Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JAMIE
I don't know whether it's the knee-melting orgasm or the fact that the numbers on a microwave are no longer my night light, but I sleep like a rock. But as I wake up, the night before comes back to me.
Shit.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand and call Avery.
After three rings, he picks up.
“Hold on a sec.”
I hear whispering in the background and the sound of someone running into a piece of furniture.
“Mr. Lawson, are you partaking in extracurricular exercise? What does your coach have to say about that?”
He snorts in response.
“Oh, please. I'm pretty sure Coach would line up my hookups personally if he thought it would make me shut up about the return-to-play timeline.”
I know his rehab has been going slower than he'd like, and I wonder if talking to me isn't making it worse.
“Still no luck?”
He sighs loudly, and I can almost picture him flopping into the armchair in our apartment's living room.
Well, his apartment, I guess.
“Nah. They're letting me on the ice with the guys again, but I'm still in a no-contact jersey.”
“That sucks, man.”
He clears his throat, clearly done with the conversation at hand.
“Please tell me you've also found a hookup. It would be a fucking shame if a washed-up former college athlete was getting luckier than you.”
I cover my face with a hand, not sure what to tell him – what I even can tell him. I know my instinct was to call him for his advice, but now that push has come to shove I'm not really sure what to say.
Apparently the silence says enough.
“Carter...you didn't hook up with a married guy, did you?”
“He's not married.” Somehow I can't bring myself to pick up the convenient lie.
“...engaged? I mean, dude, as long as everyone's consenting, what's the problem?”
I laugh at that. Avery is nothing if not sex-positive.
“He's...discrete.”
“So he's closeted.” I can tell from the tone of his voice that he is not a fan of this.
“You know it's not that simple.”
Avery has been known to hook up with people of all genders, and has as long as I've known him.
At the same time, he's never talked to the press or coaches about it and has a strict “don't ask, don't tell” policy in general when it comes to his personal life.
He's not really in the closet...but he sure as hell isn't out of it, either.
“But, Jamie...doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of being out if you're dating a closeted guy?”
His words mirror my own thoughts. For the past five years, I've told myself that one of the upsides of being out is that I'd never have to hide.
Now, here I am hiding again. At the same time, being out has been such an enormous clusterfuck with the press that I can't imagine dating someone right now, with all the increased attention it would bring them.
“Who said anything about dating? A blowjob doesn't make a relationship – as you well know.”
Avery preferred to keep things casual – hell, he and I had even been known to fool around on occasion, although that hadn't happened for years at this point.
“Yeah, and I also know you. If you're being this cagey about this guy, you're already invested. You're never shy to share details.”
He has a point.
“They're not my details to share.”
He pauses, and I'm worried about what's to come.
“Look, I'm not trying to corner you here. I just want to make sure you're not lying to yourself.”
“I'm not.” I'm relieved to find that feels mostly true.
“Good. Then enjoy it while you can – and good luck in Carolina. I think you'll need it.”
As I arrive at the airport later that day for our flight, I prepare myself to see Ethan again.
After last night, I'm sure he'll be a basket case; hell, it's not like I feel exactly calm about it.
But the more I think about it, the more I go back to his offer that night at the club – if I'm going to be hooking up with anyone, why not another player?
Even if we don't hookup again, I know for a fact having another gay player as a...friend?...has made my life better these last few weeks. It would be a shame if I lost it over a blowjob.
A fucking great blowjob.
Still, knowing this could be awkward, I've come prepared. I emailed the video coach this morning and by the time I was here, he had exactly what I needed ready. Before we board, I grab the iPad out of my backpack and put it under my arm.
Sure enough, when I board the plane, Ethan is already seated, with headphones on, reading – on his new eReader, I am delighted to find.
Shoving my backpack under the row in front of him, I grab my usual seat.
If I'm not mistaken, there's a question in the glance he gives me.
I gesture for him to take off the headphones.
“I could really use your help thinking through this zone entry. I don't think anyone's quite cracked their defense yet this season.”
Even though I thought of this as an excuse to calm Ethan's nerves, the truth of the matter is that his help over the previous weeks has been immeasurable. He just sees defenses in a way I don't – at least not yet. And as a rookie, I'll take any help I can get.
