Chapter 5
Beau
Training camp has been absolutely brutal. Coach Waldor is heavily determined that the first line is able to read each other inside and out. I haven’t run this many passing drills since I was in high school.
I may be exhausted at the rink, but what’s been especially trying has been my home life.
My interest in Milo has grown more and more every day. And I’m not certain, but I think he feels the same way. I’ve caught him watching me, looking at me when he shouldn’t.
He watches me on the ice the most, but that’s more as if he’s trying to learn how to read me than trying to undress me with his mind. Even when his gaze is more appreciative than studied, I don’t ever feel objectified by him.
The only time I don’t like the way he looks at me is when I’m driving us to the rink.
He looks at me like we’re about to die.
I’m not that bad of a driver.
A point I’m trying to make as we head back to the parking garage where Darlene is waiting for us. Milo stops in front of her and makes a face, nodding at the several dents she’s sporting.
Yeah, maybe I had a rocky start when I first got her all those years ago. I wasn’t exactly the most skilled driver. What eighteen-year-old is?
“I’m not trying to say you’re the worst driver. I know plenty of people who are worse than you.” I wait for him to name someone, but he just tosses his bag in the bed and hops in the passenger side. I shake my head and follow suit, pulling myself into the driver’s side.
“You act like I’m going to drive us off the road, or something,” I grumble.
“I just don’t want to know what else ‘or something’ could be,” he says, sticking his tongue out at me.
I have the strongest urge to suck that tongue into my mouth, but I shake it off.
We’ve been living together for about two weeks now, and he hasn’t made a move on me yet. He probably isn’t interested. Maybe he’s just keeping me around to look at. Or maybe I misread his looking at me. Maybe he was just spacing out?
I start the drive home, pulling out of the parking spot and out of the garage. There’s a ton of construction on our route, caution cones everywhere, and Darlene is not happy about the wild, uneven road we’re driving on.
I’m swerving every which way to avoid the potholes and the bumps, but Milo gasps, drawing my attention to him. I glance over at him and miss the pothole at the last second, hitting it with a thunk and a pop.
Suddenly, she’s driving unevenly, wobbling and shaking.
“Fuck,” I groan. “We blew a tire.” I pull into a parking lot off to the side of the road. I look over at him and have to laugh. Milo’s eyes are wide, and he’s gripping the "oh shit" handle like he’s expecting to be yanked from his seat.
He scowls at me.
“Don’t laugh,” he says indignantly, releasing the death grip he has on the handle. “That scared me!” He huffs and pouts, sticking out his bottom lip.
I have the strongest urge to bite it, but I contain myself.
Hopping out of the cab, I go to inspect the damage.
It’s the front driver’s side tire that’s blown, and holy hell has it blown.
The rim is threadbare, no tire left to inspect.
I pull the kit out from beneath the seat and walk around to the back to lower the spare.
Milo has hopped out of the passenger side and is leaning on the bed, watching me.
This is honestly going to put such a damper on my week. It’s Friday. I should be planning a night out. I had been toying with the idea of asking Milo to check out one of the clubs in town with me this weekend. I feel like this is just a big sign that I shouldn’t.
I get to work jacking up the truck and taking off the frame of the old tire. The sun is high in the sky, and while it’s not hot, it’s definitely not cold yet. I am sweating up a storm.
I pull off the shirt I’m wearing, leaving only the undershirt on, and use the discarded shirt to mop up the sweat on my brow.
As I pull the shirt away, I notice him watching me. Milo is standing at the end of the bed, leaning against Darlene, and he’s watching me intently. His eyes are full of hunger.
I feel a drop of sweat roll down my temple and see his eyes track the movement. I try to keep my reaction in check, but a victorious, giddy thrill shoots through me.
He is checking me out. He is looking at me with interest. Maybe I should test the waters some. Maybe I dip my toe in before I take a dive.
I run my fingers through my curls and catch his eye. I nod at his crotch, where he’s now sporting a very obvious chub. He instantly flushes and walks behind the truck, hiding from me.
Fuck, maybe I went too strong. I need to ease him into it. Ease him into being comfortable sporting a hard-on in my presence. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it.
I make quick work of the spare tire, cranking the last of the bolts back into place and chucking the bits of the old tire into the bed.
