Chapter Fourteen
Elliot
On Friday night, he had dinner at the restaurant by the hotel. He had his phone out on the table and was watching a guy on TikTok try to make a pie with a cow in his kitchen when a call from Diego popped up.
Elliot swiped it open, both disappointed and relieved it wasn’t Dustin. He hadn’t heard from Dustin since The Donut Incident, and he’d been way too scared to be the one to text after that. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done it right at all.
“Dímelo.”
“?Que es la que, Papo?”
“Nada, Mano, just eating dinner.”
“Cool, cool.” He heard Diego’s screen door bang closed as Diego went out to the patio. “You been good? What’ve you been doing?”
Dustin’s cock appeared in Elliot’s mind like a totem pole with a donut on it, and he swallowed a mouthful of lettuce too fast as he said, “Not much,” and started choking. He had to put the phone down while he drank water, and when he came back, Diego said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah, fine.” He set the water glass down and wiped his eyes. “Just the usual stuff, bro, you know. Gym. Chillin. Portland’s good.”
“How’s your bet with The Great Bendito going?”
Elliot nearly choked again. He forgot he told Diego about that. “Yeah, man, you know,” he said. “Rising to the occasion.”
“My man.”
“What about you?” Elliot speared a bite of salad, anxiously redirecting the conversation. “How’s Renata?”
Diego sighed. Elliot heard him settle into the wicker chair on his patio. Somewhere on his end, a neighbor yelled something.
“She hates me. I told her she had to make that guy come talk to me – she won’t do it. So I found him on her Instagram and I sent him a message like, you know, telling him to watch his step or whatever, and now she found out and she won’t even talk to me.”
Elliot sighed, chewing. “Yeah, I don’t know, man. That’s not my area.”
“It’s not your problem, bro. I’ll figure it out.”
They chatted about Tampa and Diego’s Honda, and who they liked for the draft pick. Eventually, Diego went to bed, and Elliot put the phone back on the table and went back to TikTok.
He was avoiding calling his mother.
He’d been doing it all day. He’d gone to Force for longer than he needed to, and then to a movie by himself, and then he’d almost texted Dustin, just so he wouldn’t have to call her. But if today ended and he didn’t, it would be unforgivable.
He picked up the phone. His mom’s voice was small and quiet when she picked up at the other end.
“Hey Mijo.”
“Hey Mamá. Bendición.”
“Dios te bendiga, Mijo.”
He stared across the restaurant with the phone to his ear while the waiter put down his glass. Finally, his mom said, “Thanks for calling.”
“I should’ve called sooner.”
“No.” She sighed. “No, I should’ve called you.”
There were lots of things he could say now: how are you doing?
What did you do today? He could say something nice about Uncle Salvador.
They could talk about how they spent this day two years ago: when Sal came in from Miami and took them to that mini golf park and they lost the ball in a fountain and were laughing so hard they couldn’t even explain to the attendant what was going on.
“It’s a sad day,” said his mom. “Thanks for calling.”
“Of course.”
“What have you been doing?”
Sighing, he picked up his water. “Just the same stuff. Training. You know.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes, Mamá.”
“And you have friends there? You met some people?”
She sounded relieved not to be talking about Sal, so he told her about Force, and Jackie at Pineapple.
He mentioned Drew, and she wanted lots of details that he was happy to provide, because if he was talking about Drew he wasn’t talking about Dustin, and he was terrified he might slip up and start talking about Dustin.
It wasn’t a real conversation, but it was as close as they’d gotten to one since last year.
He thought about Sal on the way up to his room.
He’d lived in Miami and Elliot didn’t see him all that often.
But he was as close to a dad as Elliot figured he’d had.
He wasn’t married, and he never had kids, so when he died, Elliot’s mom dealt with a lot of it.
That’s what Elliot mostly remembered about last year: his mom being on the phone, explaining that she was Salvador’s sister.
She didn’t have time to be doing this, she kept saying, she had a full-time job.
Elliot just kept quiet and tried to cook and be helpful around the house.
But he was about to go into the draft, and he didn’t have a lot of time either.
That ended up being a good thing. He just focused on the draft and didn’t think about Sal. He figured that’s what Bennet would have done. He knew from Bennet’s Wikipedia page that his dad died when he was ten, and he figured hockey probably helped Bennet forget and move on after that.
He showered and brushed his teeth, and checked the time on his phone. It was only eight-thirty, but he didn’t feel like going out. He put on a clean pair of sweats and the Golden Girls and got into bed.
