by Avon Gale
In the morning they went running. And then they went to practice, and Ethan thought maybe that was it and that it wouldn’t happen again. He told himself that was fine. It was okay. He didn’t need it or anything.
He wanted it, though. A lot. And Ethan had no idea what to do about that. He just hoped Riley did.
Chapter Six
RILEY HAD no idea what to do about Ethan.
They’d made out on the couch, and that was hot and different—but not too weird. But then Riley had lost his control for a second and sat on Ethan’s lap.
God, it had felt so good. He hadn’t wanted to stop, which was a problem.
It was a problem. Wasn’t it? It had to be. He couldn’t do things like that with Ethan. They were friends. Roommates. Teammates, for God’s sake. What the hell was he doing? Here he was, worried that the whole money thing was going to fuck everything up, and what did he decide to do? Add sex into the equation and hope for the best. No wonder he’d never been very good at math.
Riley waited until Ethan was out and he had the apartment to himself. Then he decided to call Lane.
“Hey,” Lane said cheerfully when he picked up. “How’s Florida? I miss the weather. Also dude, five goals? Jared gave me shit for how bad his old team beat my old team. Could you not do that again?”
Lane, who looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad campaign and was easily the most talented player Riley had ever played with, occasionally said things that made it seem like he was an asshole. In reality he was one of the nicest, most generous guys Riley had ever met—just a little clueless about how to talk to other people.
Riley laughed despite himself. “I miss you. But then you say that, and it makes me remember why everyone thought you were a dick.”
“Yeah. I know. Jared told me that I should warn my new team on the first day of practice that sometimes I say stuff without stopping to think about how it might sound first.”
“Did you?” Riley knew Lane’s social skills had improved a lot during his season with the Storm, but he would probably always be a little awkward.
“I told people that my first pro season was kind of rough at first, ’cause I said dumb stuff without thinking, and that I’d probably do it again. But, you know, some of them have worse social skills than me.”
“I refuse to believe that, Lane.”
Lane sighed. “Maybe not. So, are you okay? Why’d that happen? You’re not injured. Are you?”
“Nope. Someone messed up my goal marks.”
Lane sounded as if Riley just told him someone had mowed down the entire team with the Zamboni. “What? Why?”
“It was an accident. My head just wasn’t in the game, and I was tired. Fourth start in five days and all that.”
“Right. The dog and pony show.”
Riley blinked. “The what?”
“That’s what my coach calls it. I don’t know. So what’s up?”
Riley said, sort of hesitantly, “Remember when you asked me if I was gay?”
“Yeah. And you said you weren’t not gay, which was weird, and I’d never heard anyone say that before.”
“And I said I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to make out with. Right?”
“Right. I mean, yeah. You said that.” Lane cleared his throat. “Did you? Meet someone you wanted to make out with?”
“Yeah.” Riley expelled a breath. “It’s, umm… Ethan Kennedy.”
“Kennedy?” Lane made an appreciative noise. “Do it. He’s hot.”
“I sort of… did… already,” Riley hedged. He was glad Lane wasn’t there to see him blush.
“Oh. Cool. So, did you like it?” Lane sounded like Riley just told him he’d tried a new flavor of Coke.
“Yeah,” Riley answered, wandering over to the window. “I did.”
“Right.” Lane paused. “So what’s the problem? Is there a problem? Did he not like it? Were you drunk? Was he asleep?”
Riley actually lifted the phone away from his ear and gave it a weird look before he answered. Lane clearly didn’t have a very good opinion of Riley’s make-out strategies. “Really?”
“I’m just asking,” Lane said defensively. “Are you just telling me this because I’m gay?”
Riley made an exasperated noise. “I’m telling you because I don’t know what to do and you’re my friend.”
“You don’t know what to do about what? Kissing? You kiss guys like girls, Riley. I’m pretty sure. I mean, I haven’t kissed any girls, but I’ve seen Jared do it, and it looks the same to me.”
Riley hit his head lightly on the glass window. “I know that. I just don’t know what it means. Or what I should do about it.”
