by Avon Gale
God, it was so nice to see her. Phone calls and Skype weren’t the same thing. “Yeah. There’s two more games before Christmas and then one the day before you leave.”
“Cool.” She yawned and turned her attention out the windows. “Okay. It is pretty here,” she allowed. “Do you think it might snow?”
“We might get a few flurries, yeah.” He grinned when she gave a little clap of excitement. So much for hating the cold. “We could drive up somewhere in the mountains if you wanted. Uh. Maybe not in my car, though.”
They spent the rest of the short drive to Shane’s place in easy companionship, and luckily she didn’t ask if he was seeing anyone, because he wasn’t even sure how to answer that. Hooking up didn’t count, right?
They spent the night watching some of her surfing videos on YouTube, eating snacks of questionable health content, and catching up. It was a great night, and Shane remembered how they used to do that in San Diego at least once a month, if not more. If they were attracted to each other, they probably would have made a perfect couple.
After he assured Alani that he’d changed the sheets on the bed within the last week, he settled on the couch with a light blanket and thought about texting Troy something filthy just to get him all worked up. He’d done that before, but he didn’t want to think about it. His cock was getting hard, and he wasn’t going to jerk off when Alani could come out of the bedroom for water or a bathroom visit or whatever else. She’d heard him with guys a time or two in the house, but there was a difference between that and giving her a solo show.
Even thinking about texting Troy got Shane hot, so he ran through hockey plays until he fell asleep.
BEFORE PRACTICE the next day, when he’d ascertained that his teammates were fully dressed and not running around naked or doing anything too absurd, he texted Alani and told her to come in so he could introduce her.
“This is Alani,” he said, an arm around her shoulders. “She’s my best friend and roomie back in San Diego. She’s here to visit, so be nice.”
“Cool. The surfer, right?” Evan Snyder sidled up to them immediately. He held out his hand. “I’m Evan. If you want to dump North here for a younger, hotter model, give me a call.”
Shane hit him on the back of the head. “Women don’t exist for you to hit on, you know,” he said grouchily. “And she’s my friend, not my girlfriend.”
“So hot and smart, eh?” Evan laughed at Shane’s glower. “Seriously, surfing is awesome. I’ve done it once or twice.”
“He means he used a boogie board at Myrtle Beach last year,” Cory Martin interjected. “And he inhaled like half the Atlantic Ocean.”
“You wouldn’t get in without water shoes.” Evan glared at his teammate.
Alani was clearly amused by their antics. At least one of them was. “Hockey players are like, the same everywhere. Or maybe it’s just dudes.”
Shane introduced her to Xavier next. “This is the team captain, Xavier Matthews. We call him Matty.”
He tried not to make it obvious that this is the hot gay one, but her eyes turned a little more speculative as she shook his hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, ma’am,” said Xavier, and Shane had to hold back a laugh.
“Wow. Really? Ma’am? I’m only twenty-three.”
“Matty’s a polite guy,” Shane said, and then louder, “The rest of these morons could learn something.”
“But we probably won’t,” Evan said cheerfully and went to get his gear on.
Alani talked to Xavier a little about surfing and exclaimed over his North Carolina accent and the oddity of meeting an actual southerner who played hockey.
Shane put on his gear, grabbed his water bottle, and made his way in his skates to the fountain to fill it up. While there he saw Alani shake Coach Quinn’s hand and noticed her smile seemed a little more forced. Quinn also stood way too close, which made Shane narrow his eyes in annoyance.
“Tell your girlfriend to be careful with Quinn. He’s a Neanderthal when it comes to the opposite sex.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, and you know it.” The sound of Troy’s voice so close to Shane’s ear made his body break out in goose bumps. “And how do you even know that about Quinn?”
“Few things he’s said. You gonna introduce me?” Troy pushed away from the wall by the water fountain and gave Shane his usual challenging expression. It was the one that made Shane want to shove him around and then blow him. Damn it. He was not going to get an erection in a cup. Fuck no. That hurt like balls.
