by Ava Thorpe
Licking his lips, Carter took another step forward.
It was then that Luke finally noticed him. “Oh, hey, you’re home early,” Luke said. He untangled himself from Puck, pulling his shirt down and straightening himself up.
Carter felt a pang of disappointment. What the fuck? Blinking, Carter said, “Yeah, uh, skate ended early.”
Luke patted Puck one more time. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it, then. He was good today, by the way. Tried to chase after a pigeon, but that was it,” Luke said, amused.
That pulled a laugh out of Carter. “Yeah, he loves chasing after birds. I don’t think he’s realized that birds are a lot faster than he is.”
“He tried really hard, though,” Luke said solemnly before grinning. “Want to see a picture? I took one of him looking particularly dumb. I mean charming.”
Carter snorted. “No, dumb sounds about right. And let’s see.” He walked to Luke, leaning close to see Luke’s phone. He could smell Luke’s cologne—something earthy and almost floral, and it pulled at him, making him want to move even closer. It wasn’t something Carter would have picked for himself, but on Luke, it was fitting.
Luke unlocked his phone and thumbed through his gallery. “Here, this one—look at his face.”
It took Carter longer than he’d like to admit to turn his gaze from Luke to the phone. It was a good picture of Puck, though, his dog looking happy and excited. “That’s a pretty good picture. Do you mind sending it to me?”
Carter tried not to think about the sharp, small voice in his head that said, Good, this way you can get his phone number. He just wanted the picture, that was all. Plus, it would be good for Luke to have his number in case of emergencies, right?
“Yeah, for sure. Here, give me your number, and I’ll text it.”
Carter rattled off his number. “Feel free to text me, too, if you ever run into an emergency with Puck. At least while you’re walking him?”
He couldn’t remember if he ever gave his number to the old dog-walker. He was just being more responsible now, that was all.
“Emergencies, right, I didn’t even think of that,” Luke said, sending Carter the picture of Puck. “At least this way, we have each other’s numbers.”
“It’s the smart thing to do,” Carter said, nodding. Exchanging numbers totally made sense.
It was practical.
They stood there awkwardly for a minute, not saying anything, and Carter noticed the small specks of green in Luke’s very blue eyes. It was nice, different from his own boring brown eyes, and he found himself staring for a while.
“Umm, so yeah, I guess. I guess I’m going to go now?” Luke asked softly, like he was asking Carter for permission.
Carter almost said no, almost told Luke to hang out for a bit, and it confused the hell out of him. Luke was his dog’s walker, not his best friend, and yet there was a part of him that yelled for Luke to stay.
Instead, Carter said, “Yeah, uh, thank you again. For the picture.”
“No problem. I’ll—yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” Their eyes met briefly, before Luke turned away, and walked to the door.
Carter took hold of Puck, holding on to him like a lifeline as he watched Luke go.
What the hell was happening with him?
Chapter Five
Luke
It was increasingly clear that Charlie wasn’t coming back to Paws and Claws, so Marjorie officially gave Puck’s walks to Luke. Well, Luke and Ellie. Carter’s schedule was erratic, and there were times that Luke couldn’t accommodate them because of classes. Ellie was able to pick up the slack.
It worked out well.
Except sometimes, Luke felt intensely and irrationally possessive. It wasn’t something he thought about often, because it made him feel uncomfortable just how much he wanted to claw out, “Mine,” when Ellie took over his shifts. He liked Carter.
Puck.
He liked Puck.
Puck was a good charge, and Luke was starting to feel very fond of him. The feeling was mutual, too, from what he could gather, and he was glad that Puck was starting to feel at peace around him. He wished he was able to walk Puck full time, but while his class load was less intense due to his senior thesis, he was still expected to go to the ones he did have.
His phone pinged, making him jump. He was still in bed after a late night of studying for one of his courses. Finals were coming up, and he was starting to feel the pressure. Sleeping in that morning had been his reward for a long night of hitting the books.
I hope you actually got some sleep last night, instead of pulling an all nighter.
It was from Carter, and Luke tried to ignore the butterflies forming in his stomach.
Luke couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he and Carter started texting things to each other outside of Puck’s well-being. At first, Luke had kept his texts strictly about Puck—pictures, jokes about what Puck wanted to eat that day—stupid things that didn’t mean anything. He never expected Carter to respond to them, but Carter did. He responded to every single one, and soon enough, texts about Puck had turned to texts about music and movies and everything in between.
Luke would be lying if he didn’t say he was looking forward to each and every one of them.
Smiling, Luke tapped on his screen sleepily. I slept, I slept. Though admittedly, I’m just waking up, no thanks to you.
A moment later, his phone beeped again. It’s nearly noon, Luke. Lazy, Carter texted.
Not everyone is a morning person like you. It’s unnatural, anyway, Luke shot back. He wondered what Carter was doing now. He wasn’t scheduled to walk Puck today, which meant Carter had the day off.