“Kiss him again?” Lane sounded confused. “Or do you mean, like, what to do next? You’re not kissing him right now. Or are you?”
“Seriously, Lane?” Riley sighed and stared out at the ocean. It was going to storm. He could see the clouds gathering on the horizon. They were ominous and a potentially bad metaphor. Or else it was just the weather mimicking his phone conversation with Lane. “He’s not even home right now.”
“Well. Do you want to kiss him again? Or what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Riley explained patiently. He pretended he was in goal, trying to find a nice, calm, centered place in his head. Unfortunately that was taken up by remembering how it felt to have Ethan beneath him.
“Did he like it?”
“I’m pretty sure he did,” Riley answered. He could see lightning in the distance. “But do I—what do I even—” Fuck. Riley didn’t even know how to ask the question.
“What? Dude. Look, Riley. He’s a guy. Just put your hand on his—hey!”
Suddenly Lane was gone, and there was someone else on the phone.
“Hi, Riley. This is Jared. I’m sorry. I can’t listen to Lane’s half of this conversation anymore. I hope you don’t mind. Oh, go do some sit-ups,” Jared said, clearly talking to Lane. His voice was so affectionate it made Riley smile.
And it made him a little jealous too.
“That’s cool.” Riley gave a small laugh. “Actually it’s better than cool. Thanks.” Riley didn’t know Jared Shore very well, beyond hockey and the few times he’d hung out during the summer before leaving with Lane for Toronto. He was a fighter like Ethan, but after having the best season of his entire career, the thirty-three-year-old veteran had hung up his skates and was coaching a junior hockey team in Toronto.
“I realize it’s pretty presumptuous of me to grab the phone. But I swear, if you don’t mind telling me what’s up, I’ll give you better advice than Dr. Love here.” Jared cleared his throat. “Or you can tell me to fuck off and mind my own business. This is really rude of me. Isn’t it? I’m as bad at this as Lane. Let’s blame him.”
“No. It’s fine. I promise.” Riley was glad no one was here to see him blushing again. Especially Ethan, who would probably make fun of him.
“So this is a new thing for you. Right?” Jared didn’t sound like he had a problem talking about it. Maybe he was used to uncomfortable conversations because he lived with Lane.
“Yeah.” Riley wondered what he wanted to ask. “For… umm. Both of us, I’m pretty sure.”
“Ah. See, these are the details I did not get from Lane’s half of this conversation. He made it sound like you were kissing your roommate when he was sleeping on the couch.”
Riley couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. No. We were both awake. But I’ve never wanted to do that with a guy before. Is it just Ethan? Is that even possible?”
“I didn’t used to think so, but the older and somewhat wiser I get, the more I think we just fall for people,” Jared said simply. “Sometimes people can get over it being another guy and sometimes they can’t. Which is sad, because who doesn’t like blow jobs?”
“How is this better advice?” Lane shouted from the background. “I told him to start with a hand job. You’re jumping ahead.”
“Ignore him.” Jared sighe
d. “Anyway, what I meant was, it doesn’t mean you’ve been lying to yourself for years or anything.”
Riley nodded. That made sense. “It takes me a long time to be attracted to people. Probably why I’ve never been that good with hookups or whatever.”
“How about Ethan?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know either,” Riley said immediately, then realized how that sounded. “I mean, he’s never been with a guy before either.” Riley cleared his throat. “The kissing is fine. I think it’s the part where we both got. Umm. Into it?” Riley’s face was flaming. “Fuck man. I never talk about this shit.”
“Nah. I get it. But he was into it. Yeah?”
“Yeah. But he seemed kind of jumpy. He kind of freaked out when we were both, uh… obviously enjoying it?” Riley walked into the kitchen. This conversation made him wish he liked hard liquor, but it wasn’t at the level of awkward where drinking Ethan’s whiskey seemed like a good idea. Maybe if Lane got back on the line, Riley would consider it.
“You mean you both got hard, and he freaked out?”