“Sure. Hey, Al. Come here for a sec.”
Alani said something to Quinn that Shane couldn’t hear, but he didn’t like the way Quinn watched her walk away. He knew better than to step in and say anything, because Alani hated that shit and could handle herself. Still. Quinn always seemed so nonthreatening, and it was weird to see him acting like a sleazeball.
“Alani, this is my coach, Troy Callahan. We call him Coach Cally. Coach, this is my friend Alani Kane.”
“Hi,” Alani said cheerfully and reached her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
Troy shook her hand. “Yeah, you too. The surfer, huh? I can barely swim in the fucking ocean, much less stand up on a board. How in the hell do you even do that without drowning?”
If Xavier Matthews had been there, he probably would have apologized for their coach’s cursing in front of a lady. But Al was no stranger to cursing, and she gave Callahan a grin that Shane knew meant she liked him.
“It takes a lot of fucking practice,” she said, and Troy’s smile was genuine and rare and wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
“Feel free to come sit on the bench for practice if you want. I’ll keep Quinn out of your hair.”
She blushed a little and then tossed her hair. “I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. This is a hockey practice, not Quinn’s personal dating service. Good to meet you, Alani.”
“You too, Coach Callahan.”
“It’s Troy,” Troy corrected and then said, “North, what the fuck are you still doing in here? Get your ass on the ice with everyone else. That’s how this works.”
They were the only three left in the locker room, so Shane snapped a salute. “Sure thing, Coach.”
Troy’s eyebrows drew together. “Don’t be fucking cute. Your friend didn’t travel all this way to watch you sit on a bench.”
Shane cast his eyes heavenward. “See you after practice,” he said to Alani and stalked off toward the tunnel. It would be nice if walking on skates off-ice didn’t make him feel like a cranky duck waddling to a pond.
“Soooo,” Evan said while they waited in line for a skating drill.
“Ask me and I’ll punch you, Snydes.”
“Geez, North. I was just going to ask you why she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s a professional surfer, she’s Hawaiian, and she’s hot as hell. Are you like, blind?”
“Are you, like, dumb?” Shane snapped, bopping him on the head. He was used to this. It happened in San Diego all the time. His teammates were confounded that Shane wasn’t dating the hot surfer, as though the notion of men and women just being friends had never occurred to them. Most of them were in their twenties, so maybe it hadn’t. “She’s here to hang out with me, not have a team of assholes hit on her.”
“We’re a lot better about the asshole thing now, though,” Evan pointed out, undaunted. He laughed outright and skated off for his turn in the drill before Shane could bop him harder. With his hockey stick.
Alani sat on the bench, shivering a little, but she waved at him when he looked over, which made him roll his eyes. She was totally only doing that to embarrass him. Back in San Diego, she occasionally showed up to his games with signs—often doused in glitter.
Alani was suspiciously quiet as they got in the Rabbit, which made Shane nervous. It meant she’d noticed something, and that wasn’t going to go anywhere good.
“Want to pick up anything for lunch?” Shane asked. “I
figured we could go out for dinner, but… what?”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Shane. You know what.”
“Fine. Yes, I know. Xavier Matthews is incredibly hot. But he’s twenty-five or some shit, Alani, and—”
She made a loud buzzer noise. “Oh, Shane, knock it off. You know I’m not talking about Xavier. Though yeah, he’s super cute. I’m talking about Callahan. Who, if he were any more your type, would have been made in a lab for you.”
Shane groaned. “You don’t know my type that well.”
“Uh, yeah I do,” she huffed. “And even if I didn’t, the way you two were eyefucking each other would have clued me in.”
Shane gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “He’s an asshole, Al. And you saw how he gives me a fucking hard time about literally everything.”
“Yeah.” She waggled her eyebrows at him with a leer. “I’m betting you’d like him to give you a hard time about literally everything.”
