Coming in First Place (Between the Teeth Book 1)

by Taylor Fitzpatrick

  There isn’t much to see of the neighbourhood, really. Jake drives past his elementary school, points out the high school his sisters graduated from, that he went to before he moved up to London for Juniors, shows David all the places he’d hang out as a kid, parks crowded with children out of school, a strip mall, waves wildly at the Detroit Zoo, even though he knows David doesn’t care for them.

  They get lunch at a chain restaurant David’s seen in almost every state and province he’s played in. David keeps a wary eye out to see if anyone recognises either of them. It’s mostly older couples and families with young children at that time of day, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t hockey fans, and it makes David and Jake stand out even more.

  He wonders if anyone is looking at them and assuming they’re on a date, or if they just look like friends. He doesn’t know if friends go out for meals like this. Hockey players tend to eat in groups of three or more, but David doesn’t know if that’s limited to hockey, or if that’s what men are supposed to do to avoid the appearance of — well, exactly what they’re doing.

  He doesn’t think he’d be this self-conscious if they were in Detroit proper, but Jake’s neighbourhood falls somewhere between the feeling of a suburb and the feeling of a small town, and David’s heard that small towns talk. He wants the anonymity of New York right now, Toronto. Even Sunrise, though it’s more of a suburb of Miami than a city in itself.

  He eats a salad, extra chicken, dressing on the side, while Jake works his way through a burger and fries. David doesn’t know how he stays in the shape he does, plays like he does, when he always seems to be eating something unhealthy. David doesn’t say that, of course. He wants to apologise for being a bad guest, but he doesn’t do that either.

  “Your family’s very nice,” he says in the end.

  “Yeah, they’re great,” Jake says. “They really like you.”

  Jake’s a bad liar. Even if he wasn’t, David doubts he’d believe him.

  “I hope so,” he says. He had hoped, coming here. It’s too late now. First impressions are very important, he knows that. His mother would tell him that every time she had to introduce him to someone new. First impressions are everything, and David knows he hasn’t made a good one.

  He fights the urge to apologise. He knows Jake would just tell him that there was nothing to be sorry about, and David doesn’t want Jake to lie to him again.

  Dinner is greasy delivery pizza eaten in front of another movie. They talk all the way through it again, but it’s one David watched with Jake earlier this summer, so at least he isn’t missing anything. They’ve all stopped trying to involve him in the conversation, even Jake, and David knows that’s probably a bad sign, but it’s still a relief. He doesn’t have the excuse of a travel day for the exhaustion he feels, so he holds out until Mr. and Mrs. Lourdes go to bed to make his excuses, retreat to the comparative safety of Jake’s room. Jake follows him up, like last night, but he doesn’t cross the threshold, just stands in the doorway to wish David good night.

  David sleeps poorly again. Takes first shower in the morning, but makes it quick so no one runs out of hot water. Eats cereal for the first time since he was a child, even though he knows it’s too late to fit in.

  Jake drives him to the airport. David looks out the window the whole way so he doesn’t have to look at Jake’s face, see whatever disappointment must be there.

  “Thanks for coming,” Jake says when they get to Departures. “Give me a call to let me know you got home safe?”

  “Okay,” David says, wondering if that’s something Jake actually wants him to do, or if he’s just saying that to be polite.

  He tries to sleep on the flight, should be able to, considering the fractured nights of sleep he’s had, but he can’t. No window to look out of this time, sitting in the aisle, so he just pages blankly through his phone, barely seeing it. He can imagine what the Lourdes are asking Jake now that David’s gone, ‘why do you even like him?’. It’s something David has wondered himself. Jake could probably pick anyone, and for some reason he chose David.

  David knows he’s — he knows he’s considered attractive, he’s heard it enough, both genuine and the ‘pretty boy’ he knows is meant as a barb, but Jake’s a millionaire at twenty, captain of his hockey team, talented, famous. He could have anyone, and he wouldn’t even have to hide it if he chose to date a girl. His family’s probably asking him why he’s wasting his time, and David doubts Jake has an answer. Not a good one, at any rate.

