Hat Trick

by Eden Finley

  Then another.

  Then a guy came up to us. “You’re Roman Josi!”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Nice to meet you.” Soren held out his hand to shake.

  It was the guy’s turn to fanboy over the hotness of Soren. “Whoa, this is so cool.” Then he spotted me. “Hey, you were onstage!”

  “Yup.”

  “Cool. So cool.”

  Soren chatted to the guy about hockey, but I was still confused.

  The fan got a pen off the bartender and asked Soren to sign his shirt.

  Finally, after he left, I leaned in. “Who’s Roman Josi?”

  Soren grinned. “He plays for Tennessee. We get mixed up all the time because we apparently look alike. I don’t see it.”

  “You just sign someone else’s name?”

  “Nah, I wrote ‘I’m not Roman Josi’ and then signed my name and team underneath it.”

  “Brilliant.” I took out my phone. “I so have to Google this.” As soon as the image popped up, my eyes widened. “Damn, there’s two of you. That’s too much for my brain to handle.” And my cock, but I didn’t say that aloud. “Please tell me he’s gay too. No, wait, don’t. I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

  “Sorry. Still only Ollie and me on team gay so far in the league.”

  “Shame.”

  “Hey.” Another guy approached.

  This time, I didn’t know who he was approaching. Me or Mr. Hockey. It became obvious when he leaned closer to me, pressing his side against mine.

  Hello, personal space boundaries.

  Although the scowl on Soren’s face was a nice consequence.

  “I read somewhere you’re gay,” the guy said.

  “I am, but sorry, you’re not my type.”

  He cocked his head.

  “I prefer guys who can’t read.”

  He laughed. Any other night, I would’ve been all over him. He was tall, cute, and scruffy. Definitely my actual type.

  But, Soren.

  The random guy pressed in closer. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “He’s good,” Soren growled.

  I kinda loved it.

  The guy glanced between the two of us and then backed away with his hands up. “Worth a shot.”

  I threw back the rest of my drink. “Can we go somewhere neither of us could be recognized?”

  Soren stood. “Let’s go.”

  We were stopped another handful of times, me more so than Soren, but I wasn’t counting … much.

  It was surreal to be next to Soren again. Last time I’d seen him, I was talking about becoming famous, and now I was being recognized by people in a bar.

  Finally, after months of being exhausted and thinking about how shitty touring was, I saw the payoff. I could not only see how far I’d come but could feel it.

  “We should go dancing,” I said as we hit the warm Tampa air.

  “Or we could go coffeeing.”

  “Compromise. Dancing then coffee.”

  Soren groaned.

  “Come on, old man. Not up for it?”

  “Don’t call me old man.”

  “Big Daddy?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Roman Josi …”

  Soren shoved me, and I laughed. It was easy to find my laugh with him. I was used to playing the goofball card, trying to pull everyone into my madness. The truth was, my outlandish personality was my armor—something I needed to protect the inner broody artist I tried to tame.

  Like that night last year in the club, Soren let me breathe easy and just … be.

  I didn’t have to think of the quips coming out my mouth. They fell out on their own.

  “Okay. Compromise, eh? Dancing and then coffee. You’re not getting out of talking about the tour. I want to hear everything.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, first, does that happen often?” He glanced back in the direction of the club. “Groupies? Drugs?”

  I held in my eye roll but barely. “It’s the music industry. What do you think?”

  “I think I … uh, your brother wouldn’t like it.”

  “My brother, huh? You gonna tell him?”

  “Do I need to?”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t worry him, and I’m not being stupid about it. I barely partake, and when I do, I refrain from getting stupid.”

  “Oh, well then. As long as you’re being smart about doing drugs.” There was an edge to Soren’s tone, and it made me want to slap him, but I wasn’t going to let his stupid big brother act ruin tonight. He had no right to play it with me.

  Instead of pushing the issue and bringing down the mood, I deflected. “I am. I’m super smart.”

  “Pretty sure that’s what dumb people say.”

  “Whatever. We went past a bar with a rainbow flag on our way to the venue earlier today. We should find that.”

  Tension coiled around us, the spell cast between us last year cracking.

  I knew after he found out I was Matt’s little brother he’d treat me differently.

  We walked the few blocks in silence, and he must’ve sensed how pissed I was because, before I could cross the threshold to the gay bar, Soren pulled me back.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place, and I overstepped.”

  “Good. Now let’s go have fun. I haven’t had real fun in forever.” Probably since the last time I was with Soren.

  Flying to L.A. and recording for the first time in a real-life studio was amazing. It gave me a high that followed me all the way through our first few months of touring, but I wouldn’t call that fun. Awesome, fucking insane, and brilliant, but not fun. The constant threat of not making it and the label dropping us made it not fun.

  Perhaps because Soren was my first ever fan or because he was a piece of home or maybe it was a combination of it all, I wanted to make this night last and hold on to it to get me through the next few months. Just like our last night together had.

  I led Soren straight to the dance floor and pulled him close. His big body wrapped around me, his arms on my waist, my head on his shoulder.

  We moved and danced to the beat, getting lost in some pop song.

