5. Jake #2
And he knew it didn’t make sense to most people that he could handle hockey, but that was different.
Out on the ice, the noise had order. The scrape of blades, the thud of bodies against the boards, and the rhythm of his breath all fit.
The chaos became a pattern, the pressure lifted, and for a little while, he could think.
Jake wanted things to work with Allen, which meant he had to be upfront with him. He didn’t want to hide a part of himself from his future partner, and he wanted Allen to have the choice to back out if dealing with his…issues wasn’t something he was willing to do.
“I’m autistic,” said Jake, keeping his gaze locked onto Allen’s face so he could watch his expression. “I don’t stray from places that make me feel safe.”
When there was no shift in Allen’s playful smile, Jake figured he wasn’t put off by the revelation.
“Oh shit, really?” Allen looked around the room and then at the menu. “Okay, that makes sense. You have a routine, and you like the quiet room. Sorry, I wouldn’t have teased you if I knew your reasoning behind coming here.”
The tightness that had been squeezing Jake’s heart loosened just a little. “It doesn’t bother you?”
Allen’s head snapped up, his eyes going wide as saucers.
“Oh my god, no. I figured you were either shy or maybe on the spectrum when I had to fight to get a sentence from you, but we’re doing fine, aren’t we?
If you were a fucking mob boss, that would be different.
Hot, but not acceptable. Autism is like, not even close to a problem. ”
Jake was…going to marry this man.
“I have ADHD too,” said Jake, just to make sure.
Allen turned his attention back to his menu and shrugged. “Did you attend a buy-one, get-one event when you were younger? Tell me what I should order; half of these options are in French.”
Jake had never felt so accepted—and so confused—in his life. The way Allen brushed off his worries and treated him like he was just as normal as everyone else was almost an art form.
“I am surprised you like hockey,” said Allen. “But I bet there’s so much focus on the puck that you don’t really hear the rest of it. I could see how that would work for someone with sensory issues.”
Allen’s eyes flicked up and met Jake’s. “Tell me if I’m wrong, because I have no experience with autism or ADHD. But if it was anxiety we were talking about, I think I would have you beat.”
The corner of Jake’s mouth twitched. “You’re right. Hockey makes my head quiet, but I recently found something else that works the same way.”
And Allen knew it too, if his blush was anything to go by. Jake sometimes had similar results when he was with Riley, but only when his friend was talking his ear off to the point where he couldn’t focus and went numb.
It was different with Allen. He didn’t have to talk to give Jake that same sense of calm; he just had to be nearby.
“Can you tell me why you don’t play hockey anymore?” Jake asked.
“Only if you tell me why you don’t play professionally,” Allen countered.
Touche.
“Accidentally got knocked in the head by a teammate’s knee and ended up with a concussion,” said Jake, shoving down the fear that rose inside every time he thought about that night.
“I’m my father’s only child, so I’m expected to take over his business someday.
He made me leave the CHL, and I had to fight to get him to agree to let me play with my current team. ”
Allen didn’t give him a pitying look, but he could tell he was upset for him. “But you could have done it? Made it to the NHL?”
Yeah, it was weird to think he could be playing alongside famous names like Jett Fraser and Hartley Meadows, but Jake didn’t let it bother him.
“I could have,” said Jake. “I don’t mind playing for the beer league. There’s less travel. More time at home. And Riley plays with me.”
Allen gave him a slow, understanding nod. “As long as you’re happy, then I won’t judge your father, but damn. It’s been a while since I watched hockey, but I can tell you’re good.”
The praise…did something. Jake felt like the warmest and softest blanket had just been wrapped around him, making his skin tingle.
“I only played because my parents forced me to,” said Allen, returning his attention to his menu in a move Jake assumed was to avoid eye contact.
“My sister is a huge name in the PWHL. She had always been talented as a kid, and my parents wanted us both to play sports, so they made me join with her to save travel expenses.”
Allen had a sister in the Professional Women’s Hockey League. He wished he had asked for his last name so he could figure out who she was.
“They had good intentions at first, but it quickly became less about me being a good big brother and turned into me being ungrateful when they spent too much money on my equipment every year.” Allen’s smile vanished, and Jake could tell this was a painful memory for him.
