Chapter Eight #4
Luca hadn’t spent much time with them yet, the language barrier being the chief reason.
But by the time Mooney returned, Breezy had gotten the gaming console he always packed for general use hooked up to the TV, and they started a round of Mario Kart.
Dmitriyev begged off on account of being too old for it, which was a filthy lie; he’d played the previous afternoon on the plane.
Luca suspected a ploy to get out of babysitting Fedorov for a few hours.
His suspicions were confirmed when Dmitriyev and Abrahamov posted up by the tiny balcony, drinking straight liquor from the glasses the hotel left on the bathroom counter for toothbrushes, and chatting in fast-paced Russian while Fedorov played.
He didn’t need much English for the game, nor to understand shitty trash talk.
The rest of the team came by in fits and starts.
Hayes stayed for a drink while Vanderbilt stopped in long enough to knock Fedorov on the shoulder in congratulations and then said he needed to catch up on sleep.
As a new father, no one doubted it except Luca, who caught him eyeing his phone in a way a married man had no business doing.
The Swedes and Finns had a few more drinks, and Luca relinquished his controller to Gustafsson while he downed a tiny bottle of whiskey and followed it with Sprite, a combination he would not be repeating anytime soon.
When the party was in full swing, Tom and Jax deigned to show up.
“Captain,” Luca greeted Tom. “I didn’t think you would be here.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “As if the coaches don’t know this is happening. I bet they did it on purpose.”
Luca frowned. “What for?”
“Illicit hotel room parties with shitty booze we can’t tell anyone about? Much better team bonding than going to a bar. Even I remember that from Juniors.” Tom rolled his eyes a little as he said it and then jerked his head in the direction of Fedorov. “I’m going to go do the captain thing.”
He took an awkward seat on the corner of the bed and clapped Fedorov on the shoulder. Jax watched him go, eyeing the red marks at the back of his neck with no small pleasure.
“Subtle,” Luca told him, and offered him a tiny tequila.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jax downed the drink, shuddering when he swallowed.
They settled by the wall, the only free place in the room to lean against, and watched as Tom let Breezy talk him into playing a round of Mario Kart, which he was very bad at.
“Breezy should be an A,” Jax said.
“I know.”
“Do you know why…”
Luca shrugged. He had an educated guess, but it was nothing he would share until Breezy talked about it of his own accord.
“I mean, I’m a sociable guy, but I couldn’t have made this happen with everyone attending.” Jax gestured at the party around them.
“In part, that is because you don’t accept when others treat you like shit,” Luca pointed out. “He does.”
“Hm.” Jax didn’t have a response. Soon after, Tom lost his round, and the two of them moseyed off again, claiming old men needed rest.
At twenty-five, Jax was hardly old. Luca wondered how long their excuses would hold.
Dmitriyev followed soon after, leaving Fedorov to negotiate his way through a few more drunken rounds as the other team members trickled out one after the other. By two in the morning, it was down to him, Breezy, Mooney, and Luca.
“Was fun,” Fedorov said in his deep, quiet voice. “We do again?”
“Da.” Breezy gave him a clap on the shoulder so heavy it made him wince. “You should come to our apartment sometime. We’ll order something off the meal plan and play Counter-Strike.”
Fedorov had probably only understood “Counter-Strike,” but the word made him grin as he left.
“Now you’ve done it.” Mooney shook his head. “He’s gonna smoke us next time.”
“Maybe he can teach us how to suck less,” Breezy offered.
“You’re too nice, dude.” Mooney slid off the bed with a groan, stretching. “The flight is gonna be murder tomorrow. You coming, Luca?”
“I’ll help clean up.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Luca and Breezy alone in Breezy’s wreck of a hotel room.
It occurred to Luca belatedly that he’d had no reason to stay for the entire party.
He could have left at any time and gone to bed the way he’d been wanting to for hours.
But he had also been waiting for this exact moment, alone with Breezy, as they piled as many tiny bottles of alcohol as would fit into the trash can and washed the cups out in the sink.
“Man, It’s like I’m back in Juniors on a roadie in the middle of nowhere.” Breezy laughed, showing Luca a bottle he’d found hidden within a lampshade.
“I never did this in Juniors,” Luca found himself confessing.
“No?”
“No. My teammates, ah, they didn’t…like me very much.”
A familiar expression flitted across Breezy’s face. Luca recognized it as similar to how he’d looked at Denisov when he attacked Howie, but before he could ask what had upset Breezy, it was gone again. “What! Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the most likable—”
Luca snorted. “I’m not. I’m aloof and rude, but they mostly hated me because I was a better player and knew how to talk to girls.”
“Idiots.”
“Yes.”
“Well, did you enjoy the evening, at least?”
Luca considered. All told, he hadn’t been missing out on anything world-shattering.
The same teammates he saw all day every day had squeezed into a room too small for all of them, talked about the same things they always talked about, drank, and put their gross hockey player feet everywhere.
Nothing wild or crazy had happened; nothing awful either.
“I did,” he told Breezy.
Breezy’s smile was luminous.
Luca stepped closer and cupped his face in his hands, the action an impulse he lacked the time to control before the electricity of skin on skin buzzed along his neurons.
They would be having sex, he remembered, with the clarity of the somewhat buzzed.
They hadn’t decided when or how, but they would be doing it.
Breezy’s breath caught in his throat. His whole body froze up. “We should, um. We should maybe wait until we’re home? For the, uh. The coaching stuff we talked about?”
“Good idea,” Luca said.
“So, um. Goodnight?”
The electricity fizzled and sparked out.
Luca would have to rethink his plan of how to approach teaching Breezy about sex.
He’d been assuming they would try, and it would be good because he wanted Breezy so much.
He couldn’t imagine it not being good. But if the thought was enough to discomfort Breezy—that wouldn’t do.
Luca had to stop thinking about sex the way he did and start coming at it from Breezy’s perspective, which meant forgetting his fantasies and accepting Breezy might simply not enjoy it.
Fueled by three and a half tiny whiskeys, Luca hugged Breezy tight for the second time since they’d gotten to Chicago and then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Chris.”