by Lily Harlem
A ripple of heated irritation weaved up my spine. “There’s nothing to tell. It was nothing. A one-night stand, that’s all.”
“Bullshit,” Joel said, folding his arms and pursing his lips.
“You think we’re stupid or something?” Raymond asked, sloshing back a big gulp of wine. “You’re the world’s biggest hater of one-night stands.”
“So I changed my mind. Maybe I met someone with a tush to die for.” I reached for the scarf, pulling it from Raymond’s neck and dropping it on my lap. I didn’t want Raymond’s spicy cologne on it.
“Except lately,” Gareth said, pressing his index finger against his temple, “you’ve had a sparkle in your eye when you’ve talked about a certain hockey player.”
I knocked down a huge mouthful of beer. So huge I nearly started spluttering. Joel leaned forward, looked into my eyes.
I scowled and stared past Gareth’s shoulder out the window at the cabs rushing past and the people scurrying here and there.
“It is, isn’t it? I’m right,” Gareth said. “That hot-as-fuck Todd Pretty Carty did that to you. He’s gay as a maypole, isn’t he?”
I glanced quickly around at the other customers. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarled.
Gareth held up his palms. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Clearly I’m right, though.”
I clenched my jaw as an image of Todd swirled in front of me. Hearing his name had my heart beating faster and my breath catching.
Raymond rested a hand on my shoulder. I thought about shaking it off, but only for a split second. These guys were my mates. I’d needed them when things went wrong. It was only fair to let them into my life now things were taking an upward turn.
“You can’t say anything,” I said, “to anyone. Have you any idea how huge this is? What kind of media circus it could start?”
“Of course we won’t say anything,” Raymond said with a pout.
“Promise?”
“Yeah, we promise. Come on, Matthew,” Joel said. “We care about you. We want to see you happy and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
I managed a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”
“But of course if he wants to talk to the press then I’m journalist numero uno. Don’t forget that.”
“Joel!” I said through gritted teeth.
He held up his palms. “I’m just saying. I know how to handle these things.”
Gareth reached forward and rested his hand on my arm. “No one is going to say anything or write anything.” He frowned at Joel. “So come on, tell us what the hell is going on.”
I swung my gaze around again. The place was half full but no one was taking any notice of us, perched at our end of the bar. “Okay, so something happened between Todd and I. But not as much as your dirty minds think.”
I told them about how Todd and I had sparked a friendship while I’d been taking his Armani shots. Eaten out together, visited each other’s apartments, sat up late chatting and looking at pictures, and finally he’d said he liked me and he’d been battling with his attraction to guys for years.
“You lucky bastard.” Raymond sighed with a wistful shake of his head. “He’s on my list of top five athletes I’d fuck.”
I rolled my eyes in despair. “Well, we haven’t. Fucked, that is.”
“No? So how did that happen?” Joel asked, pointing at my hickey.
I shrugged and gestured for him to reach me another beer. “Things just got a bit heated this morning in my kitchen.”
“So he stayed the night then?” Gareth asked.
“No, he’d just flown in from L.A. and wanted to see me. Came straight from the airport to my apartment.”
“Ah, sweet,” Raymond said, flattening his palms on his cheeks and tilting his head. “He’d missed you.”
I smiled, a big grin that I could feel stretching my face. “Yeah, he had. A lot.”
Gareth squeezed my shoulder. “I’m happy for you.” He pulled his eyebrows low and a line creased between them. “But, hot-shot hockey star or not, if he hurts you, screws you or dumps you the way that son of a bitch Tony did, then he’ll have us to answer to, and afterwards, I can guarantee he won’t look so damn pretty.”
Chapter Six
Todd was twenty minutes late buzzing for me that evening. I hadn’t started to panic, just kept calm, flicked through my latest copy of Photography Expert and lost myself in an article on underwater lighting.
“Sorry,” he said when I met him at the bottom of the stairs—the elevator was still out of order. “We should swap cell numbers. I hit snooze one time too many. I’ve been asleep for hours.”
“Sure,” I said, taking his offered iPhone. Swapping numbers was a great step forward. Before when I’d wanted to contact him I’d had to go through Armani, who went through his agent to set up times for each shoot. This would make it feel as though we were properly connected. In each other’s lives. “You still want to go out or shall we chill?”
“Out is cool. I’m just not good at changing time zones, never have been, never will be.” He shrugged and dropped his cell into his jacket pocket. “I need a certain amount of sleep and if I don’t get it I feel shit.”
We pushed out the revolving doors of my building onto the street. It was dark and there was drizzle in the air that dampened my cheeks and cooled my scalp. Todd pulled on a Yankees cap, flicked the collar up on his leather jacket then shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
“There’s a movie theater just around the corner,” I said. “It’s not usually busy.”
“Perfect, I’m not in the mood for fans.” He glanced at me. “Not that I don’t appreciate them, I just wanna be with you.”
Again that lovely glow warmed my insides. It was how I felt. I just wanted to be with him, too.
