Break Away

by Van Barrett

  “Ow,” he grunted. He stumbled back and rubbed his cheek. “Okay, yeah. I deserve that too.”

  “Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning you knew?!”

  He frowned. “I don't know. I'm sorry. I should have. You're right. But I was too afraid. Too cowardly.”

  “Fuck, River.” Still pissed, I turned my eyes away. “Why the hell? Here I was thinking I was the reason you guys broke up all along --”

  “Ah.” A sneaky grin spread across River's face. “So you knew that letter was about me, too.”

  “Well.” I folded my arms and looked away. “I figured it out eventually.” I grumbled. “So tell me. Was it you who wrote this letter, River?”

  “What? No. That'd be even weirder. At least it's not that, I guess.” River chuckled. “It was Cass, dude.”

  “Explain.”

  “Cass wrote that letter. I saw it the day it was printed and I knew damn well it was from her. It was obviously written by her, and the way she wrote about me? That sucked for me to read, man. And it reinforced everything I was already thinking about us. That we didn't make sense. That we were like, two things that just did not together. Oil and vinegar. Not just me and Cass, but me and girls in general.”

  River paused.

  “And … your reply. It was just so right. I mean, you really nailed it. You gave her some helpful, thoughtful advice. I thought it was great, Lane. Ha, I even got my hopes up, thinking she might be inspired and listen to you, and all my doubts about us would magically be erased …” River trailed off and shook his head.

  “But she didn't, I'm guessing.”

  “Nope. You know the rest of the story anyway. She didn't even try to suck it, she just made me try it, and basically called me gay. Who knows? Maybe that was the first seed of doubt for me.”

  I tried to keep my frown from spreading too far. “River …”

  “Hey, it's okay. Believe me, I'm over all that. The worst part was that she wasn't even willing to try. 'Cause, you know, it's like what you said in your answer to her letter. That love between two people is supposed to be special. It's supposed to be as much about giving as it is receiving.”

  I nodded. “Yeah …”

  “And from my end, lemme tell you, that was nice to hear. I knew I wasn't crazy – that people who love each other should also want to please each other. And I was never pushy with her. It's just – ugh, it's whatever.” Frustrated, River almost gave up telling his story.

  I grabbed his meaty forearm and tugged gently. “It's okay. Keep talking.”

  “The point is, me and Cass broke up. And I couldn't stop thinking about that letter. I know you were just joking when you told her to pass along your phone number. But that turned me on so hard, dude. That, and the way you joked about how much you loved sucking dicks. And how you wanted mine …” River seemed to struggle for air. He adjusted his jeans – his leg room was apparently getting limited. “Ugh, just talking about it now – ha. Sorry. It uh, it kinda took over my thoughts. All I could think about was you. I had no idea who you were or what you looked like. But still, I was really, really turned on.”

  “Damn,” I grunted. I had to fend off the stirring in my pants, too.

  “I thought it'd go away eventually – it had to, right? Then, I spent the summer training. Then this school year started. I kept myself busy with class. Then hockey started … and as the season marched towards the end, and my college career went with it? I felt – I felt like I'd been missing out on something. And with each day that passed, it was like, I was running out of time. I wanted to stay in school all four years for a reason! To broaden my horizons, and try new things! And then I was just going to let this experience slip by me? Without leaving my comfort zone even once?”

  “So … that's when you arranged the assignment.” My voice lowered and hit a note of disappointment.

  “Yup. I met with Stan myself to make sure I got the right guy. You.”

  “Stan was in on it the whole time?”

  “Oh, yeah.” River grinned. “Me and Stan had an English class together, back in freshman year. Good guy.”

  “That fucker.” I made a stink-face. “So you never actually wanted the piece to be written? You had other motives. You just wanted to get head from a gay guy? Is that it?”

