Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Luka
Back in the locker room, everyone’s talking about Reid’s goal, and I get a few pats on the back as if it was partly my goal too, but this was all him.
“Hart,” Coach Dennings calls, and I spin.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Follow me, the conference is about to start.”
“Umm, sure thing, Coach,” I reply, following him out and down the hallway. Reid is waiting outside the conference room, a security guard positioned on either side of the large doors waiting to pull them back when Coach gives them the signal.
“Great work tonight, boys,” the coach says, then he nods to the guards and I’m instantly blinded by the flashing lights inside.
Coach goes in first and sits in the seat furthest from Reid. I move to follow him in, but I grab the cuff of his jersey and tug a little.
“I’m not sure . . .” I start, and he turns and leans in a little.
“You belong here, don’t forget that,” he says, and I glance back to the room full of reporters waiting to ask us about the game, the win, and undoubtedly Reid’s amazing goal.
Reid sits first, and my hand wobbles a little as I pull out my chair.
I grab one of the bottles of water lined up in front of us and crack the lid.
They’ve got all sorts of sponsored drinks on the table, energy drinks, even a coffee-flavored milk drink that definitely wouldn’t be any good to down after the kind of workout we just had out there on the ice.
Coach Dennings reaches for that one, and now I know why it’s there.
The questions start immediately, and the first is directed to Coach Dennings.
“Killian, how much does this win mean to the Foxes, and are the moves we saw out there today what we can expect from the Foxes all season?” a reporter for Laced Up asks, recorder held out in front of him ready to capture the reply.
“A lot goes into these things, on and off the ice. The club’s confident this is just one of many exciting wins for the team, and as for the moves, well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Reid, you pulled off the impossible with that shot. I don’t think we’ve seen moves like that from a D-man in years. Was that the same move you attempted against Boston?”
I lean into the mic. “Nothing’s impossible when you give this guy a stick,” I say without thinking, and now their attention is all on me.
“Luka, was that one of your trick plays? You’re really starting to live up to that nickname, Mr. Trick Play, aren’t you?
” the same reporter asks, but I have no clue how he knows about the nickname.
Is that something the club would have told them, or did one of the guys say something in one of their interviews?
Either way, they’re all looking at me, waiting for my reply.
“That was all Reid. If it were mine, he would have flicked it to me so I could send it into the top right.”
“Maybe next time,” Reid laughs, and they move on to the cliché-riddled questions about team effort, plans for the next match-up, and Coach Dennings’s team strategies, despite the fact he’ll never actually give any of those up.
We get back to the locker room and the team is waiting, most with towels still around their waists, and they clap when they see us, cheering us into the room.
“Nice work,” Kirkston says, slapping Reid on the shoulder. “Keep that kind of thing up, and you’ll be right up there with me for top points scorer this season,” he says with a grin.
“I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about there,” Reid replies, shaking a few of the guys’ hands on his way to his locker, the biggest grin on his face and chest all puffed up proudly. Fuck, it’s sexy as hell to see him like this.
“Never say never, you heard the kid,” Kirkston continues, and only then do I look up and see that the television that’s normally glued to the golf channel is showing the live feed from the conference room we were just in.
“Nothing’s impossible when you give this guy a stick.
” Kirkston repeats my words and grabs Reid’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug. “Really, that was sick.”
“Thanks,” Reid says, taking the compliment, but I can see he’s uncomfortable with the attention. Which is weird because he’s the captain. He’s one of the best defensive players in the NHL, and he’s been talked about and to for years, but I guess not like this exactly.
“Thanks for inspiring greatness, kid,” Kirkston says on his way past me. “And nice goal.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there beside Reid chasing that top-points-scorer position in no time.”
He laughs with his whole body, one of those head slightly tilted, mouth open, belly laughs that makes everyone within a few feet smile.
“I’ll be happy to have you there beside me, kid.”
The guys go back to dressing, and I strip off my jersey when Thorne, our equipment manager, comes over. “I’ll take them,” he says, pointing to my shoulder pads.
“What for?” I ask as I remove them.
“You’ll be mic’d up from now on.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, so try to keep it clean out there,” he jokes as he walks away with my shoulder pads, and all I can think of is great, now I really better not start checking out Reid’s ass.