Shane groaned and, since they were at a traffic stop, pretended to hit his head on the steering wheel. “Do you want something to eat or not?”
“Not if it involves getting out of this car. I just got warm. But Shane, seriously, if you’re not going to hook up with the pretty one, why not the coach? He’s gotta be closer to your age, since that matters so much to you, all of a sudden.”
“Because he’s my coach? And I’m here to play hockey, not have sex with my teammates or my coach?” Shane swung the car into a Wendy’s in an effort to avoid talking about it. “What do you want to eat?”
Alani stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, Mr. Killjoy. Just get me a bacon cheeseburger.”
He did, and he also got her a Frosty. She pointedly ignored it and ate most of his fries on the way home.
THEY PLAYED their last game before the short Christmas break, and the team got together at a local pub that featured good food, live music, and enough seating for an entire hockey team. It wasn’t just the players and their significant others either. The coaches were there, as was Gabriel Bow and his wife and a few other front-office people whom Shane knew vaguely by appearance.
“First round of drinks is on me,” said Bow, which got a cheer from his team. “I wanted to tell all of you how pleased I am so far with the season. I’m starting to see a team instead of just a bunch of hockey players, and that’s all I could ask for.”
“We could win more games,” Troy added. “And fix the fucking forecheck. How many goddamn times do I need to run that attack-angle drill?”
“A lot, Coach Cally,” Cory Martin called out.
“You want to start the New Year off with a bag skate, Martin?”
That got a round of laughter from the table as several servers appeared to take their orders.
“Oh, no. My phone’s dead.” Alani scowled down at her smartphone. It had a cracked screen, and Shane was almost certain she’d dropped it in the ocean more than once. “I really should get a new one.”
“Tell your newest sponsor,” Shane teased.
“Bhodi is a wetsuit brand, Shane,” she said dryly. She pouted at her phone. “I wanted to get a picture of us. Hey, where’s yours?”
Shane reached into his pocket, but his phone was nowhere to be found. He patted his other pocket and twisted to get into his jacket on the back of his chair. No phone. “Shit. I think I left it in the car. Be right back.” He grabbed his keys and pushed back from the table.
He jogged to his car, cursing under his breath at his decision to forgo his coat and wishing he’d scored a closer parking spot. A cursory glance inside showed his Samsung lying on the console. Shane opened the door, grabbed the phone, and pocketed it. When he straightened and shut the door, he turned and found himself face-to-face with Troy.
Shane was thinking of something smart to say when Troy pushed him back against the car and kissed him. Suddenly he was fine with the car being parked so far away from the entrance, because he relaxed back against it, widened his stance, and grabbed Troy’s coat to pull him in closer and kiss him back. Troy’s mouth had the faintest taste of Coke and whiskey, and Shane chased after it with his tongue.
“Leaving already?” he asked between heavy, heated kisses.
“Mmm. Yeah. We thought we’d let the rest of you kids enjoy your evening without adult supervision.” Troy rubbed at Shane’s cock through his jeans. “Get in the car and I’ll blow you.”
“Alani’s waiting for me,” Shane managed as his cock hardened beneath Troy’s hand.
“Oh? What’s that?” Troy maneuvered closer, shoved one leg between Shane’s, and replaced his hand with the hard grind of his thigh. “You worried about being caught, North?”
Shane’s eyes closed at the pressure against his cock, which felt fucking wonderful, and continued to protest. “Car’s too small. And it’s too fucking cold.”
“I could make you come right here in your jeans, and you know it.” Troy’s mouth was hot on Shane’s neck, his voice like a filthy caress. He increased the pressure of his thigh against Shane’s cock. “Could grind against you, rub you off, and you’d fucking love every goddamn second of it.”
Shane absolutely believed Troy could make him come like that, and he probably would love every goddamn second of it… until it was over and he had a wet stain on his jeans and no way to explain it. He swore and reached behind him to open the door, glad it was still unlocked. Then he fell gracelessly down into the seat and tried not to moan at the sight of Troy kneeling on the parking lot. “We’re going to get arrested for public exposure if someone sees us,” Shane panted as he worked to get his jeans open.
