5
Zavier McCormick lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling.
It was two in the morning and he couldn't sleep.
His mind kept replaying the hotel room, the way Spencer had looked in the dim light, the scars that covered his back, the way he had said "I'm gay" like he was expecting to be attacked for it.
Zavier had wanted to say something. He had wanted to tell Spencer that it didn't matter, that he understood, that he was the same.
But the words had gotten stuck in his throat.
He got up and pulled on his jacket. He needed to move. He needed to do something. Sitting in his room was driving him crazy.
The athletic center was dark and quiet. Zavier used his keycard to get in and walked toward the rink.
The ice was empty and silent. He stood at the edge and stared at the smooth white surface, thinking about all the games he had played here, all the fights he had fought, all the moments that had defined his career.
Then he saw the light in the distance. Someone was on the ice.
Zavier walked closer. It was Spencer. He was skating alone, doing drills that were so fast and precise that Zavier couldn't follow them.
Spencer moved like he was born on the ice, like the cold surface was the only place he truly belonged.
His body was fluid and graceful, his movements so natural that they looked effortless.
Zavier sat in the stands and watched. He had been doing this more often lately, finding reasons to be near Spencer. He told himself it was because they were teammates. He told himself it was because he needed to understand how to work with him. He was lying.
Spencer finally noticed him. He skated to the bench and stopped. His face was flushed, his breathing hard. "Couldn't sleep?"
Zavier shook his head. "Same as you."
They sat together on the bench. The ice was quiet. Spencer's bare arms were covered in goosebumps. Zavier wanted to touch them. He didn't.
Spencer said, "I know what you're doing."
"What?"
"Watching me. Following me." Spencer looked at him. His eyes were dark and full of warning. "I'm not a project. I'm not something you can fix."
Zavier's jaw tightened. "I know that."
"Then what are you doing?"
Zavier didn't have an answer. He had never been good at explaining himself. He had always been the strong one, the silent one, the one who acted without thinking. But Spencer made him want to talk. Spencer made him want to say things he had never said to anyone.
"I don't know," Zavier admitted. "I just can't stop looking at you."
The words hung in the air between them. Spencer's eyes widened. Then his expression shut down. He stood up.
"I can't do this," Spencer said. "I can't be someone's secret. I can't be someone's experiment."
Zavier stood up too. "That's not what this is."
"Yes, it is." Spencer's voice cracked. "I've done this before. I've been the guy someone hooks up with when they're confused. I won't do it again."
He walked away, his skates scraping against the ice. Zavier watched him go.
He sat in the stands for a long time after Spencer left.
He thought about what Spencer had said. About being a secret.
About being used. He thought about all the times he had hooked up with guys in dark rooms, never telling anyone, never letting himself feel anything real.
He thought about the way Spencer had looked at him with those dark eyes, full of warning and hurt and something that looked almost like hope.
Zavier realized he had been asking himself the wrong question. It wasn't about whether Spencer wanted him. It was about whether Zavier had the courage to want Spencer openly. He didn't. Not yet. But he was starting to think he might.
He walked out of the athletic center and into the cold night air. The campus was empty and quiet. He started walking toward his apartment, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He was crossing the parking lot when he saw Layton. Layton was wearing gym clothes, his shirt soaked with sweat, his chest heaving. He had been working out. He looked like he had been running for hours.
They stared at each other. The air was heavy with something neither of them wanted to name.
"Couldn't sleep?" Layton asked.
Zavier shook his head. "Same as you."
They walked toward the building together. Neither of them spoke. Their arms brushed. Neither pulled away.
When they reached the doors, Layton stopped. "I saw his back. The scars."
Zavier froze. "What?"
"On the road trip. He had nightmares. I saw them." Layton's voice was quiet, stripped of all its usual arrogance. "Someone hurt him. A lot of people."
Zavier felt rage building in his chest. The thought of anyone hurting Spencer made him want to destroy things. The thought of anyone hurting Layton made him feel the same way. He didn't understand why he felt so protective of both of them. He didn't understand why his chest was so tight.
"He came here to hide," Zavier said. "From all of it."
Layton nodded. "We can't let anyone else hurt him."
It was the first thing they had ever agreed on.
Zavier looked at Layton. His face was pale and serious. There was something in his eyes that Zavier had never seen before. Vulnerability. Fear. A strange, desperate hope.
Zavier said, "You feel it too, don't you? The way he makes you feel."
Layton was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Yeah. I feel it."
"And what are we going to do about it?"
Layton shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
They stood in the parking lot, the cold wind whipping around them. Neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to leave.
Finally, Zavier said, "We should get some sleep. We have practice in the morning."
Layton nodded. He walked toward his car. Zavier walked toward his apartment.
They didn't look back.
Practice the next day was different. The tension was still there, but it had shifted. Layton and Zavier were still arguing, but it was less vicious. They were trying. They were actually trying.
Spencer watched them from the ice. His face was unreadable. He didn't say anything. He just skated and scored and did exactly what he had been doing before.
Coach Miller blew his whistle. "Good work, everyone. That's enough for today."
Zavier skated off the ice and headed for the locker room. Spencer was ahead of him. Zavier watched the way his shoulders moved under his jersey, the way his hair stuck to the back of his neck. He wanted to reach out and touch him. He didn't.