We bought tickets for a French film with subtitles. It was a romantic comedy set in Paris and I liked both the main actors and the director. Todd said he hadn’t heard of them but would go along with my recommendation. I spoke fluent French after spending two years there as a student in my early twenties, and I hoped the humor wouldn’t be lost in translation.
Todd insisted on paying for the tickets and a giant tub of buttered popcorn. As far as we could tell, we made it to the back row of the dark cinema with only one brief glance of recognition from the old guy who served the popcorn.
“You okay?” I asked as we sat.
“Yeah. Not many people here, are there?”
“It’s not a big-budget film so it hasn’t had the advertising. But I’m sure it will be okay.”
“Yeah, it’ll be cool.” He delved into the tub of popcorn and shuffled back in his seat as the opening titles began.
It was a really good film. The cinematography excellent, and because I loved Paris the scenery was a real treat. The actors were in top form and I even heard Todd chuckle in that deep, rumbling way of his a few times.
About halfway through, we’d finished the popcorn. I leaned forward and set the tub I’d been holding onto the floor. When I sat back I felt Todd reach over my thigh and then he curled his fingers with mine. Pressing us palm to palm.
I glanced at him through the darkness. The flickering light of the film cast shadows on his face, as did the peak of his cap, but I could see his eyes—just—they were looking at me, soft and excited all at the same time.
I forced myself not to look too affected even though heat from his hand burned on to mine. His touch was creating an electrical impulse of sensation that shot up my arm, through my chest and straight to my groin. Fuck, was I really going to get hard at the movies? My cock was out of control today. No, make that ever since I’d met Todd Carty my cock had had a mind of its own.
I swallowed tightly and glanced around. Despite my inner turmoil and my battle not to grab Todd and molest the hell out of him, the other members of the audience, all seated in front of us, continued to stare straight ahead. Nothing had changed. Except of course, Todd Carty was holding my hand. Big strong fingers were woven with
mine. His forearm, that beautiful hair-fuzzed forearm, was leaning on mine. Okay, it was covered in his leather jacket and that stopped me from truly appreciating all of his roped tendons and defined muscles, but still, it felt so good.
After Todd reached for my hand, the film wasn’t as captivating. I kept thinking of other things. Like was Todd getting hard for me? Would we go to a bar for a drink afterward? Would we kiss good night? Would he ask me back to his place or come back to mine? Maybe we would even spend the night together. And if so, would we fuck? Were we, was he, at that stage yet?
The film ended and we stayed seated while the few other people wandered off, two speaking loudly in French.
“You enjoy that?” I asked as the credits came to an end.
“Yeah, it was good. Funny.”
He untangled his fingers from mine. My hand felt hot, my fingers stiff. But I wasn’t complaining. A Liaison in Paris was now my new favorite film and the longer my fingers remembered Todd’s woven through them the better.
“What do you want to do now? Go for a drink or something?” I asked.
“A drink, yeah, how about back at my place? I’ve got a vintage whiskey, one of my old teammates, Rick Lewis, gave to me as a leaving present.”
“Rick Ramrod Lewis.”
“Yeah.”
“God, you just drop names into a conversation, but that guy is a legend.”
“He’s just a guy who plays hockey for a living.” Todd shrugged.
“Yeah, I know, but seriously, Rick Lewis.”
He laughed. “So is that a yes to the eight-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey he got me?”
“Yeah, it is, but if it was bargain basement Walmart whiskey I’d still say yes.”
One side of his mouth tilted into a smile and he stood, looming over me, all big shoulders, wide chest and beautiful, denim-wrapped groin. “That’s good to know, Matthew. Really good to know.”
*****
His apartment was warm. The heating had been on full blast and it was pleasant to step into after the short but chilly walk around the block.
I shrugged out of my jacket and flopped onto his sofa, happy to be sitting back in the spot we’d shared our first kiss.
Todd moved to a mirrored drinks cabinet and poured golden liquid into two crystal tumblers.
“Thanks,” I said when he passed me one.
He sat close and took a sip. “Mmm, good.”
I tried it, too. Let the peaty, malt-rich flavor soak through my taste buds. It was damp earth made hot, syrupy and spiced. It flowed down my throat then slid a heated path around my gullet. It was by far the most delicious whiskey I’d ever tasted.
“What have you been up to today?” he asked, kicking off his sneakers and exposing black socks. He wriggled his toes.
“I secured some work with an agency. Nothing exciting, but it will keep money rolling in, then I hung out with the guys at Rizzles.”
“That’s Gareth and Joel’s bar, right?”
“Yeah. Raymond was there today. I haven’t seen him for a while, he’s been away on business. It was good to catch up.”
“What’s he do?”
“Interior designer, sort of, he does a lot of stuff for TV. Stage sets and that.”
“I’d like to meet your buddies.”
“You would?”
“Yeah, they sound like a good bunch of guys.”
“They are, but I’m not sure if you’re ready for them yet.”
He pulled a face and snorted. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
“No, not at all. I know you can, it’s just…” I hesitated.
“What?”
“You’d be the first guy they’ll have seen me with since Tony.”
He nodded. “Well, whenever you think the time is right.” There was a pause. “I sense there’s an and?” he said, frowning.