Riley resisted the urge to giggle wildly. “Yeah. So we stopped.”
“Because you liked it, or because it was weird?”
“Both.” Riley thought about that and grabbed himself a Coke. Their fridge had a sharp distinction between the Coke and Pepsi, with the coconut water in between like a demilitarized zone. “For me, anyway. I don’t know about him, and I guess that’s my problem.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“What’s that?” Riley asked, hearing the rain start up outside. “Get him drunk?”
“Sure. Or you could… you know. Just ask him,” Jared suggested, a smile in his voice. “My only word of advice? Watch out when it’s your teammate. I’ve seen this go bad a few times.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I mean, come on. This is a sport played by a bunch of guys who hang around each other and compete all the time. You tell me you don’t think sex gets mixed up with that, and I’ll make you talk to Lane about feelings again.”
“Please don’t,” Riley said, and Jared laughed, even though he probably hadn’t really been kidding.
“It sounds to me like someone needs to take charge of this whole thing,” Jared said, which Riley already knew. Maybe he just needed to hear someone else say it. “Trust me on this one. I had to do that with Courtnall here, and he already knew he wanted my dick.”
In the background Lane said something that Riley couldn’t make out, but whatever it was, it made Jared laugh.
“Thanks,” Riley said. He thought about it for a minute. “Could we pretend we never talked about this, though?”
“Duh.” Jared’s droll voice turned sympathetic. “Good luck, Riley. I think you’ll have your hands full. Like I do.”
“If you’re lucky,” Lane called out, and then, because he was Lane, “I mean, hopefully he’ll be hung or whatever. Like I am.”
“Please make him stop talking,” said Riley. “Thanks, Shore.”
“Already on it and no problem. Later, Hunter.”
Riley ended the call, then went to his bedroom and sat down at his desk. He flipped open his laptop and unbuttoned his jeans with one hand. Research. That’s what he needed to do.
Suddenly the sky gave a loud boom of thunder, and the power went out. Luckily he had a folder of downloaded video files and a fully charged battery to keep him entertained.
THE POWER was still out when Ethan got home a few hours later. He was soaking wet, and Riley could see the tattoos through the thin white shirt he was wearing. Riley wanted to shove him against a wall and do all those things he’d been learning about until his laptop battery died.
Ethan changed clothes, and they ate sandwiches in the darkened living room. They didn’t have any candles. Riley had a safety flare in the Honda, but that didn’t seem like a good replacement for a candle.
The lack of distraction meant the tension between them was the only thing they had to focus on, and it made Riley quiet and Ethan fidgety. Not that that was a huge difference in their normal behaviors, but the charged atmosphere made everything seem much more pronounced.
Riley took the remains of their dinner into the kitchen, then went back into the living room. He was supposed to be in charge here. Right.
“Is your laptop charged? We could watch a movie or something,” Ethan suggested. “You know. On Netflix.”
“It’s not. I was using it when the power went out, and the battery’s dead. Also, dude, you need the Internet for Netflix. And power for the Internet. It’s not magic.”
“Oh yeah. Right.” Ethan pushed up to his feet and rocked back on his heels. His gaze darted around like he was desperate to find something to focus on. He was tense, and his wiry frame was fairly vibrating with energy.
“I was doing some research,” Riley said, stepping closer. It’s like being in goal. Show no fear. But maybe stop with the clichés before this turns into a motivational sports-movie montage.
“For what?” Ethan didn’t take a step back, but his eyes were very wide.
“Come on.” Riley reached out and took his arm. “I’ll show you.”
“Riley—” Ethan resisted for half a second, then gave him that wild grin that Riley liked so much. “Okay. Yeah. But you’re not holding my hand on the way to the bedroom. Veto.”
He hadn’t been planning on it, but Riley suddenly wanted to do it just because Ethan said not to. Who knew he was so contrary? Your job is to keep people from scoring goals. Most people would think that was pretty contrary.
When they were standing in Riley’s darkened room, Ethan went to shut the door.