We spend the rest of the flight dissecting Carolina's top-tier defense.
There certainly aren't the gaps here that we've seen on some of the teams we've played – no first-pair defensemen telegraphing their moves from a mile away.
Still, we identify a few places where we think we could open up some plays, and a few drills we want to run at practice the next morning.
As we prepare to land, I nod at the eReader. “You're still using that, huh?”
A blush rises in his cheeks. “Um, yeah. It's nice – way easier than carrying around a ton of books on long roadies. Thanks again.”
I'm happy that he's getting use out of it – I knew the gift was a risk.
“Did you, uh, finish that book I gave you?” This line of questioning feels dangerous, given what happened the last time we talked about that book.
From the way his eyes dart around the plane, I can tell he senses the danger, too. Still, he lowers his voice and answers me.
“Um, yeah. And the others you loaded for me. And, uh, a few more that I bought.”
I can't help but smile at that. “I'm glad you liked them.”
I get a small smile back from him. As the plane touches down on the tarmac, his foot starts to bounce. Just as I'm about to ask if he's ok, he speaks.
“Hey, would you be willing to watch some offensive film with me tonight? At the hotel? Carolina's got this new rookie and I'd like to hear your thoughts on how to cover him better.”
Is this really about watching film? Or does he want a repeat of last night? Either way, I know my answer.
“Sure, Cap. That'd be great.”
We land right around dinner time, and it turns out Alexei has made reservations for the team at a steakhouse near the hotel.
With the game the next day, we avoid alcohol.
Still, it's nice to sit and spend time with the guys off the ice.
Lindy shares that Astrid is expecting their first child and the table roars in celebration.
The guys tease Mac that his girlfriend will end up wanting a baby soon, too.
The chirping only escalates when he goes green at the thought.
It's still early when we return to the hotel, and the guys start to split off into their usual groups – Gagnon, Lindy, and Alexei are getting a poker game together while Matty will be running a Mario Kart tournament on his Nintendo Switch in his room.
Tremblay finds me as they start to leave.
“Are you, uh, still up for some film review? If you want to join them, that's fine.”
“Ethan! You are so boring – live a little!” Alexei chirps from the closing elevator.
“Nah, that sounds good. I'll just get into some more comfortable clothes and come to your room if that's ok?”
“Yeah, uh, that sounds good. I'm in 501.”
“Oh, that's just down from me. See you in ten?” I still wonder what Ethan envisions for tonight.
His eyes give nothing away as he nods and enters the elevator.
Twelve minutes later, I'm standing in front of Ethan's door at the end of the hall. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a little extra care with my appearance – a quick rinse in the shower, the slightly-too-small UCLA hockey shirt from my freshman year that clings in all the right places.
It's worth it when Ethan opens the door and his eyes drift downward for a moment, lingering on my pecs. As if catching himself, they dart back up, that pink stealing across his cheeks again.
“Come on in.”
He too has changed, although his hoodie leaves much more to the imagination. I find myself a little disappointed to find that he has hooked his iPad up to the TV, with film from Carolina already queued up.
“I, uh, wasn't sure if the film was a cover story or not.”
He hesitates a moment before looking at me.
“To be honest, neither was I.”
I appreciate his honesty at the moment.
“Cap, this can go however you want. If you want to go over film, we can go over film. If you want a repeat of last night? Well, I wouldn't be opposed to that, either.”
He sits on the bed and stares at the ground.
“Could we...could we maybe talk for a second? About what happened?”
This is perhaps the most surprising choice of all. In the time I've known him, Tremblay has never really been a talker.
“Uh, sure.” I sit down on the second bed in the room, putting what feels like an appropriate distance between us.
I realize that we've hardly ever had the opportunity to talk without an audience. While I'm not as worried about the guys overhearing us on the plane as he is, I still wouldn't choose that venue for this conversation.
“I, uh, had a good time last night.”
Ouch. Why does this already sound like a brushoff? I raise an eyebrow at him.
“But I don't know if it's such a good idea. You know, you and me and...what happened.”
His speech is almost as circumspect here as it was on the plane, when we were surrounded by the team.
“No offense, but wasn't it your idea in the first place? That night at the club?”
His chuckle contains no real joy.