“I just wanted to be a nerd and play video games and read books. That’s arguably less expensive than sticks and skates. ”
Infinitely less expensive.
“Were you any good?” Jake asked, unable to help himself. He knew Allen was uncomfortable, but his mouth sometimes said things without him meaning to.
“I was okay,” said Allen. “I didn’t like getting crushed against the boards, so I made sure I was fast so I could dodge hits. It wasn’t the game that was awful, it was more…the locker room.”
The locker room? Jake couldn’t wrap his mind around that. To him, the locker room banter was easily one of the best parts about playing hockey.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Allen. “But I’m older than you by a significant amount, and when I was playing hockey, being gay in a room full of naked straight guys wasn’t as accepted as it is today.”
Right. Allen said he was older, so that would make sense if he played hockey before the discrimination rules were put into place.
“How old are you?” Jake asked.
Fuck, why was he so stupid?
Their waiter appeared, interrupting his awkward fucking moment. Jake quickly ordered his usual, and then, because he was being extra stupid tonight, he ordered for Allen without asking.
When the waiter left with the menus, Jake groaned and tucked himself into a ball, smacking his head against the table. His ears were starting to buzz, and that was never a good sign.
He knew Allen said he was okay with the autism, but would that last if Jake went into full overstimulation mode?
“You okay?”
Hands lay over top of Jake’s, which had ended up covering his ears at some point.
“Do you need pressure, or the opposite?”
Jake wanted to speak, but his diaphragm was spasming, keeping him from drawing in oxygen.
“It’s alright.”
Allen’s hands pushed down, turning the sound of his voice into muffled vibrations.
“I’m thirty—my birthday was on December first, so I’ve been bitter about it, but I don’t care that you asked me. You don’t have to be embarrassed, Jake. I think I’m way more awkward than you, but it might be hard to tell since I’m good at hiding it when I want.”
The spasming shuddered to a stop, and Jake took in a deep breath of beautiful air.
“Oh, the talking is helping. Well, my sister, I know you wanted to ask for her name, and I’m just realizing that I never told you mine. My last name is Monroe, so if you know the PWHL world, you know my sister is April Monroe. Jeez, I don’t think I know your last name either.”
Jake wanted to point out that they hadn’t made it to that point because Allen was determined to keep him firmly in the friend with benefits category, and he couldn’t stand for that.
“It’s Valero,” said Jake.
There was a long pause, and then Allen asked, “That’s not Italian, is it? About the mob boss joke—”
Jake laughed and shook his head, making Allen release his hold on him. With his hands already feeling colder, Jake pouted and straightened, looking up at Allen, who was standing beside him.
“Spanish,” said Jake. “It’s my mom’s name. She refused to give me my father’s last name because she claimed hers had more historical importance, and my father gave in and changed his name the day I was born.”
It was all useless information for Allen to know, but talking helped shake off leftover tightness in his chest. Jake didn’t get overstimulated often, but he had never self-regulated so fast before.
Allen didn’t speak until he was sitting down across from him again. “I just wanted to clarify that we’re going back to my place tonight, because even though I trust you’re not the main love interest of a dark romance novel, the chance of you having a jail cell at your place is never zero.”
That was a tempting idea.
“Don’t even think about it,” Allen grumbled. “I see the evil thoughts glimmering in those dark eyes of yours.”
Caught red-handed, Jake smiled.
Allen's face went scarily expressionless, but then he shook his head and sighed. “Are you good? I know it might be weird to ask, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to fight your way through a conversation if you’re tired.”
Jake held his hands up, like he could physically push the question away. “I’m fine, thanks to you.”
As expected, Allen’s blush returned with a vengeance. They took a quiet moment to study each other; Allen looking adorably grumpy, and Jake feeling like he was on top of the goddamn world.
The restaurant had fast service, so the food arrived before Jake had a chance to restart the conversation. He was content with that, though, because it meant he got to watch Allen’s expressions while he ate the best steak in the city.
In Jake’s opinion, anyway.
Jake cut into his own steak, but most of his attention stayed across the table. Allen wasn’t doing anything special, just eating silently, but something about it pinned him in place.
The low restaurant lighting caught Allen’s hair, turning the brown into warm, coppered strands every time he moved. His eyes were the same deep brown as his hair, soft when he was unguarded, but piercing when he was focused on something.