6. Kellerman
Freshman Year of College
The first practice was torture.
I loved every second of it. Hockey is a grueling sport, and I thrive on the feeling of pushing my body to its limits.
Heading back to the dorm for a much-needed shower and nap, I make my way through the exit.
“Kellerman.” Stephen jogs after me. “Hey, Kellerman. I know you hear me.”
I glance over my shoulder, not slowing my stride. “Yeah, everyone in a ten-mile radius can hear you.”
He yanks my elbow when he reaches me, forcing me to spin around and face him. “What the fuck is your problem?”
I shake him off me. “I don’t have a problem.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a winger too? I told you I played hockey the other day, and you said nothing about being on the team.”
I hike a shoulder and continue walking. “Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” he says, keeping up with my fast pace. “We’re roommates and teammates. We’re practically brothers now.”
I cough out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You know, you’re kind of a dick.”
I roll my eyes. “And you’re kind of annoying.”
Stephen laughs like I complimented him. “I’m gonna make you love me, Kellerman. You watch. We’re going to be the best of friends before you know it.”
I give him a side-long glare. “You’re my competition, not my friend.”
Everyone on this team will be vying for a spot in the NHL when the scouts come around, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone get in my way.
His head jerks back. “No, we need to have each other’s backs. That’s how a team works.”
I shake my head, and hold myself back from popping his positive little bubble. It’s obvious he lives in a world filled with rainbows and sunshine. He doesn’t know how ugly people can truly be.
And there’s a small part of me that’s happy about it, knowing he hasn’t been tainted by the cruelty of the world. I hope he stays like that forever.
Stephen lowers his voice. “Hey, man. You shouldn’t run out of the locker room as soon as practice is over, by the way. That’s where we all bond and become a real team. What’s that about?”
My teeth gnash together, and I ignore his intuitive question.
“You know, if you’re into dudes, it’s cool. I’m?—”
“I’m not into dudes,” I snap, way too quick and way too loud.
“I’m just saying, you don’t need to be ashamed of it if you are.”
A sardonic laugh escapes me. Yeah, right.
“I’m bi.” He hikes a shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
My feet falter, but I recover quickly. I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, in shock at how nonchalant he is with his confession, as if he just told me he likes both french toast and waffles.
My mind wanders to my father, and all the hateful things he’d have to say about my new roommate; all the ugly things he’s said about me ; all the ugly things that happened inside my high school locker room once word got out.
I shake my head. “I’m not gay.”
Stephen nods, but the knowing look he gives me tells me he sees right through my front.
And I fucking hate it.
He caught me off-guard the day he walked into our dorm. For some reason, I’d imagined my roommate would be a quiet, studious biochemist, or a goth loner without any friends. I wasn’t prepared for someone who looks like he stepped off a Hollister billboard with the charisma to go along with it.
To add insult to injury, I’ll be spending all my time with him on the ice. There’ll be no escaping him. And I need to keep my distance from him.
Because Stephen McKinley is the embodiment of everything I can’t have.