“Gay? I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if I am or not. Not I don’t know if you can ask me. You can ask me whatever.” Riley took a drink of his Coke, which was the only thing Lane had ever seen him drink besides coconut water.
“You don’t know?” Lane told himself he shouldn’t offer to make out with Riley to see if he liked it. Not without checking with Jared first.
“Nope. I mean, I don’t think I’m
not
gay?”
“You’re bisexual?”
Riley’s dark eyes seemed to light up. “That’d be the best, really. Don’t you think? I don’t know about that, though.”
“Do you like girls?” Lane was starting to wonder where the conversation was going. Maybe this was how people felt when they were talking with him. Huh.
“Yes! I like the ones I’ve been with, but it’s not that many. I don’t know about guys, because I’ve never made out with any of them or anything. So I can’t say I’m not, but I can’t say I am either.” Riley picked up his controller. “Do you want to keep playing?”
Lane was lost in his own thoughts, some of which included making out with Riley and others that told him to stop thinking that at all.
I just want to help out a teammate.
“Do you know how weird that sounds? I mean, sorry man, but it’s like… I’ve never heard anyone just say ‘Oh. Maybe I’m gay. I’ll just have to wait and see.’”
Riley shrugged. He didn’t appear bothered in the least. “Well, now you have.”
“Now I have,” Lane agreed and picked up his controller. “Can we start over? You unfairly distracted me.”
“No. Suck it up,” Riley chirped, but he smiled as he unpaused their game. “You can tell me about your boyfriend, if you want. Especially if you want to tell me how he shoots the puck, because I hate getting scored on, and he got a
hat trick
on me.”
“First I thought the team wanted you to do recon to find out if I was gay or not, and now I think you just want inside information on the enemy.” Lane settled back against the couch. “You’re sneaky, Hunter.”
“Recon? This isn’t
Call of Duty
, Courts. I was just curious. And you know, most of the guys are Canadian. And isn’t that legal in Canada? Being gay?”
“It’s legal here. Do you mean gay marriage? That’s legal in Canada. Yeah.”
“So there you go.” Riley slid over while he pressed the controls, as if he were physically required to do so in order to block a shot.
“A lot of people think it’s different when it’s someone they know,” Lane said quietly, unsure why he was still talking about it. “And you’re not Canadian. Right? You actually sing along during the American anthem before games.”
“Yeah. I’m American. I’m from Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“Wyoming?” Lane never imagined people from Wyoming played hockey. “Do they even
have
hockey there?”
“Yeah. Obviously.” Riley made another save that sent him half sprawling across Lane. He didn’t apologize, just righted himself and went on playing. Lane might have thought he was making a pass at him if Riley hadn’t been doing that same thing for the whole game. Well, maybe not. He was sort of dense. Zoe was right about that.
“And you’ve been here three years. Right?”
“Two. I mean, this is my third. I might have a tryout with the Crunch if we win the championship.”
“Really? That’s awesome.” Lane grinned. “If we went up together, we could get an apartment.”
“That’d be cool. Living alone is boring sometimes.”
Riley should live with Ryan for a week or two, and he might not be so quick to say that. “Who was your roommate last year?”
“No one. I’ve never had one.” Suddenly Riley looked a little apprehensive. He glanced twice at Lane and almost let in another goal. “You’re gay, and I’m rich.”
“What?” Lane laughed, thinking he was kidding. “You’re rich? There’s a choice between
gay
and
rich
? When did you make that? I don’t remember being given the options.”
Now
Riley
paused the game. “No. I mean, if that’s your secret or whatever, then that one’s mine.”
“Okay, Hunter? You’re cool, and I can’t tell you how awesome it is to know you don’t care that I like guys, but I kind of want to punch you for thinking it’s the same thing.”
“I’ve seen you throw a punch, Courts. That’s not really a threat. And you say that, and I don’t think it’s the
same
. No. Of course not. But it’s still my secret, like that one’s yours.”
“I just don’t get why that’s a secret, though,” Lane prodded, vaguely aware he was being as nosy as he’d been afraid Riley would be about Jared.