Luke didn’t want to think about how his days were so much less brighter when he didn’t get to walk Puck.
“Ugh, stop this,” he said to himself, grabbing a pillow to smother himself with. If Luke was being honest, as much as he looked forward to walking his charge, he looked forward to seeing Carter more and more.
It was stupid. Carter was a friend. Or well, he’d like to think Carter was becoming a friend.
That was all.
They never talked about girls or relationships, but Luke was certain that Carter was straighter than a rod. There was no point in getting his hopes up. He was as stereotypical as stereotypical athletes can be. There wasn’t a girlfriend in the picture, at least from what Luke could tell, but it didn’t mean that Carter was anything other than heterosexual.
Developing feelings for Carter was a waste of time.
You need a keeper. Maybe I’ll start calling you before practice to make sure you’re awake. Is this why you never do morning walks? Carter texted a minute after.
Luke tried not to shiver at the thought of hearing Carter’s deep, baritone voice first thing in the morning. He wasn’t the best morning person, but he would probably appreciate mornings more if it meant they started with hearing Carter’s voice. He couldn’t tell Carter that, though, so he just sent him a middle finger emoji.
I’ll take that as a yes, then, Carter had texted, followed by a party emoji. He was a terror, but Luke was undeniably charmed.
It was becoming a problem.
It became more of a problem when five minutes later Carter texted him a picture. It was of him and Puck, squished together, with Carter’s living room in the background. The text said, Puck doesn’t want to go for a walk with me. I think he misses you.
Carter had a tight, black long-sleeved t-shirt on, the cloth clinging to his ridiculously well-defined shoulders. He was making a silly face, his lips curled into an exaggerated frown, but it didn’t take away from the fact that Carter looked devastating.
Luke felt his throat dry up. Closing his eyes, he thought about what it would be like to touch Carter, to feel his lips under his fingers. He needed to get a grip. This was Carter. Professional hockey player Carter. He would never be interested in someone like Luke.
Sighing, Luke opened his eyes again. Carter was just being friendly.
He needed to stop thinking about touching Carter, about kissing him, because it would never happen.
He flipped on his camera app. He took a picture of himself, smiling and giving a thumbs up. Before overthinking it, he sent the picture to Carter, with the text, That’s because he has great taste. I approve.
Luke didn’t know why he was so fixated on Carter, anyway. Sure, Carter was attractive. Okay, Carter was extremely, irritatingly attractive—he was hot like burning, and Luke couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone as sexy as the man. Still, ‘sexy’ was only one of the qualities Luke was looking for on his list. Carter didn’t tick off any other items on the list. Luke had spent a lot of time cultivating his list, there was no way he was going to just fling it out the window just because of Carter Welling.
He wanted someone intelligent, someone who could keep up with him. He wanted someone who supported him, someone who kept all of their promises. He wanted someone who was willing to make sacrifices for him.
Most of all, he wanted someone who wouldn’t keep him a secret.
Someone not straight.
Carter didn’t meet any of that.
He flung the blanket away from him, getting up from the bed. Luke needed to get on with his day, and he couldn’t tether himself to his phone, waiting for Carter’s next response. He wasn’t going to sit and wait. Really, he wasn’t.
So why was he disappointed when half an hour later, Carter still hadn’t replied?
Did he overdo it? Should he not have sent a picture of himself? Did he just make it awkward between them? He wanted to text Carter, to try and diffuse the situation maybe, but he didn’t want to come across as...Luke didn’t know, eager, maybe.
He made himself a quick lunch, thankful that his roommates weren’t home. He had great roommates—roommates that he loved, but sometimes, he liked having the house to himself.
His phone made a sound, just as he was finishing his soup. He hesitated at first, before giving in and sliding his phone open.
It was from Carter. Nice blanket. Puck finally let me put a leash around him, and we went for a quick walk. Had to bribe him with a treat. I blame this squarely on you.
Luke didn’t want to think about the feeling of relief flooding through him. He was glad he didn’t make it weird. Shut up, it’s comfortable. And that’s because my personality is stunning, clearly.
Carter texted him with another picture. This time, it had no message, just a picture of Carter with his eyebrows raised dubiously.
God, Luke was seriously fucked. Especially if Carter could elicit all of these feelings from him with a single picture. A picture where he was technically mocking Luke, at that. Luke traced the outline of Carter’s jawline on his phone, sighing wistfully.
Why couldn’t he have gotten a crush on someone else? Someone more attainable in a way that Carter was definitely not. Maybe he needed to go out. After all, what better way to replace a hopeless crush than to snag another cute guy?
He just needed to get Carter out of his system. Luke knew he wasn’t on the same level of attractiveness as Carter was, but to be frank, there weren’t many who fit the bill anyway. Luke was cute, fun, and mostly he wasn’t lying to Carter when he said he had a stunning personality.
Convinced, he punched in Zarwah’s number, waiting for the phone to ring. She was always down for a night out, and they never did end up going out after his last walk with her.
