12. Cameron
TWELVE
Cameron
This was an incredibly bad idea.
Also, I now know how it feels when I talk up other people’s dates, and yeah, I’m not a fan.
Not that the guys were flirting with Finn, and who was I to say jack squat if they were, because me and Finn were friends with some hidden hot AF bennies, but the guys were buzzing around him like flies. As were the ladies. And the kids.
Finn was giving Thor-type speeches and, to be fair, doing a damn good impersonation of Chris Hemsworth.
The kids were enthralled. Many were caught up in the role-playing and were pretending to be Captain America, Iron Man, and Black Widow.
One rebel was quoting Deadpool, which got him a timeout from his mother and a glare for his dad from his wife for letting the little guy watch Deadpool in the first place.
Poor Alexie. He’d be flying back to Belarus with an irate spouse tomorrow.
Unpleasant, to say the least. Which was why I didn’t do wives, or husbands, or significant others.
Why deal with all that side crap when all a man wanted was to get laid, have a snack, and take a nap. Oh, and play hockey and—
The fuck? Was Zeetoo making eyes at Finn?
I leaned to the left to stare around someone blocking my view.
It was widely known in and out of the locker room that Zeetoo was bisexual.
He’d dated one of Ariana Grande’s backup dancers for the first year he was in LA, which caused a stir for about ten minutes, then the haters moved onto something else.
Zeetoo was checking out Thor’s hammer, the lech.
I should just go over there and loop an arm around Finn to show—
“So did you get a rotten pepper?”
I snapped out of the ugly green fog of jealousy to find Charlie—sporting a damn good character look from the Vikings TV show—staring at me curiously.
“What?” I asked, distracted by Zeetoo chuckling at something Finn had said. Granted, there were about twenty people surrounding Finn, including a pack of kids, but Zeetoo’s attention on my man—and yes I wanted to call him mine—was a little too attentive.
“The dip.” Charlie pointed to the glob of guacamole sitting on a chip about four inches from my mouth. How long had that been there? I stuffed the food in and chewed. “You were holding it and hovering, and I thought maybe you found a bad jalapeno.”
“Nope,” I said after swallowing. “Good dip.”
“Thanks, I got the recipe from Zeig’s wife, Rosa. She said her grandmother makes the best guac, and man was she right!”
“Totally the best dip,” I replied, listing to the left to try to see around our back-up goalie, Ryan Sahin --who was done up as Hiccup from How to Train Your Dragon, complete with a small Toothless stuffed dragon on his shoulder -- to find Finn but he had disappeared.
“I see you found Zeetoo.” I snarked and nodded his way.
Charlie’s smile dipped for a moment, but then he was nudging me and changing the subject.
“The kids love your date,” Charlie said. The comment hit me hard. My eyes flared as my head whipped in Charlie’s direction.
“He is not my date. Finn is not my date. We’re friends, that’s all.
Why would you say that?” I replied with as much calm as I could muster.
Charlie gave me a glance that screamed I was protesting too much.
I chilled things down. “I mean, do I look like the kind of person Finn Kerrigan would date? Not that he’d date me because I’m a guy, and he’s straight, and… yeah.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything. We’re all queer here at the dip table,” he replied as he waved a hand at Prez loading his paper plate with a pile of chips accompanied by at least a pound of guacamole.
Phillipe was standing next to our team captain spooning some taco dip onto his plate while trying his best to keep his horned helmet on his head.
Zeetoo, the flirt, was not here because he was…
where had he gone now? “I just asked because your eyes have been glued to Finn since you arrived.”
“No, they’re not,” I answered as I wiped my fingers on a napkin that read VALHALLA BOUND. Charlie went all-out for his parties.
“Yeah they are,” Prez and Phillippe chimed in.
I shot them death ray stares that didn’t even make them flinch. “No, they are not. Finn’s just shy and not used to big parties,” I lied.
Phillippe gawked at me. “A movie star who isn’t used to big parties?
” he asked, his pretty French-Canadian accent at total odds with his faux fur cape and plastic-horned battle helm outfit.