  Soren’s hand trailed over my back as we ground against each other. His thick thigh was between mine, his breath on my skin, and my cock begged for more.

  I wanted to touch him everywhere. Kiss him. Take him back to my hotel room and fuck him. But I also wanted to stay in this moment.

  My body was eager, and anticipation kept building.

  Hot, sweaty men moved around us, bumping us and pushing us closer together.

  Soren’s normally clean-shaven face was covered with a beard that hadn’t yet softened, so it scraped along my skin.

  I pulled back and ran my hand over his cheek. Ollie was the same during the playoffs. “You hockey players and your superstitions.”

  “It’s the playoffs.”

  “Mmhmm … You didn’t have that last year.”

  “Yeah, and we lost the Cup. Not gonna let that happen again.” His lips twitched.

  Our eyes locked, my hand still stroking his beard.

  The air became thick.

  “Jet.” Soren swallowed.

  I took my shot, angling my head. Inch by inch, my mouth moved closer.

  I wanted to feel his kiss and the strong way his tongue dominated mine like it had the year before.

  The club, the music, and the people around us faded into a haze.

  Expectations of his lips meeting mine smashed into a pile on the floor when Soren stepped back.

  “Let’s go get that coffee.”

  It took a second for my brain to trip on the rejection.

  Soren hightailed it to the exit. I was slower to follow because I had no idea what just happened.

  When we hit the street again, I had to scramble to catch up to him. And when I did, he stopped and turned to face me. He looked the same way he did a year ago when he’d thought my song wasn’t rea
l.

  That’s when I realized it wasn’t going to happen between us.

  Why the fuck did he show up tonight?

  He didn’t say anything and started walking again, his feet working double-time up the sidewalk.

  “What was that?” I yelled after him because there was no way I could keep pace.

  He stopped and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

  “Why did you?”

  He threw his arms wide. “I don’t know. I thought … I thought I could go and see you play and not get caught up in it. In you. I thought I could sneak away and you wouldn’t even be able to see me under the stage lights, but as soon as you opened with that song, I knew. I knew you’d spotted me. I wasn’t going to talk to you or go backstage, but—”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m … I have …” Soren’s phone went off, and he dug it out of his pocket. With an apologetic look my way, he turned away from me as he answered. “Hey, babe.”

  It was like a sucker punch to the nuts.

  Soren glanced back at me and lowered his voice, but I still heard his exact words. “My friend’s little brother is in town, so we met up, but I’ll be going back to the hotel soon.”

  Friend’s little brother. I’d heard enough. I turned on my heel and headed for the venue where Benji and Freya would still be.

  “Jet, wait up.” Loud footsteps sounded behind me, and I told myself to keep walking, but I didn’t.

  “What the fuck, Soren?”

  “I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

  I waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

  Soren took his hat off and rubbed a hand through his thick hair.

  “Great explanation.” I turned again.

  “I’m all wrong for you.”

  I froze and stared at him over my shoulder. “What?”

  His hands gripped my shoulders and spun me to face him. “You’re … you’re amazing, Jet. You’re inspiring and lively and … young.”

  He said young like it was the worst thing in the world to be.

  “That’s your issue? The age thing? You’re thirty-one.” I knew because I’d Googled. Ten years between us. That was nothing. “That’s not old.”

  “You’re at the point in your life where you should be doing young and dumb shit—”

  “As long as it doesn’t include groupies and drugs,” I said dryly.

  “That groupie only wanted one thing.”

  “Duh. That’s the definition of groupie.”

  “You deserve better.”

  “Lord, here we go. More big brother shit? Really?”

  Soren shook his head. “Sorry. Again, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s your life. I know how hard you’ve worked to be where you are. I have no right to butt in.”

  I folded my arms. “No, you don’t.”

  “For one night, I loved being a part of your world, and since then, I’ve watched you live your dream. Every performance, every song … you belong on that stage.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Caleb Sorensen, have you been following me on social media?”

  He stepped closer. “Every. Fucking. Show. Every interview. Anything I can find online.”

  Our chests pressed together, Soren breathed hard, and I had no clue which way was up anymore.

  “But you have a boyfriend.”

  “I’m at the point in my life where I’m talking mortgages and settling down. You’re partying and touring and living the rock star life. The life you deserve.”

  He had a point. Boyfriend aside, if he was single and we hooked up tonight, that was all it could be again.

  “Go back to your hat trick boyfriend, Caleb.”

  Soren took hold of my hand. “No, wait, don’t leave it like this.”

  “Like what?”

  Soren needed to fuck off back to Jersey with his perfect boyfriend and mortgage.

  “I want you to promise me something,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I want you to find someone who will love you for the guy I know. The one who fanboyed over his first fanboy. Or fanman in your words.”

  I chuckled.

  “That guy deserves someone as awesome as he is. So, go out and do stupid shit, but do it with someone special. Okay?”

  Why? Why did he have to come tonight and fuck up my memory of him with logic?

  “You’re perfect, Jet.”

  Right. That was why he was rejecting me.