I climb back into the truck, where Milo is waiting for me with his bright red cheeks. He is staring directly into his lap and is adamantly not speaking, so I follow his lead.
The rest of the drive home is quiet, tense.
I can tell that Milo isn’t really interested in talking, probably embarrassed that I caught his arousal. Who wants to be caught with a crush, especially when neither of us has even come out to each other?
Should I tell him I’m bi, just to make him feel better?
I should tell someone, right?
I want to. I want to tell anyone so desperately. But the last call I had with Grady, he said no. But he can’t stop me from coming out to my teammate.
A sudden thought occurs to me: what if Milo thinks I’m coming on to him by telling him?
I still have my rule for a reason. Regardless of how attractive I find him, I’m not going to sleep with him.
And if he has a crush, dangling hope in front of his face and tearing it away …
That would hurt him. It’s what happened before, even if I didn’t mean for it to. I won’t make that mistake again.
What sucks about that is that, deep down, I really am interested. If we weren’t teammates, I would have come out to him right away. I would have told him about my own crush and acted on it.
Assuming he was also interested.
All of this tension between us is exhausting. I want desperately to just let loose.
We get home, and I immediately beeline for the bathroom. The silence in the house feels heavy. I’m dirty and grimy and want nothing more than to stand under the warm spray and get lost in thought. A shower first, and then I’ll come up with something.
The shower helps me clear my mind. I feel incredible surrounded by the heat, surrounded by the wet warmth. I know what I need tonight. I just hope he’s on board with it.
“We should go out tonight.”
I call this out to him as I walk from the bedroom to the living room. He looks up from where he’s sitting and reading. He’s squinting down at the novel in his hands as if he should be wearing glasses.
“Go out?” He cocks that brow. I want to lick it.
“You know, go out? Like, we can go to that club downtown.” I want to dance.
More specifically, I want to dance with this man’s hot hockey butt rubbing against my crotch.
“We’re not going to have time in a few weeks to do much of anything beyond eating, sleeping, and hockey, so we might as well have some fun while we can.
” I wink at him mischievously, a sly smile curling my lips.
“Please. We’ve stayed in the past two weeks.
We’ve been good. We can afford to be a little bad. ”
He smiles, kind of shyly, and god, it’s adorable.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, giving a little shrug, trying to be casual.
“Why not? Let’s go.” His hands run down the front of his shirt, kind of smoothing it out.
As if maybe he’s a little nervous about what a night out could entail. And maybe I’m a little nervous too.
I don’t sleep with teammates. I don’t sleep with teammates. I don’t sleep with teammates.
I keep repeating it to myself as I get dressed in the room. Maybe if I repeat it enough, it’ll actually stick.
Bianca always hated going clubbing with me.
She said the way I dressed was embarrassing.
I used to go to raves when I was younger, and I like dressing…
a certain way when I go dancing. But Bianca isn’t here to tell me what to do anymore.
She isn’t here to complain about what I wear.
She isn’t here to put me down for being a bit more out there.
So I pull out the mesh crop top and slide it over my head. My black jean shorts hang loosely around my hips. I turn and admire myself in the mirror. It’s giving very elder emo.
I sit on the edge of my very comfy bed and slide on a pair of high-tops.
I walk out to the living room to see Milo all dressed up.
And god, does he look great.
His ass is being hugged in all the best ways by his jeans slung low on his hips. The crisp black button-down is stretched across delicious muscles. Fuck, he’s stunning. I’m overwhelmed with the desire to lick him.
No, bad Beau.
He turns around while fixing his sleeve and pauses. His jaw tenses, and his hands fall to his sides, fists clenching and unclenching.
Shit, does he hate this? Am I going to embarrass him too? All the eye rolls from Bianca and being told constantly that I’m too much by my mom come flooding back.
“I can…” I’m about to offer to go change when he interrupts me.
“You look great,” he says on an exhale, and I pause, looking down at what I’m wearing.
I feel great.
I give him my most sincere smile, batting my lashes a little for dramatics. He laughs, and the sound shoots straight to my cock.
“Thanks, man.” I give him a once-over again, just admiring the fit of his clothes. “You do too.”
He blushes so damn hard, the flush rushing up his neck and blooming across his nose. It makes me notice a light smattering of freckles on his face. How beautiful to have been kissed so fervently by the sun.
I smile at him.
“Let’s go.”