  David texts Jake when he lands. He’s still not sure Jake wants David to call, and even if he does, it isn’t appropriate to call him from the airport, the back of the cab he takes home. His phone buzzes in his pocket during the drive, but David waits to pull it out until he’s gotten inside, dropped his bags, sat down on his couch. It’s so quiet in his apartment.

  glad to hear talk soon? Jake has responded, and David wonders if that’s the last he’s going to hear from him for a while. He wouldn’t blame Jake if it was.

  Okay., David replies, and then puts his phone on the coffee table, shuts his eyes. It doesn’t buzz again. He wasn’t expecting it to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  David trains hard the next day. He feels off, detached from his body, and three straight days off, poor sleep, an unfamiliar bed, they all contribute to it, he’s sure, but they’re not an excuse.

  “Get out of your head,” his trainer tells him, and he tries, pushes himself until all he can focus on is his body trying to fight him, then pushes even harder, until it obeys him.

  He gets a clap on the back at the end of the day, a ‘good work’, and he manages to summon a smile.

  The smile has long since faded by the time he’s showered, changed. He checks his phone to see if Jake’s texted, even though he doesn’t expect to see anything. There is one, and he starts to smile again, unforced, but then he reads it.

  u left a sweatr here tryn to figure how to get it to you, Jake’s sent, and David recalls that in movies, television, when people break up, they collect their personal effects. Not that this is a movie. Not that they’re a couple, really.

  Returning David’s sweater is hardly time sensitive. David’s sure Jake could just wait until they next saw each other, but then, there certainly would be no good reason for Jake to show up after a game with an article of David’s clothing, and Jake might not want to see him anyway.

  His phone buzzes again.

  omg what is up with the bluejays? Jake’s texted, then, i wrote bjs to save time but it looked sooo dirty ur welcome

  David blinks. He doesn’t believe this is part of the standard protocol for cutting off contact.

  What about the Blue Jays? he responds after a moment.

  check the score!!!!!!! Jake replies immediately.

  He checks the Blue Jays score, and winces. 16-2 is not a score you often see in baseball, certainly not one you ever want to see, unless, he supposes, it’s your team with sixteen runs.

  Ouch., He texts, chewing his lip and trying to decide whether it’s an acceptable response, then sends it.

  i no rite??? Jake responds, and David exhales, starting to think that maybe he was mistaken.

  *

  He was. David doesn’t like to be wrong — he doubts anyone does — but for once, he’s grateful to be. Jake calls him the next day, and when David hangs up at the end of the call, phone hot in his hand, he’s surprised to see they talked for over an hour. He doesn’t even remember what they talked about, really — training, that Blue Jays loss, what David had for dinner. Little things. Certainly not anything that should take an hour.

  David goes to charge his phone, touches his ear where it’s sore from the phone pressed against it, as burning hot as a blush.

  A week before training camp is set to begin, David wakes up to a text from Jake, sent past midnight, asking if it’d be okay for him to come to New York for a few days before the start of training camp, and then, another an hour later, asking if he could stay with
David when he did. David wonders if the timing means Jake was drunk, the question one he’s already regretting. There’s no way to tell from the texts themselves.

  If Jake’s spelling and grammar get any worse when he’s drunk, well — David’s not actually sure that’s possible. If anything, they might be better.

  He doesn’t want to be too enthusiastic if it’s something Jake will renege on, but at the same time, he misses him. The phone calls have picked up steam, Jake calling a few times a week, and they never seem to talk about much, but David’s phone is always hot by the time they say goodbye. They text every day, and whenever David isn’t training, he keeps his phone close so he can respond as quickly as possible.

  But David misses him. He shouldn’t, considering how much they talk, but he does.