He was halfway through the episode where Burt Reynolds does his cameo when his phone lit up beside him. Elliot picked it up and squinted at the screen in the dim room.
Hey kid.
His heart flipped. The name he’d put Dustin under – The Great Bendito – showed above the message. Elliot sat up, muting the TV, and waited for more. When nothing came, he sent, hey.
His heart went about a thousand miles an hour while the reply dots bubbled.
The message came through: What are you doing?
Clicking the TV all the way off, Elliot sent, nothing.
He waited a long time with the glow of the phone screen lighting the room, until Dustin finally sent, Is it okay that I texted you?
Elliot forced himself to wait a minute before sending Sure, so he wouldn’t look totally desperate, then added, sup with you dog?
Just had dinner. I was gonna go out but i’m pretty tired. A link came through. You seen this?
Elliot tapped it open. It was an article on The Hockey Writers about the agent who represented Riley Webb and Nic Arsenault.
According to the article, he was positioning himself as an agent explicitly for queer players who wanted to go public.
Help them navigate the media landscape, make sure they got treated fairly in contract negotiations.
His name was Rick Gallagher. He was open to new clients.
Seems like a good thing? Elliot sent.
Dustin sent back the eyeroll emoji. Cash grab. Agents will jump on anything they think will make them money
Elliot didn’t know what to say to that. His agent seemed fine, but he didn’t have anything to compare her to.
Do you think anyone will go for it? he sent.
You mean will more people come out? No idea. That would be nice. Seems unlikely though, from what i’ve seen of the league
A long time with nothing, during which Elliot tried desperately to think of something to say, then Dustin sent, What did you do today?
His heart skipped again. Dustin Bennet was asking about his day? It was like being in an alternate reality. He told him about the gym and the movie, chatting with Diego. He didn’t mention Sal or his mom. He was glad not to be thinking about Sal or his mom.
Wow busy day, said Dustin. Who’s Diego?
Just a buddy from Tampa. We grew up together. Played basketball
Ah right you told me.
Another heart skip: Dustin Bennet remembered something they’d talked about a week ago? The alternate reality was getting crazier. There’s a picture of him on insta with me and Reef, he sent, if you wanna see what he looks like
I saw it
Elliot‘s eyes went a bit wide. That picture was basically something he put up to impress girls. What would Bennet think of it?
Three dots, then Bennet sent: Risqué for the NHL. Surprised they let you keep it up
Elliot’s face went hot. what do you mean?
The side-eye emoji. Come on.
I don’t know what you’re talking about
This is a thirst trap
It’s just me and some friends by the pool
I can see your dick Rodriguez
He swallowed, hesitating before he sent, Are you looking at it right now?
It was a long time before Dustin replied, Yes
Under the comforter, he pulsed in his sweats. A thousand questions came into his head: What do you think? Do you like it? Why are you looking at it? What else are you doing? What are you wearing? Could you take that off and send me a picture of what’s underneath?
Instead, he sent, yeah you got me. I knew it was borderline. Should probably take it down
The three dots came up and bubbled, then went away. Nothing came for a long time, and then, Bennet sent: But then how would I look at it?
Virgen Santa. Elliot blushed, his stomach leaping, and couldn’t believe what he was doing as he sent, I guess I could send you your own copy
Dustin sent back the shocked face. Then, in all seriousness I think it’s probably fine. If the league wanted you to take it down they would’ve made you do it already. Maybe you’re getting away with it because you’re such a talented little shit
Elliot’s stomach leapt again, and he blushed even harder. Bennet telling him he was good at stuff was like the alternate reality had made him king of everything. He wanted Dustin to call him a talented little shit all the time. It made him…weirdly hard?
Then Bennet sent, anyway I can’t say shit, I have one too, and a picture came through.
Elliot’s insides went through a familiar upheaval. It was the one in the locker room, with Dustin sweaty and shirtless, holding the Stanley Cup.
My thirst trap, Dustin sent below it, and the blushing emoji hiding behind its hands.
Elliot smiled. I’ve seen it
Oh yeah? A long moment with nothing. Then: What do you think?
He caught a breath. The answer to that was: I think it’s my favorite picture. It did something pretty weird to me when I was fifteen?
But there was no way he could tell Dustin that. No way he could tell him the profound effect that picture had had on his life. Instead he just sent:
I like it.
Three dots came up, then disappeared, and then nothing happened for a long time. Finally, Dustin sent, Do you want another one?
Holy shit. More than anything. He sent, Yes.