  River frowned. “That's … no, that's not it. It's hard to explain, Lane. But yesterday, when I read that piece you wrote? I realized, that's why I sought you out. Not because I just wanted head or whatever. It's more than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wanna be me. I wanna be comfortable in my own skin. I wanna do what I do and not be ashamed of who I am. I don't wanna go through life hiding who I am because I'm too afraid of what people will think. And what an opportunity I have to do it, man.”

  We both stared at each other during a silence.

  “Also. Don't think I went into it just hoping to get a blowjob from you. It's not like I wanted to be gay. In fact, if anything, I wanted to make sure I could resist you. That would mean I was straight, see.” River chuckled at the thought. “I didn't realize what a thrill it'd be, though. Every time I was near you. Every time I am near you. It's like all the air gets sucked out of me. And I'm just drawn closer to you. Like I can only breathe when I'm with you.”

  Sure enough, I felt us drifting towards each other.

  But River stopped and took a deep breath. “So, uh, like I said. I don't know if that gives you more ammunition against me or not. Maybe you'll think I'm a creepy stalker perv.”

  I bit my lip. “Don't forget mafia boss.”

  “Right.” River smiled. “That too.”

  “Well. If you're a creepy stalker perv. I'm not any better with the whole dildo picture thing.”

  River laughed. “I don't even care about it, dude. Fuck anyone who has a problem with it. Never was their business in the first place.”

  My eyes stayed locked on River's. “I agree.”

  “Good.”

  “So, – what now?” I asked.

  “Well …” River moved forward.

  My heart quickened as his hand went to my hip. I wasn't sure this was right, but I didn't fight it. His other hand cradled my head. He leaned in, and I met him half-way.

  I closed my eyes. Our lips touched. A rush of warmth ran through us, and we melted into each other. My palm went to his cheek, studded with sandpaper-grit stubble.

  Fuck. As great of a release it was to finally clear the air? We still obviously had huge questions. And I wasn't sure what feeling was supposed to be right, which emotion I was supposed to be feeling. I knew I still had the fear that this was ultimately doomed.

  But at least now, in the moment, all I knew was that my heart said yes. All my defenses, all the resentment, it all came crashing down in an instant.

  River pulled me closer. His tongue searched my lips, hoping I'd give him mine. Tenderly, I touched my tongue against his. The wet slither of two caressing tongues sent jolts of electricity tingling down my spine, and fireworks exploding behind my eyelids, when--

  Hooooooooonk!

  The bus' great fog-horn sounded.

  “Damn it,” River laughed, and we quickly separated.

  With River's arm around my shoulder, I turned and looked. The Fighting Hawks had seen everything. Some of them hung out from the bus' open windows. A few of them were crammed into the open doorway. And more than a couple of them had spilled out of the bus and onto the sidewalk – where they embraced in pairs, hands flying up and down each other's backs, caricatures of lovers embraced in a passionate kiss.

  “Oh lord.” I hid half my face in River's chest. His smell triggered a rush of memories, evoking such a powerful fondness from me, you'd think I hadn't seen him in years. “I take it they already know? I hope?”

  “Yup. They do.”

  “Wow, River. You really told them.”

  I put a hand over his stomach. Tracing my fingers over his t-shirt, I reminded myself of peaks and valleys of his carefully
-packed abs.

  “Why'd you tell them?” I asked.

  “Like I told you. I'm sick of running away.” River shrugged. “Listen. We gotta head to the airport or we'll miss the flight to Ohio.”

  “Okay …” I sighed. “Well, call me when you get back, I guess?”

  Parting now felt so anti-climactic. And unreal. I knew I'd spend the whole weekend wondering if this moment actually happened – and if it had, wondering how easily the sands might shift. A sour discontentment roiled in my belly: was this just life with River? One good moment, followed by a bad one? When would it ever end?

  “Better yet?” River grinned. “You can come with us.”

  “What.” I blurted out flatly. “What do you mean?”

  River started walking for the bus. He coaxed me to come with him.

  “I mean, I already told the boys. Coach actually asked me if you'd wanna come with us on the trip. I told 'em the truth: I said I'd play better if you did. From there, the rest came together pretty easily.”