  If it wouldn’t be inconvenient for you., David lands on as a carefully neutral agreement. Obviously it won’t inconvenience Jake, since he’s the one suggesting it, but if he’s changed his mind, it gives him an excuse. He can make up another obligation, something that isn’t ‘sorry, I was drunk, I don’t actually want to come.’

  ill book a flight!!! Jake texts back almost immediately — he doesn’t seem to be concerned about sounding too eager, and David is embarrassed to find himself liking that — and sends rapidfire questions about best dates, times, which airport David would prefer he fly in to, so many David’s barely answered one text before he’s received another, and it doesn’t even take him ten minutes before he’s sending David a booking confirmation.

  Definitely not concerned about sounding too eager.

  David can’t stop smiling all day.

  *

  The day Jake’s set to arrive, David sets his alarm early, even though he doesn’t have training that day. David told his trainer he needed to take time off due to an unavoidable obligation, because it was the only way he could phrase it without it coming out like an outright lie. His trainer probably assumed it had something to do with the Islanders, which is fine. For the best.

  He cleans his apartment. It doesn’t take long — he’d often tidy up when he returned from training, especially if he was expecting a call from Jake that night. It helped the time pass more quickly. There are still hours to go before Jake takes off, let alone arrives, so David goes grocery shopping. It’s best to make sure his fridge is stocked. Maybe Jake plans on spending his time here sightseeing, will want to eat out for every meal, but David doesn’t think so.

  David stocks the fridge. He checks to make sure his apartment is immaculate — it is. Eventually, at loose ends, and with hours to go until Jake’s arrival, he goes to his building’s gym. The equipment is fairly standard, unspecialised, but David can cycle on the exercise bike until his legs are wobbly beneath him, which thankfully kills a little time. Jake’s texted him to let him know he’s boarded by the time David returns to his apartment, and he takes a longer shower than he’d usually indulge in, because otherwise he’s worried he’s going to spend the next several hours checking his phone every few minutes, time at a crawl.

  He makes lunch once he’s fixed his hair, shaved. Jake may have eaten on the plane, but food on commercial flights is barely edible. Once he’s finished, left it in the oven to rest, Jake’s landed, let him know he’s on his way.

  David checks his apartment one last time. Not immaculate anymore. He puts the dishes in the dishwasher, finds himself at the window, like if he looks Jake will suddenly appear. His window doesn’t even face the front doors of his building.

  David startles when his phone buzzes with a call from the front door like he wasn’t expecting it, buzzes Jake in, and then forces himself to stay in the living room so he isn’t standing right by the front door, too eager, when Jake knocks. He tries to take his time walking to the front hall when the knock comes, but he’s fairly sure his strides aren’t usually this long.

  Jake’s grinning at him when he opens the door, and David barely gets out a ‘hi’ before Jake’s walking in. David vaguely registers the sound of the door clicking shut behind Jake, which is good, because it’d probably be bad if someone walked down the hall and saw them, Jake’s mouth on his, hands in his hair, messing it up. David spent a long time on it today. He doesn’t mind at all.

  “Hi,” Jake says when he finally pulls back, mouth red wet, curled into a grin again. David wants to bite him. He doesn’t think that’s a normal response to someone’s smile.

  “I made us lunch,” David says dumbly.

  “You want to eat first?” Jake says.

  “No,” David says. “Um. That’s okay.”

  “Cool,” Jake says, and then neither of them are saying much of anything after that.

  *

  Jake’s time in New York seems to go by as quickly as Detroit dragged. They don’t leave David’s apartment. They don’t need to, thanks to David’s grocery trip, and when David reluctantly asks if Jake wants to go somewhere on the second day, figuring Jake might be going a little stir crazy, Jake’s dismissive of the idea. They eat, and sleep, and watch movies, and it’s so much like Toronto it aches a little, capturing something David thought was lost.

  It aches more when it’s their last night. They’re sitting on the couch, idly watching the Blue Jays trounce the Pirates, David tucked under Jake’s arm. David’s tired, but he doesn’t want to go to sleep yet, doesn’t want tomorrow morning to come.