“Then you better come fast,” said Troy. He leaned in close and rubbed his face against Shane’s dick, as though he had all the time in the world.
Shane’s teeth locked together. “Suck me hard and make me.” He had to wonder why he seemed to lose absolutely all common sense when it came to this man and doing sexual things with him in really stupid—not to mention uncomfortable—public places. The parking lot was busy, for fuck’s sake. And yeah, he was over in a corner and in a shadowy spot, but anyone could come out to their car. Their only saving graces were that Shane’s overhead light had burned out years before and Troy was mostly obscured by the car door.
Troy’s mouth was hot, and the contrast between that and the frigid air—and the fact he’d been hard-up and hadn’t even jacked off since Alani showed up—got him off in record time. He was barely aware of Troy tucking his cock back in his boxers until he said, “Fix your pants, North,” with the world’s most infuriatingly smug look on his face.
Shane zipped up and buttoned his jeans. Then he pushed himself up and out of the car. “You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” He grabbed Troy, pulled him in, and kissed him so he could taste himself on Troy’s tongue. Fuck, that got him going. “Hot, though. Goddamn, that was good. I owe you one.”
“You do, but later. Get back to your party.”
Troy’s erection pressed against Shane as he kissed Troy again. “You know you’re gonna have gravel on your suit pants, Cally.”
“Lucky for me, I know what a goddamn dry cleaner is.” Troy gave him one last, heated kiss and pulled away. “Happy holidays, North.”
“Yeah. You too.” Shane watched as Troy headed for his car. Then he turned and made his way back to the restaurant. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that, and he was too sex-stupid to come up with a reason why he’d been gone so long.
“Where were you?” Alani asked the second he sat back down. “That creepy assistant coach was hitting on me before he left.”
Oh, Jesus. Shane hoped Quinn had parked on the other side of the lot. “Had to go to the bathroom,” he lied.
Her eyebrows went up, but thankfully she didn’t say anything.
“Want to take that picture now?” Shane held up the phone.
They got into position, and he took a variety of selfies. Then Shane wordlessly handed it over so she could pick the best one. They’d done this dance
before.
Alani was flipping through them when she snorted and started to laugh. “Wow, Shane.”
“What, am I making a funny face or someth—” She handed the phone back, and he looked down to see a text on the screen from Troy.
Gonna get off thinking about fucking you over that car of yours, Shane. You would’ve let me after that blowjob, wouldn’t you? Let me bend you over the hood, cover your mouth with my hand and fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk. I’d come all over your ass like I came all over your face.
That was maybe the hottest text Shane had ever received, but it was definitely the most ill-timed. And since Shane had Troy’s contact info stored as “Coach Callahan” in his phone, it left little doubt who sent it either.
“Umm,” Shane said weakly. His face felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t look at Alani. “I… ah.”
“You can explain on the way home.” She paused. “And by that I mean you will explain on the way home.”
Shane knew he couldn’t argue. He finished his beer, said his good-byes, and wished his teammates happy holidays.
On their way out, they found Xavier getting ready to drive Evan Snyder home. He enthused about Shane being awesome and then said to Alani, “Nice to meet you. M’gonna check out surfing. Damn. But North really is a good guy, so maybe you should date him.”
Alani shook her head but smiled. “You’re a lot better at this than your assistant coach, and you’re not even trying. Let me see if I can help here. I’d be way more into Shane’s sister, if he had one, than I am into Shane.”
Evan blinked. “Like in a Flowers in the Attic kind of way?”
Xavier gaped at him. “Snydes, what is wrong with you?”
“And how are you even old enough to make that joke?” Shane asked, even though he couldn’t help but laugh. Even Alani giggled.
“It’s called the internet, old man,” Evan said with the sort of dignity only one too many beers provided. “Duh.”