“Is that not a cross up or… how do you say it? Mix-up? Crossed purpose?” He sighed then repeated himself in French, which cleared things up not one bit.
All three men at the dip table stared at me as if I had a longship resting atop my head.
“No, it is not. Not everyone who’s an actor likes to be in big crowds,” I replied with a little more vinegar than I should have.
Prez, Charlie, and Phillippe all exchanged looks, then began mumbling about how I was right, they were wrong, and lots of stars disliked being with the public and the price of fame.
Brad Pitt, Harrison Ford, hell the list was as long as my arm of famous people who talked freely about how being famous was not all it was cracked up to be.
“He’s straight. He’s just a friend. I’m training him for a hockey role he wants to win, and he’s helping me with my acting. ”
“Good thing. Those last commercials you did were painful,” Prez said around a mouthful of spicy guacamole.
Charlie and Philippe nodded as they chewed.
“That is why we call you Pinocchio,” Phillippe interjected as his horned helm slid over his eyes. The air filled with French curse words. “Stupid hat,” he mumbled while shoving at his hat.
“Thank you for your kindness and supportive words,” I tossed out.
Prez snickered as I stalked off to find Finn with no ulterior motive other than to check that he was okay among this sea of snarky jocks who needed to mind their own beeswax, as my father liked to say.
Dad was big on bee jokes. He had a few hives in the backyard.
God I missed him, and Mom, and my sister.
And I maybe sort of missed my older brother, Lyle. Just maybe sort of.
I stopped by the bar and ordered two Cokes with lots of ice from the caterer Charlie had hired.
She smiled, winked, and handed me two glasses of soda along with a slip of paper with her number on it.
I nodded at the pretty redhead, then headed outside and dropped the phone number into a potted plant on the way out of the door.
I found Zeetoo, half hidden behind a yucca, on his phone, his expression tense, his brow furrowed.
At least, if he was out here staring at his phone, then he wasn’t messing with Finn.
“Sup?” I asked Zeetoo, who jumped a mile and hurriedly shut his phone, then gave me a shit-eating grin.
“Sup,” he replied, then sauntered off in the opposite direction.
“Great talk,” I muttered, then continued my search.
I didn’t have to search too long or too hard for my errant non-date-buddy.
Finn was in the backyard, running in circles around several palm trees lit from the ground, as kids of various sizes chased him.
Some, I assumed, were bad guys, or at least one was, as he had found a green tablecloth and a stick that he was brandishing like a weapon.
“I have glorious porpoises!” Little Loki yelled as he ran after Finn.
Resting my ass against the railing of a wide porch, I watched Finn and the children for several minutes, smiling at their hoots and hollers as they played out some version of a Viking tale I was not familiar with.
Thor, Loki, and a tiny version of Black Panther were in charge of the world—which was a small-looking glass orb yard decoration—and had to ward off the other kids, aka bad guys from another planet.
Finally, the world-saving ended when Loki was called inside by his mom because it was time to go home to bed.
The other kids were rounded up as well, which left Finn standing in Charlie’s tidy yard, panting and sweating, grinning like he had just won an Oscar.
I carried his soda over to him.
“Thanks,” he huffed, taking the cold drink, then draining the red plastic cup in one long pull.
I watched his throat working as he drank, enjoying the movement of muscle as he swallowed.
When his gaze met mine, his brilliant blue eyes sparkled with pleasure.
My gut clenched as my breathing hiked. It was right then that I knew I needed some space.
Friends didn’t get this worked up over a smile.
They didn’t leap on their buddy in a bathroom in a fit of jealous insecurity.
And they did not stalk their friend at a party for talking to another guy.
This behavior was not me. I didn’t know who it was, but Cam Chavkin it was not.
And it terrified the living shit out of me.
“No worries.”
“This has been really fun. Your teammates are so friendly and accepting of you being queer. It’s… well, it’s nice to see in a sport that is so macho.”
“Yeah, they’re great guys. The whole organization is working overtime to ensure that everyone can play the game. Inclusivity is important.”