  “But River …” I protested. “But are your teammates – would they really be okay with that?”

  River gestured towards the bus. I watched as Ochoa and Elliott 'made out' so passionately, Ochoa tumbled over backwards. Elliott grabbed Ochoa's legs, spread them, and … pretended to fuck him in missionary.

  “Oh God.” My hand went to my eyebrow. “That's cute, but uh, that's not helping, River.”

  “Hey!” River immediately yelled at them, his voice booming. “Fuckin' quit it, you idiots!”

  The boys jumped right up and ran into the bus.

  River gave me his eyes. “So? Will you come?”

  “I …”

  Hell. I couldn't find a reason why not.

  “Yeah, River. Let's do it.”

  51

  Never Long Enough

  – River –

  It was kinda hard for me to believe it, but Lane was really here. Right here, next to me on the team bus. With me and the boys.

  Okay, not right next to me – we sat in the front, with him on the left side of the aisle and me on the right. I was thankful that the boys were kind enough to allow me to bring Lane on the road trip, but I didn't want them to see us be all over each other or cuddly or anything.

  Because, honestly, I couldn't trust myself to keep my hands off him. I was so damned excited to get on that plane and land in Ohio where we could be alone for the night.

  The boys were great sports, though. They cheered for Lane when he got on the bus, and the jokes started being tossed around. Nothing offensive or over the line, mind you, just boys having fun – roasting me like they'd roast any other guy on the team who made it obvious how much he liked somebody. They loved the fact that Lane slapped me, too.

  And that was a good sign. Because it meant we were loosening up again as a team. After all the drama with Jono, we'd finally found our comfortable place again. Who knew that the problem was me all along? That it was my contract fiasco, my bottled-up problems that had created the bad vibes in the room.

  On the way to the airport, I told Lane exactly what had happened. I caught him up on all the stuff with Jono, for one. How we almost came to blows. How, even after I told Alan Rickert to shove it, I knew I could sign wherever I wanted – but I still felt eerily empty inside.

  I told Lane how I went home, and how I missed him so much that I dug his piece out of the trash can and finally read it. And wow, what a mistake it was to throw that thing away in the first place. I should've read it the first night he gave it to me. Might've helped calm me down and avoid a lot of bullshit.

  But anyway. After I read that, I called the Coach up and told him I had something to say. I wanted to clear the air finally. And so we called an emergency team meeting and we all gathered at the arena later that evening. And once we get everyone in there, and after I was done pacing back and forth to work up the courage, I told them exactly what the fight was about between me and Jono.

  And I told them how that fight was really just a symptom of another problem. Which was that I'd figured out I was into guys, and I'd been desperately trying to keep that a secret. But trying to keep that secret under wraps was doing me far more harm than if I just let it out.

  The boys didn't really react one way or the other. They just kinda shrugged and chuckled and said, well, whatever. A few of 'em cracked jokes about how it was obvious all along – or, as Ells put it,

  “River, you think you're telling us something we didn't already know?”

  … I guess you can only turn down so many 'stunning, I mean drop-dead gorgeous, perfect tens,' as Ells called them, before guys start wondering if maybe you skate for the other team. Can't say I was too amused by everyone acting like they knew this about me all along, since it took me years to figure it out for myself – but eh, whatever. Can't really fault Ells or anyone else for thinking it, and I know they only mean the best.

  And so, after telling the boys that, I felt a lot better. And it was Coach who had the idea that we find a way to get Lane to the game. Okay, so the normal team policy stated that the team could not make any travel accommodations for family members, friends or loved ones. But, there was a loophole: members of the media were welcome to travel with the team on special occasions. And Lane, of course, fit the bill. He was a member of the media and this was definitely a special occasion.

  But still. I didn't wanna force it on anybody. So I recommend that the team took a vote on it. I told the boys, if anyone had reservations, there'd be no hard feelings, just raise your hand. A single vote against, and I wouldn't bring Lane. We held the vote, and no one voted against. And from there, the rest was easy enough.