“Then you’ve never had people telling you that your parents bought you a spot on the team or any of that shit.” Riley was staring at the screen but the game was on pause. He had the same expression on his face that he did in goal.
“But you’re a really good goalie.” Lane was trying to put himself in Riley’s shoes. It was hard because he kept thinking about how much he’d like to have a car and his own apartment. And speaking of shoes, some new ones to go running on the beach in.
“Thanks.”
“I don’t care that you’re rich,” Lane told him seriously. “I won’t even ask to borrow money.”
Riley did turn and grin at him for that. “You can, though. I have enough.”
“Like how rich is
rich
?”
“Like my family owns our own plane,” Riley answered almost grimly.
“Do they own, like, the company that makes Coke? Or that coconut water you’re always drinking?” That seemed like a reasonable guess to Lane.
“I wish. Nothing that interesting. Can we not talk about it?”
It was so
weird
to Lane, but he nodded because he always tried to be accommodating when people asked to not talk about things. “Sure, man. That’s cool. Thanks for telling me. Also, I’ll never be able to ask you for money. I’m Canadian, and that would be like asking… well… for money.”
“That’s the problem. People I’d be happy to give money to are the ones who’d never ask.” Riley sighed. “Did your parents go to your hockey games, growing up?”
“Riley, I’m
Canadian
.”
“Right. Mine didn’t. They had me dropped off by the driver. He liked hockey. Sometimes he’d watch—in his chauffeur’s uniform.” Riley missed a shot by Lane’s team, and swore under his breath. “Don’t tell your boyfriend to make comments about my parents, though, or I’ll be really mad.”
“I wouldn’t even
think
to do that.” Were people that awful? “I mean, if he makes a crack about your parents, it won’t be that they’re rich. It’ll probably be that he’s sleeping with one of them.”
Riley snorted. “I doubt that. They’re pretty boring.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“An older brother who went into business with my dad. He played baseball, but stopped after high school to concentrate on being a businessman.”
“What’s that mean? Like, what do you do?”
“Study math and computers and things? I don’t know.” Riley sighed as Lane scored again. “I have a younger sister, too. She’s probably just going to marry someone rich and have kids. Does anyone else on the team know about Jared? Does Ryan? He’s from Canada. I bet he wouldn’t care.”
“Sometimes people think that just because you’re gay, you want to sleep with everyone.” Lane put his controller down as the game ended. He won by two goals. It was nine to seven, which showed they really weren’t paying attention. Again, reasons why feelings were horrible. “I just don’t want Ryan to think that I’m hitting on him all the time, because of that.”
“Ryan’s straight, and I’m pretty sure he wants to try and sleep with every girl—ever—though,” Riley said, standing up. He was about Lane’s height and all legs. “So he should at least understand that. Would you sleep with him?” Riley raised his eyebrows.
“Are we going to play the ‘tell me who’d you sleep with on our team’ game?”
“Yes. Can we?”
Lane laughed and shook his head. “No. Please. Let’s not. Besides, I have a boyfriend. Remember?”
“Right.” Riley looked a little disappointed, then opened the fridge. Lane had just taken a sip of his own soft drink and nearly spewed it everywhere. The entire top shelf was filled with little boxes of coconut water.
“Do you ever drink just plain, actual water?”
“Hmm? Oh. Sure. That’s usually what I have in my water bottle. I drink this because I saw Brodeur drinks it. And you know, I didn’t like it at first, but I kept drinking it, and we kept winning. I didn’t drink two before those games in Savannah, and look what happened. Although I think you gave those guys an edge because of sex magic.”
Every single goalie Lane had ever played with was weird. None of them mentioned sex magic, though. “You should probably drink two before the next game, just to be sure.”
Riley’s look clearly said Lane was an idiot for assuming that he wasn’t doing that already.
Riley took him home after a few more games. Before Lane got out of the car in front of his apartment building, he asked, “Hey, Riley, what are you always talking about when you’re in goal?”
“What do you mean?”
“You talk to yourself. What are you saying?”
Riley laughed. “That’s funny, Lane. I don’t talk to myself. See you at practice.”