  “Hey, before I leave,” Jake says, sounding uncharacteristically serious.

  “Hm?” David asks.

  “I want to talk about, like, us,” Jake says. He looks uncharacteristically serious too, when David meets his eye, but then he laughs.

  “Why are you laughing?” David asks.

  “You made this face like I said we should talk about, like, I dunno, eating ice cream for dinner or something. Like your worst nightmare.”

  “Eating ice cream for dinner isn’t my worst nightmare,” David says, though it is an objectively bad idea. “And I didn’t make a face.”

  “You totally did,” Jake says. “I know it’s like, not something you really want to talk about, but—”

  David can hardly deny that.

  “I just — we should talk about the season?” Jake says. “Like, I want to keep in touch, I don’t know if that’s something you want to do.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” David asks.

  “Does that mean you want to?” Jake asks.

  “I assumed we were,” David says. “Was I — do you not want to?”

  “I just said I did,” Jake says.

  “Oh,” David says. He mentally backtracks through the conversation, realises Jake had, in fact, said that. “I mean. Yes, I’d like to.”

  “Cool,” Jake says. “And like, would it be okay if we hung out after games and stuff? I’m going to be in New York for more than just the Isles games, you know? So it’d be like, pretty cool if we could see each other if I’m playing in Manhattan or Newark or something. Like. If you’re in town. The schedule’s kind of all over the place.”

  David doesn’t know if he means in general, or if he’s looked at the Islanders schedule specifically, compared it to the Panthers schedule, checking whether David would be in town when Jake came to play the Rangers, the Devils.

  “If I’m not busy, I don’t see that being a problem,” David says. Not that he anticipates being busy, but he doesn’t want to be too —

  “Awesome,” Jake says, obviously not similarly concerned. “That’s pretty much it. Not that painful, right? We want to keep doing this?”

  “Yeah,” David says, to both questions. When Jake said ‘talk about us’ he wasn’t expecting simple logistics. Simple logistics make sense.

  “Awesome,” Jake repeats. “Want to have ice cream for dinner?”

  David makes a face.

  “That’s the exact same face!” Jake says, and won’t stop laughing until David pulls away from him, standing up and marching out of the room.

  “No, come back!” he says, a thread of laughter still in his voice, and catche
s up with David in the hallway, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Your face is so great,” he mumbles into David’s ear.

  “Your face sucks,” David lies, and Jake laughs again, squeezing his arms around David until David goes breathless.

  “You like it okay,” Jake says, and David doesn’t have the air to argue, so he doesn’t, lets Jake spin him around, tilt his chin up with his thumb. Jake isn’t laughing anymore, not even smiling, but somehow David can see the amusement lingering on his face. David knows it isn’t at his expense, not really, but he still wants it gone, so he leans the rest of the way in, kisses Jake until all he can find in his expression is desire.

  “Bed?” Jake murmurs, and David nods, so close he can feel Jake’s eyelashes brush his cheek when he does, a pantomime of a kiss.

  “Bed,” David agrees, and lets Jake lead the way.

  *

  David wakes long before his alarm the next morning. Jake isn’t leaving until late afternoon, so David doesn’t wake him, even though he wants to, makes breakfast while he sleeps in, eating his own and leaving Jake’s in the oven to stay warm.

  Jake emerges after David’s showered, dressed, texted his trainer to confirm they’re on for tomorrow. Kurmazov has texted to ask if David wants to meet to discuss the upcoming season, and David agrees. Training camp has started to loom, and David hopes, so badly, that the Islanders will be more prepared for the season this year. David is, but there’s only so much he can do by himself.

  David checks the flight times while Jake eats breakfast. Well, it’s closer to brunch now. Jake’s flight is on time. David will privately admit to wishing there was a delay, maybe even a cancellation, though that would be inconvenient for Jake, who has to finish packing before he flies down to Sunrise for training camp.

  “Come shower with me,” Jake says, chin digging into David’s shoulder.

  “I already showered,” David says.