  The bus pulled into the airport. We jumped off and met Coach inside. He saw Lane and shook his hand.

  “Good to meet ya, kid.”

  “Oh, uh, you too,” Lane said. “Thanks for having me?”

  “It's our pleasure.”

  We boarded the plane. Lane took the window seat and I sat next to him. It was good to be closer to him. The plane was more private than the bus, somehow. Maybe it's the high pressure in the cabin, and that stuffy feeling in your head, but everyone kind of reverts into their own world.

  Which meant me and Lane were more alone than we had been in a while. And it was a small thrill to have our knees touch. Our thighs leaned against one another with the smallest of pressures. That gentle presence that says, “I'm here. With you.”

  But, again: hands off. Not here … not now … not yet.

  “I feel like my head's spinning. I can't believe this is really happening,” Lane laughed to himself as the plane hurried down the runway. The view outside his window turned at an angle as we lifted into the air. “Shit, I didn't tell Dev …! She'll be wondering where I'm at.”

  Lane turned to me with a mock expression of worry. “Um – I can tell her, right?”

  I gently elbowed him. “Yes. You may.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  ***

  The flight from Grand Forks to Ohio isn't even a long one, but it still felt excruciatingly long under the circumstances.

  First, as I said – hands off. Boyfriend, girlfriend, it doesn't matter – the boys don't wanna see PDA in any form when we're together as a team. That's just the code.

  Second, even with the hands off rule, me and Lane were absolutely teasing each other the whole flight. With just our legs, if you can believe that. Gently we rubbed our thighs together – a sweet, torturous friction that inspired a flash of naughty thoughts. The bulge in Lane's pants could attest to that – the bulge he desperately tried to cover with his in-flight magazine. So could the log that extended down the leg of my jeans.

  But even if someone were watching us, they wouldn't suspect a thing. In fact, it could have easily gone unnoticed if we were two strangers whose knees happened to touch on a cramped airplane.

  But we weren't two strangers. We were two guys who'd begun to know each other intimately. Two guys who, as badly as we wanted a pair of hot, s
wollen lips for ourselves, wanted to sucked each other off even more. Because nothing got me more excited than his hard warmth in my mouth, and all the other things I'd come to know and love: his taste. His heart-beat. The way he swelled up bigger and harder with growing excitement. His sounds of orgiastic pleasure. And, finally, my reward – the jet of liquid warmth bursting in my mouth.

  Uh. Ahem.

  And so, during that flight, our thighs slowly rubbed back and forth, grating against one another. Like glaciers slowly rubbing over the land and leaving rock-hard, chiseled formations in their wake.

  Yeah, I sure liked my geology class. And right now, while we flew towards Ohio for the biggest game of my life? With Lane at my side?

  All I could think was,

  I'm sure glad I stayed in school all four years.

  ***

  “Stop,” I whispered to Lane. The flight captain had told us we were about to make our final descent.

  “Stop what?” he whispered back with a devilish smirk.

  I nudged him with my elbow and discreetly pointed at the thick shape in my jeans that traveled half-way down my thigh. “Seriously …”

  Lane swallowed with a look of helplessness. He licked his lips. “Uh. So … what's the plan?”

  I grinned. I knew what he meant: when will we be alone?

  “You'll see soon enough,” I whispered. “As long as you stop rubbing against me, anyway. I can't walk through the airport with a bulge like this in my pants, man.”

  “Okay. Okay. Fair enough.”

  Eagerly, we watched out the window as the plane descended and the ground neared. The plane's tires kissed the runway, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. We were one step closer to being alone.

  A shuttle picked us up from the airport and took us to our hotel. Lane didn't ask what his accommodations were. I figured he already knew.

  After a short ride, we arrived at the airport. The team checked in and we got our keys.

  Lane followed me up to our room. I shut the door gently and turned around – and Lane threw himself into me. I stumbled back, taking Lane with me, and my back gently bumped the hotel door with a solid thud.