The locker room was chaos. Everyone was talking and laughing and yelling. Zavier sat at his locker and started pulling off his gear. Layton was at the other end of the room, doing the same.
Spencer was in between them, quiet and still.
Drew Matthews walked over to Zavier. "You okay, man? You've been weird all week."
Zavier said, "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You keep looking at Maldonado." Drew lowered his voice. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Zavier said, "No."
Drew shrugged. "Okay. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here."
He walked away. Zavier stared at his locker and tried to breathe.
Spencer was getting dressed. His shirt was off. His back was covered in scars. Zavier couldn't stop looking at them. He couldn't stop thinking about what had caused them.
Layton was staring too. Zavier could see it from across the room. They were both staring.
Spencer pulled his shirt on. He grabbed his bag and walked out of the locker room without a word.
Zavier watched him go. His chest was tight. His hands were shaking.
He followed Spencer out of the locker room and into the hallway. "Wait."
Spencer stopped. He turned around. His expression was wary. "What do you want?"
Zavier said, "I need to tell you something."
Spencer waited.
Zavier took a deep breath. "I'm like you. I'm the same thing you are."
Spencer's eyes widened. "What?"
"I've known for a long time." Zavier's voice was shaking. "I've never told anyone. I've never been with anyone in public. I've only ever hooked up in secret, in places where no one knew my name."
Spencer stared at him. His expression was unreadable.
Zavier continued. "When you said you didn't want to be someone's experiment, I understood. I don't want that either. I don't want to hide. I don't want to pretend. But I don't know how to be anything else."
Spencer was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about you." Zavier's voice cracked. "I can't stop looking at you. I've never felt this way about anyone. It scares me."
Spencer's expression softened. "It scares me too."
They stood in the hallway, looking at each other. Neither of them moved.
Zavier said, "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be someone who hurts you."
Spencer said, "Then don't be."
He walked away. Zavier watched him go.
Zavier stood in the hallway for a long time after Spencer left. His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking. He had just told the truth. He had just told the truth to someone for the first time in his life.
It felt terrifying. It felt liberating. It felt like the beginning of something he didn't fully understand.
He walked back to the locker room. Everyone was gone. The room was quiet and empty.
Layton was still there. He was sitting at his locker, staring at the wall. He looked lost.
Zavier sat down next to him. "You okay?"
Layton shook his head. "No. I'm not okay."
Zavier waited.
Layton said, "I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop thinking about the scars on his back, the way he looked at me in the hotel room, the way he said he was gay like he was expecting me to attack him."
Zavier said, "I know."
"I don't understand what's happening to me." Layton's voice was raw. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I've never wanted to protect someone so badly. I've never wanted to—"
He stopped. His face was red.
Zavier said, "Wanted to what?"
Layton looked at him. His eyes were desperate. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
Zavier put his hand on Layton's shoulder. It was the first time he had ever touched him without violence.
Layton looked at the hand. Then he looked at Zavier. His expression shifted.
"You feel it too," Layton said. "You feel the same way."
Zavier nodded. "Yeah. I feel it."
Layton's voice was barely a whisper. "What are we going to do?"
Zavier didn't have an answer. He had never had an answer. He had spent his whole life avoiding questions like this. He had spent his whole life pretending he didn't want things he wasn't supposed to want.
But Spencer had changed everything. Spencer had made him want to stop pretending.
"Maybe we don't have to do anything," Zavier said. "Maybe we just see where this goes."
Layton stared at him. "You mean the three of us? Together?"
Zavier nodded slowly. "I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to stop feeling this way. I don't know how to walk away."
Layton was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded too. "I don't either."
They sat in the empty locker room, side by side, both of them lost in the same confusion. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.
Finally, Zavier said, "We should probably go. It's late."
Layton nodded. They stood up and walked out of the locker room together.
The night air was cold and sharp. Zavier shivered. Layton was shivering too. Neither of them had jackets.
Zavier said, "You can come to my apartment if you want. It's closer."
Layton hesitated. Then he nodded.
They walked to Zavier's apartment in silence. The building was old and cramped. Zavier's apartment was small and cluttered with hockey equipment.
Layton sat on the couch and stared at the wall. Zavier sat next to him.
"I don't know how to do this," Layton said. "I don't know how to be with someone. I don't know how to be with two people. I don't know anything."
Zavier said, "I don't either. We'll figure it out."
Layton looked at him. His eyes were full of fear and hope and something that looked almost like love.
"Promise?" Layton asked.
Zavier said, "Promise."
They sat on the couch for a long time. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. But something had shifted between them. Something had changed.
Zavier fell asleep with Layton's head on his shoulder. He woke up hours later, stiff and cold, but he didn't move. He didn't want to wake Layton. He didn't want this moment to end.
When Layton finally woke up, he looked at Zavier with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep."
Zavier said, "It's okay."
"I should go." Layton stood up. "I need to think about all of this."
Zavier nodded. "Take all the time you need."
Layton walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle.
"Zavier," he said. "Thank you. For everything."
Zavier said, "You don't have to thank me."
Layton opened the door and walked out.