I chuckled. “Yeah, and Raymond especially might be a little starstruck. He’s always had a crush on you.”
Todd didn’t laugh. Instead he took my whiskey and set it on the table next to his. “Well, that’s too damn bad,” he said, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “Because I just happen to have a massive crush on you.”
He kissed me—all wet, warm lips and gentle tongue that tasted of whiskey.
I curled my hands around his balled biceps, holding him as he held me. I was falling into him, every time he kissed me he broke down my defenses. It had been so long since something had felt so right.
Eventually he came up for air, brushed his fingers across my cheek and onto my neck. “What’s it like?” he asked quietly.
“What?” I stared at his long blond eyelashes. The dim light in the room meant they cast shadows on his cheeks each time he blinked.
“To be living as a gay man, with gay friends, everyone knowing.”
I ran my hand up his arm and moved a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. “It’s all I’ve ever known so it feels right, it feels how it’s meant to be for me. If I suddenly announced I liked women, that would be a shock for everyone.”
We were silent for a moment.
“This feels so right,” he said. “Here with you now and earlier at the movies…” He paused. “Holding your hand. I swear I was nervous before I reached over and took it. Like some hormone messed-up teenager or something, gathering up courage.”
Smiling, I pressed my hand over his that was now resting on my sternum. “It was nice.”
He half closed his eyes and his mouth tightened.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
He looked back up at me.
“Todd?”
“If it gets out that I’m gay, that I’m seeing you, it’s gonna get real complicated.”
“I’m sure it will.” A knot of apprehension grew in my gut. I didn’t want to say my next words but I needed to hand him the option. “But you can still change your mind.”
Please don’t, not now you’ve made me fall for you.
He snorted. “I can’t change my mind about being gay. I know how I feel and although I have no desire to shout about a relationship with you from the top of Everest, at least not until we’ve…”
“Been together for a while…fucked.”
He grinned. “Yeah, fucked. I also don’t wanna spend my time sneaking around to be with you.”
Mmm, the thought of time together. Fucking. Taking him to the places he hadn’t yet experienced and feeling him, holding him as he let go of all those years of suppression. I could hardly wait. But I would. It was the best thing for us both.
He looked worried, as though a ton of what-ifs were tumbling in his mind. I took his hand in both of mine. “Are there any other gay players in the NHL?”
“None that have been open about it. It’s a macho world I live in. Homophobia is commonplace in the locker room, but the Play For All Project has been bandied about lately.”
“What’s that?”
“Ah, just an organization that offers support for gay athletes, helps promote equal opportunities and all that. Attitudes are softening in some areas at least but still, I’d be the first to hit the headlines.”
I considered our options. “So we do need to keep our relationship quiet otherwise you’ll have a load of shit to cope with. It’s always going to be hardest for the first. After that no one else will get the same frenzy of attention.”
He huffed. “I don’t wanna be a trailblazer and Max will see it as a PR nightmare. But what can I do? It’s how I was made. I know that as well as I know my own damn name.”
“It’s simple. We keep this hush, be careful like we were today at the movies. We can be friends in everyone’s eyes and then when we’re alone, like this, we can relax and show each other how we feel.” I stroked my fingertip up his forearm, watching the little hairs moving beneath my touch.
“But that’s what I don’t want,” he said firmly, “the creeping around like we’re having an affair or something. I’ve spent too many years not being true to myself. Hiding my feelings for Ra
ven was like chipping away at a part of who I was. Besides, I’m a tough guy, despite being called pretty all the fucking time. I can look after myself. If ignorant bastards decide to take a swing at me I’ll swing right back. I want to be judged for my on-ice skills, not for who I date.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to look after yourself and all that, but…” The thought of him having to defend himself because he had feelings for and spent time with me made me feel physically sick.
“But?” He frowned.
“But as I said, coming out is hard for anyone. You’re going to get it one hundred times more intense. Your emotions will be strung out, your sexual preferences hung up like dirty laundry. I want you to think real carefully about this, and we really should keep a low profile, for a while at least, until you’re absolutely sure.”
“Sure about being gay or about being with you?” Now he just looked cross with me.
“Both, I guess.”
“How many times do I have to say it? I am sure about both, and I don’t care how hard it gets.” I saw a now-familiar glint of grim determination in his eyes. “Because this is what I want. You are what I want and nothing is going to sway me. Even if the press are bastards and the players rile me, I’ve got to get through it.” He pursed his lips and frowned. “In the end someone has to weather the storm of being the first openly gay player in the NHL. I’m not going to go out of my way to make that me, but if I am…” He shrugged. “I am.”
I had to admire his positivity, but still, it was going to be like landing in a lion’s den and, confident as he was, he’d need all the support he could get if the shit hit the fan. “And your family? How will they feel about it?” I asked.
“It’s only Dad. Mom lives on the West Coast. We’re not close. She’s remarried twice since she divorced my father. I can’t imagine it will make any difference to her. She has two stepsons now, grown up, and lives in a dreamy haze of plastic surgery and fad diets. I only catch up with her every once in a while.” He shrugged. “She won’t be bothered either way.”