“Who’s going to walk in on us?” Riley asked, amused. “My roommate?”
“Shut up, Hunter,” Ethan muttered, looking a little sheepish. “You close the door when you make out. Okay? It’s just a rule. You clearly didn’t grow up with two sisters who didn’t knock.”
The idea of Madison walking in on him doing anything was foreign to Riley, namely because he was pretty sure she’d never once come to his bedroom at home. He sure as hell didn’t go to hers—except once when she was sick and the cook sent him up with chicken soup because she was busy preparing for one of his mother’s dinner parties.
“You can close it if you want,” Riley said, moving closer. He was trying not to be nervous, but every time he got close to Ethan, it was like playing his first game all over again.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s closed or open. I mean, it’s not like—” He stopped and expelled a breath. “I’m talking too much. What the hell? I never get nervous making out. Remember that girl I brought home? Sierra? I was not nervous about that. I was kind of drunk, though. Do we have any whiskey? I could use some. Just a little. Because too much and I won’t be very—why am I still talking?”
“I’m not sure.” Riley pushed him gently toward the bed. “I could give you something else to do with your…. God. I can’t say that,” he muttered, blushing hotly. “Let’s both just stop talking.”
“Good plan,” Ethan agreed solemnly and climbed on the bed.
Riley stretched out on his side next to him, and they started kissing. It was slow and unhurried for about four seconds, and then it wasn’t.
“We’re pretty good at this part,” Ethan told him, making Riley laugh against his mouth. “Don’t you think so?”
“Yeah,” Riley agreed. His hands moved slowly down Ethan’s chest, and he almost lost his nerve at the last minute and stopped at his waist. But then he took Ethan’s shirt off, which had to count for something. Progress.
Riley wished they had more light, so he could look at Ethan’s tattoos—which he was generally interested in. But at the moment, they would just be a distraction.
“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?” Ethan asked, his voice low and husky in a way that made Riley a little dizzy.
“No,” he answered, shifting closer. Ethan’s skin was so warm. “You are.”
“Mine’s alre
ady off, though.” Ethan huffed a laugh. “You mean I’ll take your shirt off. Right. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Riley held his arms up while Ethan tugged his shirt off, and then they went back to kissing.
Ethan was definitely a good kisser, but he was being way too gentle. That wasn’t their thing at all.
Take charge. Right.
Riley bit him on the mouth. “Bet I can pin you in ten seconds or less.”
“Ow. Fuck you. No way. I’m scrappy.” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and smirked up at him. “Try it.”
They tussled for a few seconds before Riley got Ethan on his back with his wrists pinned. “Told you,” he said smugly. That time Ethan didn’t kiss him like he was trying to be careful.
His blood rushed hot from their scuffle and from the way Ethan kissed him—like he was trying to throw punches with his mouth. It made Riley a lot more bold, even if he forgot some of the stuff he’d been researching all afternoon. He shifted so his thigh was between Ethan’s legs and lowered on top of him very slowly.
Ethan pulled his mouth away and immediately put his hands on Riley’s shoulders. “This is the part that I—” Ethan expelled a shaky breath. “Sorry. Of course I’m turned on. That’s the point. Right?”
Riley nodded. He carefully pressed his thigh against Ethan’s erection, and Ethan bucked up again like he had on the couch the other night. Riley liked that a lot, so he did it again.
“Should we stop?” Ethan kissed him messily, practically rubbing against Riley’s thigh.
Riley rocked down against him, and his own cock rubbed up against Ethan’s hip. He stared at Ethan, breathing hard. “Why would we do that?”
“Because, man.” Ethan’s voice sounded wild, but he didn’t say anything else.
Riley pulled back a little. “Look. We can stop if you want. I mean, I don’t want to force you to do anything.”
Ethan laughed, though it sounded more like a bark. “I want you to, though,” he muttered and turned his face away.
Riley thought he was turned on before, but it was nothing compared to how he felt hearing Ethan say that. “Umm. Could you maybe say that again?”
