.” Dustin nodded, sipping again. “I’ve been told I’m not good at it.”
Dustin didn’t try to ask him anything. He just sat beside him, which was nice, even as humiliated as Elliot felt.
When they’d finished the terrible coffee, he squeezed Elliot’s knee and took both the cups and went out.
Elliot sat in the bed, staring at the hills outside.
The sun glinted off windows and swimming pools.
His asshole felt weird. He wasn’t ever doing that again.
Eventually he got up and went out to the main room.
Dustin was sitting at the island with another cup of coffee, reading something on his phone. Elliot crept up and took the stool on his left, not looking at him. His own phone was still on the counter and he tapped it to check the time.
“You’re not at Force today?” said Dustin.
“I have on-ice stuff this afternoon. You?”
“Rest day.” Dustin sipped his coffee. Elliot sensed something bitter there, and looked sideways at him, but before he could say anything, Dustin said, “Look, I just wanna say I’m really sorry. It was my fault, we should’ve done it differently. Or not at all.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Elliot picked a dried spot of the sofrito he’d made last night off the countertop.
“Can we talk about it?”
Elliot continued to pick at the counter.
Dustin sighed. “Are you gonna go back to the hotel?”
Elliot looked up at the kitchen. It was a complete fucking mess – he hadn’t cleaned anything. “I guess I should. I don’t really want to.”
“Stay here until your thing this afternoon.” Dustin sipped his coffee. “And clean my kitchen.”
He was smirking with those little crinkles around his eyes. Elliot pitched the look back. “I said I’d cook. Cleaning was never part of the deal.”
“Mm.” Dustin turned back to his phone. “I guess that’s fair.”
Dustin cleaned the kitchen while Elliot drank another cup of coffee. It wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. They got dressed and went to the smoothie place, then down to the river to walk. The day was beautiful. It helped.
At the mile turnaround point they stopped to look at the river.
Elliot could feel Dustin wanting to ask what happened last night, and he just really, really didn’t want to tell him.
Explain that he got embarrassed because he thought his dead uncle was watching them through the ceiling? It was so stupid.
Dustin was bending and flexing his knee, and Elliot watched from the corner of his eye as he stood at the rail that looked over the water.
“How is that doing?” he said.
Dustin sighed and put his forearms on the rail beside him. “I don’t know. They did a shitload of tests and it all came back normal, which is worse than if it hadn’t because now we just have no fucking idea what’s going on. I shouldn’t’ve played basketball.”
“Trying to keep up with me.”
“Yeah, this is all your fault, you little shit.” He looked down into the water for a long time. “I don’t know why I can’t just accept that I have to slow down.”
Elliot nodded quietly. He didn’t know how you did that either.
“I just don’t know how to not go as hard as I can. Which is so stupid: I’m fucking up this recovery. Because I can’t stop.” He looked at Elliot. “What is that about?”
Elliot shrugged, shaking his head. He tried to imagine himself in ten years, dealing with the same thing, and couldn’t do it. It was impossible to see that far ahead: all he could see was next season.
Dustin straightened up from the rail. “Anyway. Not your problem. Just an old man who can’t deal with the fact that he’s old.”
“You’re not old,” said Elliot, falling in step beside him.
“Right. I guess that’s why you keep calling me ‘grandpa’.”
Elliot sighed, laughing. “That’s not really what that means.
Well, it is, but it can also be like…a sign of respect.
” Dustin looked sideways at him and Elliot blushed.
He’d never imagined he might be telling The Great Bendito that to his face.
He put his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath.
“Yeah, you’re like…you know. An inspiration.
Or whatever. I pretty much watched you all the time I was growing up.
I have” –ay, fuck, this was embarrassing, but he’d started now, and anyway, it wasn’t as embarrassing as crying in front of the guy while he had his dick in your ass– “I have a bunch of your clips that I used to watch all the time. And anytime I had to do something hard, I would think, ‘What would Dustin Bennet do?’ Because I figured if you did it, I could.”
He thought about how often he’d said that to himself last year when Sal died, and stuck his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes on the ground.
Dustin seemed to be absorbing this as they walked in silence for a few steps. Then he stopped and caught Elliot by the arm. Elliot halted and turned in surprise.
“Don’t do it like I did,” said Dustin. “You know what I mean? Don’t make it the only thing in your life. It feels like it has to be everything. But maybe it doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t it?” Elliot held his gaze. “How else do you do it if you want to be the best?”
Dustin studied his face unhappily. “Yeah. I don’t know.”
“I want to be the best.”
“I know you do.”
“You’re the best.”
“I…guess I was. But I don’t think you wanna be the next Dustin Bennet.”
Ay, bendito. Something about that was so sad. Elliot had never thought about what it was like to be Dustin Bennet off the ice. Maybe he really didn’t want that.
And actually, now that he thought about it, he didn’t want to be him on the ice, either. Like he told Drew.
He drew himself up a little. “You’re right,” he said, “I don’t wanna be the next Dustin Bennet. I wanna be the first Elliot Rodriguez.”
Bennet’s face cracked into a smile that was happy and sad and astonished, and he put his hand on the back of Elliot’s neck, and Elliot was suddenly terrified he was going to kiss him, right there in front of the joggers and unicyclists and dogs on paddle boards.
But he just squeezed and let go and smiled, and said, “Good kid.”
Elliot’s heart swelled. They walked on.