He nodded, then held up his empty plastic cup. We tapped them together as if they were champagne flutes and not red Solo cups.
“I will drink to that.” He turned his attention to a small group of people who had meandered outside.
We did the whole party schmoozing thing, making small talk, eating too much dip, and wishing Charlie had chosen a theme with less fur and horned hats because it was damned warm for pelts covering your body.
“… Stupid!” I heard someone yell and turned to see Charlie dragging his brother into the house, Zeetoo tugging back. Siblings. I feel the pain. I exchanged glances with Prez who shrugged in an “it’s-Zeetoo-what-do-you-expect” kind of way.
Around midnight, I had to drag Finn away from his fans. He had signed a ton of autographs and taken hundreds of selfies.
“Oh hey, all the Storm players and their dates are tagging me on Insta,” he commented as we drove home.
The light from his phone illuminated his face as he smiled at the online interaction.
I nearly ran up over the curb once as I was so fixated on him.
He merely chuckled at the tire bump, then went back to his IG tags as I fumbled over some lame excuse about how my power steering fluid must be low.
Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I forced myself to watch the road.
I did not need to rear-end someone. Well, someone other than Finn.
Which sounded good, to be honest. Maybe we both could use a good rear-ending.
I knew I wouldn’t mind it at all. My dick started to perk up as I drove, and by the time we were at his house, I was fully erect. Then, he turned to me.
“Thanks for a fun night.”
“It was good to have you there.”
“I like your friends. Your teammate Zeetoo told me this awesome joke about—”
I growled, coming over all territorial, which wasn’t what we had going on at all, and his eyes widened.
Then, he smiled and offered me his hand.
And all the dirty thoughts vanished in a puff of cold gray smoke.
Right, a handshake. Because we were still in buddy mode.
I clasped his hand, shook it, and then, said something stupid.
“I’ll escort you to your door.”
Yep, that was the brilliance that is Cam Chavkin. As if this brute of a guy needed me to walk him to his stoop like he was a Georgia debutante.
“It’s only forty feet,” he pointed out. “But sure, if you want.”
I did want. The night didn’t feel as if it should be over yet. And so, in true gallant style, I rushed around the car, opened the door for him, and then, bowed at the waist.
Finn snorted at my nonsense, but allowed me to walk at his side to his front step. He turned to look at me after unlocking and opening the door.
“Did you want to come in?” I heard the subtle underlying question in that simple query.
Yes, yes, hell yes, I wanted to come in.
I wanted to lock the door on the outside world—the world that still scorned men loving other men—and free Finn from that burden.
I wanted to hold him close, taste his skin, feel his body shudder as he found release…
I wanted to lie beside him as he slept, then watch the sun cast his skin in deep golden rays.
That last bit put the fear of God into me. Cam Chavkin did not linger in bed with lovers. Knowing that Finn was different from all the others shoved an icy shiv into my heart.
“Yeah, I would, but I’m tired.” I inserted a fake yawn. “I’ll see you at hockey school tomorrow,” I added to lighten the moment I had slaughtered.
“Oh, okay, that sounds good. I’m tired too. It’s hard work being a god of thunder,” he quipped, but I saw the disappointment in his eyes.
I smiled as best I could, then turned to head back to my car.
I heard the door close, the knocker giving a barely there clatter as Finn pushed the door shut.
I took another step, and then one more, then paused.
Staring down at the smooth blacktop, I took a second to try to figure out what the fuck I was doing.
What the hell was wrong with my brain to turn down an invitation so laced with carnal pleasures?
I could leave before morning came. It would be simple. Fuck, then roll.
“You’re an asshole, Chavkin,” I growled, spun on my heel, and rushed to the heavy front door.
I knocked once. The locks inside tumbled, and the door opened, as if Finn was just waiting on the other side for me to change my mind.
Which I totally had. “Fuck that shit, I’m all yours.
” I nudged the door open wider, captured his face between my hands, and kissed the motherfucking daylights out of him.
He melted into me, pulling me inside, mouths still sealed, and slamming the door on everything that was out there.
In here, it was only me and Finn. That was more than enough. It was everything.