  “Yeah. Perfect for someone else. Got it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Soren

  My feet pound the path around our private Fijian island. Reliving that night in Tampa makes me want to run as fast as possible. Run away from the memory and from my stupidity.

  I should’ve told him as soon as I saw him that night. Oh, by the way, I’m with Bryce. But no, I wanted to spend time with him. Plus, who says, “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a year, you know, since the last time we fucked, but I’m seeing someone now. I just wanted to get that out of the way.”

  Still, I should’ve played that night differently. I shouldn’t have danced with him, and I shouldn’t have flirted. I definitely shouldn’t have acted like a jealous asshole with that guy at the bar. Maybe I should’ve walked away after his show and not seen him at all.

  Because even though it’s been two years, he’s still mad at me.

  Worse than that, when I asked him if he’d done what I’d asked of him, he’d said yes.

  He fell in love.

  That thought makes me push harder and tell my thirty-three-year-old knees to take the pain and just run.

  I should be happy for him. He got to share his last couple of years with someone special, which is what I wanted for him. Only now I can’t remember why I wanted that when it makes something go wrong in my chest. I don’t like the thought of him with someone else even though it was never an option to be with me.

  Hello, selfish asshole.

  I was too wrapped up and determined to make it work with Bryce to see how anything with the young, vibrant musician could happen. And nothing has changed in that regard. Jet’s still young and vibrant, and we’re both still on the road for most of the year.

  Making the wrong choice by staying with Bryce back then still doesn’t mean hooking up with Jet would’ve been the right choice.

  While Jet was the man who inspired me to come out, I did it for Bryce. I stupidly thought that meant I had to make it work between us. It’s why I told myself to forget about the rock star and have avoided him since that night in Tampa.

  We can say how much our schedules have clashed which is why we’ve never seen each other since then, but the truth is, when he’s been in New York, I made sure Bryce and I were too busy to catch up with the guys. Then again, most times Jet came home fell while my team was at away games, and I have to wonder if Jet’s been avoiding me as much as I have him.

  Now he’s here, I don’t want to avoid him. I don’t want to stay away, and I have no reason to anymore, other than the guys will kick my ass. But for Jet, an ass-kicking might be worth it.

  Unless …

  I stop in my tracks.

  Unless he’s still in love.

  Maybe he’s the one with the boyfriend now.

  Well, isn’t that a jagged little pill. It would be karma in its finest form.

  I have to know if that’s the case. Spinning on my heel, I cut through the unpaved trail instead of following the path any longer.

  I need to know if there’s hope.

  The island is small, only a few miles trek around the whole thing. It only takes me twenty minutes to walk back to our cabins. But as I climb the steps to Jet’s, I pause at the sound of his brother’s voice.

  “We’re telling the other guys tonight, but we wanted you to know first.”

  “A baby? I’m gonna be an uncle? Wait … Noah’s going to be a dad? To a baby … like, a baby and Wade? I don’t know which is scarier, really.” Jet’s excited energy is palpable from here, and even I know not
to intrude on that.

  “Ha, ha, sooo funny,” Noah says.

  Matt and Noah are going to be parents. I knew about Wade, the youngest Jackson brother, but a baby too?

  Unwilling to break up their family moment, I trudge back to my cabin and decide I need a shower. A cold one. Because dredging up all this stuff with Jet has our one night together running through my head on a loop.

  His eagerness, that smirk under hungry eyes, the way he rode my dick until I couldn’t take it anymore and rolled us over so I could take him as hard and fast as I needed to. I can still picture the face he made as he came all over his stomach and chest.

  Yep, definitely need a cold shower.

  Maybe that’ll snap me out of the ridiculous notion that I have any chance at a do-over with him because he’s not interested. He doesn’t seem to even want to spend time with me as a friend.

  After a shower, I dress in board shorts and a T-shirt and head to the dining hut for breakfast.

  Talon and Miller are the only ones there.

  “Everyone still sleeping?” I ask, knowing full well at least three of the others are up.

  “Matt and Noah are spending the day catching up with little bro,” Talon says. “Maddox and Damon started their hike early and have already left, and I think your boy and Lennon are still in bed.”

  I freeze until I realize he’s talking about Ollie. Not Jet.

  Brain needs coffee.

  I pour a large cup and pile my plate high with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes with a side of maple syrup. And by a side, I mean a gallon of it; I’m Canadian.

  “We’re heading out wakeboarding in ten if you want to join us,” Miller says.

  It’s either that or wander around aimlessly all day wondering when I’ll be able to sneak past Matt and Noah to talk to Jet again. “Yeah, okay, I’ll go.”

  I thought I’d spend this vacation cursing Bryce and wallowing over our failed relationship and my bleak career. Nope. Turns out I’ll be spending it pining over a memory I thought I’d already put behind me.

  Wakeboarding is fucking killer, but after a day on the water, the sun is setting, the wind and swell are picking up, and Miller’s starting to look green around the gills.

  He was fine in the small inlet with calm water Joni took us to, but he never got off the boat—only Talon and I ended up wakeboarding. Maybe the whole day sitting on the rocking boat and the rougher water on the way back to our island is too much for Miller to handle.