I turn, and there it is. Reid’s perfect round ass.
He’s leaning over, rummaging through his bag in the bottom of his locker, and as much as I’d love to spend the next hour just staring at it, I turn away before someone catches me gawking, and I head for the showers.
Seeing as most of the team is done showering, by the time Reid gets in here, they’ll all be gone, and we can take advantage of one of the few places in this arena that doesn’t have cameras.
Thank you, Bobby, the night guard. His shift finished about the same time I was getting here, and we’d chat until one of the trainers or medics arrived and he could let me in.
Apparently, it’s not a good idea to skate without someone fully trained in first aid on-site.
And I guess given Reid’s still partly-swollen nose, they’re not wrong.
“I put your phone on the shelf in your locker,” Reid says, his voice drifting through the shower wall on my left.
“Thanks. I can’t believe I might actually have a place of my own. Fuck, I’ll have to get furniture. I’ll need a bed and a fridge, oh, and a couch and television, and kitchen stuff, plates and bowls and cups and stuff.”
“I didn’t have to worry about any of that,” Reid says, and I slowly turn off the shower. “Everything was just . . . there.”
“You have a new bed, though,” I say, remembering the nights we spent doing all sorts of wonderful things on top of it.
“I ordered it online when Benji and David asked if they could have their own rooms. They used to share a room before our parents died. About a year later, they asked me to move into the master bedroom, so we spent the weekend sorting our parents’ stuff, donating their clothes, and putting most of the other belongings into the attic.
I thought it’d be weird to sleep in there, but I almost felt closer to them being in their space.
It’s one of the few things that’s new in our house, and I picked it because it had a good star rating and had next-day delivery.
I didn’t even have to leave the couch to get it. ”
“I love that almost everything in your house has a memory attached to it. We moved so much that I don’t really have anything like that.”
“We can make new memories with the things you fill your new place with.”
I’m not sure if it was a slip of the tongue or he meant to say “we,” but I don’t care. I love the way it sounded, and if I have my way, I’ll be making all sorts of memories in my new place with Reid, both the sweet kind with sunflowers and spaghetti, and the spicy kind tangled up in my new sheets.
“Yeah, we can, starting with you coming shopping with me for a bed.”
“You want me to come with you to pick a bed?” he asks, and I open my shower stall door and check around the room for anyone else lingering inside.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I prop my head over the stall door, and he glances over his shoulder, bare ass glistening with water and soapy bubbles.
I make a biting motion with my mouth, then whisper, “If you’re going to be in it as often as I hope, it seems only fair you help pick it out.”
“You should get out of here before someone catches you creeping on me in the shower,” he chuckles.
“So you’ll come with me?”
“I’ll come with you. If you got the place. Now get out of here and go call your mom.”
“Meet back at your place later?”
“You better,” he replies, and I take a final look at his perfect ass and then head back out into the locker room to dry off and change, my semi making that achingly difficult. Reid steps out, towel around his waist, just as I’m pulling on my hoodie, and I groan.
“I just got this thing to calm down, and you walk out like that?” I ask, and Reid immediately scans the room, eyes wide. “Relax, everyone’s gone to the sports bar for celebratory drinks. I said we’d meet them there after you got out.”
“You didn’t get the place?” he asks, with a sad frown.
“I haven’t called her yet.”
“Why not?”
I glance down at my growing erection, and he laughs.
“Do you not have any self-control?” he chuckles.
“Have you looked in the mirror lately? No one could have self-control staring at that.”
He blushes with a sweet smirk on his lips, and I cover my eyes with one hand, playfully peeking through my fingers. “Stop looking all adorable, that’s worse.”
“Go cool down outside. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes,” he says, and I leave before I jump him in the middle of the locker room, which definitely does have some cameras. I just don’t know what areas exactly they’re focused on.
Maybe Bobby will give me a tour of the security office so I can get a sneak peek at what the cameras are looking at.
But if I have my own place, I won’t need to find secret spots we can hook up, because we’ll be able to fuck until we fall asleep in each other’s arms, naked and exhausted and totally blissfully happy. Okay. I need to call my mom.