Riley drove off and left Lane standing in the parking lot, staring after his little Mazda sports car, and saying, “But you
do
talk to yourself” to absolutely no one—which might have been ironic or might have been just plain old crazy.
On his way up to his apartment, he noticed a familiar car—Zoe’s, with the Georgia plates and the Sea Storm bumper sticker—parked in the visitor’s spot. Lane wondered if they were supposed to do something and he messed up and forgot when he went to Riley’s. He wasn’t used to having one friend, let alone two.
It wasn’t like Zoe to come to his place, though. She thought they were messy. And that was probably true, but she had weird ideas about keeping things clean. She didn’t have a stack of boxes or cans in her kitchen, and her bathroom was so clean, it was like a hotel. Lane had no idea why that never translated to her car.
When he let himself into his apartment, he thought he’d find her playing video games or maybe in his room, which he hoped fervently was not where she was. It was a mess in a way that involved lube on his dresser and possibly his laptop opened up to a chat log or two with Jared.
But Zoe wasn’t playing video games, and she wasn’t in his room—thank God—and he was starting to think maybe she wasn’t there at all. Then he heard noises from his roommate’s room. A soft, very feminine exclamation and Ryan’s low laugh. Apparently Zoe had taken his suggestion, after all.
Lane closed his door, locked it, and sat on his bed. He felt weird—hot and flushed and sort of jealous. Though, when she made louder sounds, he just felt pleased that she was having a good time. He looked at the bottle of lube on the dresser, picked it up, and lay back on his bed.
He unzipped his jeans, and picked up the phone.
is it weird to get off listening to my roommate have sex with a girl?
Jared’s text came back a few minutes later.
havent you done that like a million times?
not when its zoe.
really? do you want to go join them?
Did Jared think Lane could pull that off without ruining the moment for everyone?
do u want me 2?
It took Jared a long time to answer, and by that point, Lane had already started stroking his cock, because he couldn’t
not
. It almost seemed rude not to.
i have to go we have a game. i trust you, do what you want. just tell me about it later.
A warm happy feeling surged through Lane. Some of it might have been because he was jacking off, but it was also nice to read that.
just gonna listen. talk 2 u l8r.
Jared responded with
ok
and then
stop using text speak
, and followed with a smiley face. At that point, Lane wasn’t sure what he was getting off on—hearing his roommate fuck his best friend, or having his boyfriend use an emoticon in a text message.
What is this? Honestly, life is so weird.
When he heard the sound of someone being smacked, he stopped, went cold, and sat straight up in his bed. He wondered how you rescued someone when you had an obvious erection. Because, oh, hell, no. Ryan did not just hit Zoe. She was like his fucking sister—
—though he got off listening to her have sex. But that wasn’t the point.
Then he heard the noise again, and a moan—male—followed by a delighted feminine laugh. Oh.
Zoe
was doing the smacking. Fine. That was different. That wasn’t the same at all. It was also what got him off. Imagining Ryan’s face, all red from being slapped, was hot. Hearing Zoe moaning was hot. And thinking about Jared being there, listening with him and fucking him with his hand over Lane’s mouth, saying, “Be quiet, Lane, let me,” was the hottest thing of all.
THEY ONLY
had a few days off for Christmas, and, as Zoe was obligated to visit her parents in Georgia, Lane convinced her to give him a ride to Savannah.
She agreed, but insisted on meeting Jared and having dinner with the two of them. “Gotta make sure this guy is good enough for you, Laney,” she told him.
Before they left, she told him to wait in the living room, ran into her bedroom, and then jumped back out with her arms in the air. “Ta da. Look what I got myself for Christmas.”
She was wearing a Sea Storm jersey. Lane grinned, because that was awesome and he still couldn’t help but laugh at that logo. That water-tornado thing was just so
angry
, as if it hated the puck and didn’t want anything to do with hockey. Which, given the history of southern hockey teams, might be true.
But he didn’t laugh when she said, “And look whose number I got,” and turned around to show him. Because she had on
his jersey
, and he didn’t even know what to say.
So he said something dumb, as he usually did when he didn’t know what to say. “I could have given you one of mine.”