“Luke?” Z said, when she answered her phone. “So you do know my number.” Luke flushed, feeling bad for putting off calling her, but Zarwah didn’t sound too mad.
“Hey Z. Sorry about that,” Luke said, rueful. “You could have called me too, though.”
Zarwah laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time, you know that,” she said. “What’s up? Please tell me we’re hanging out soon. I miss you, asshole.”
He missed her too. “Same, but that’s why I’m calling. Want to go out with me this week? The sooner the better.”
“The sooner, the better, huh? Is there something you’re not telling me?” She always did know when something was up.
“It’s a long story,” Luke said. “I’ll tell you about it over cocktails?”
Zarwah hummed her agreement. “You better. I can’t do tonight or tomorrow, but Friday night, maybe?”
Friday it was, then. Luke was hoping for sooner, but Friday would do. “Sounds good. I’ll be ready.”
He was going to forget about Carter Welling and his stupid, gorgeous face.
Definitely.
Chapter Six
Carter
New York in December was hell. They had a short road trip there to play against the two New York teams. It was frigid and wet, a combination that wasn’t high on Carter’s list of things he was able to tolerate. He had the morning off, and a few of his teammates had convinced him to go with them to some diner in Manhattan that apparently served the best home fries this side of the Atlantic.
He was sure their trainers would have something to say about their quest for the best potato, but Carter had promised himself he would try and spend more time with his teammates. They were great guys, even if sometimes their tastes were suspect. They’d decided to walk to the diner from their hotel, and Carter had to bite back the whine at the tip of his tongue. The boys would never let it go if he complained about the cold. They were hockey players, for fuck’s sake, their whole lives revolved around the cold.
Still, Carter would have happily taken the subway instead. Wasn’t that one of New York’s crowning glories? Efficient public transit?
It was strange, though, to be able to walk through the city streets without anyone recognizing them. Not that anyone recognized Carter back home, really, but they had Ash with them in the group, and back in Ottawa, Ash usually attracted his fair share of fans no matter where they went. This was one of the perks of living and working in New York, he supposed. There were so many people more famous and more important than hockey players.
“Are you sure you know where we’re going, Soupy?” Jared groused beside him, and Carter couldn’t agree more. They’d been walking for fifteen minutes now, with no end in sight.
Colin Campbell—or Soupy, as they’d come to call him after the famous brand of canned soup—snorted. “Ye of little faith, Padawan. Don’t you trust me?”
Jared paused for a moment, before griping, “Nope, and it’s fucking freezing here. My balls feel like they’re about to shrivel up.” Jared wrapped his arms around himself for effect.
Putting an arm around Jared, Soupy ruffled Jared’s hair. “You poor, delicate soul,” he said, mocking. “It’s coming up, and believe me, these home fries are worth having your balls fall off.”
“It’s potatoes, I’m not sure you can make them taste any better than cardboard with some salt,” Carter couldn’t help but add. Jared wiggled out of Soupy’s reach and fist bumped Carter in agreement.
“That’s because you’re a plebe, rookie,” Soupy said. Then nudging Ash, “Right, Ash? Tell these two.”
Shaking his head, Ash smirked at them. “Not going to get involved. I’m just here for the food, not the company.”
“Jerk. This is why you’re the most boring, Ash,” Soupy said, disappointed. He lit up a few yards ahead, stopping them all. “There it is, just across the street. Be prepared to eat your words, boys.”
They crossed the street, and Carter was grateful they’d found the place. His fingers were frozen. He was always the worst about remembering to take gloves with him, even in Ottawa where it was, admittedly, much colder. The diner was one of those small, older hole-in-the-walls. It wasn’t going to win any prizes for decor, looking like it was forever stuck in the 60s, with wear and tear starting to show. It smelled inviting, though, and Carter’s stomach rumbled as he got a whiff of bacon as soon as they walked in.
The four of them grabbed a booth near the window. It was a tight fit, and it was even tighter with four grown hockey players squished together. They were given menus shortly after, and Carte
r’s mouth watered as he read through what was being offered. Three different kinds of bacon, sausages, pancakes, waffles—it all sounded great. It had been a while since he’d had such a greasy, delectable spread for breakfast, usually opting for a high protein shake of some sort and plain eggs, but Carter wasn’t going to pass this up.
Ash read his mind, because he said, “I won’t tell the coach if you guys won’t.” He grinned widely, leaning on the plush, if slightly worn, leather backing of the seat. The rest of the guys agreed heartily, loudly exclaiming about all the food they wanted to stuff in their mouths.
Soupy was particularly excited, but in the end, for all their talk of indulgence, they mostly grabbed a bunch of protein with a side helping of the home fries Soupy waxed poetic about. They liked to talk a big game, but at the end of the day, they were professional athletes. Eating cleanly was part of their job, even if they were allowed cheat days like this every now and then.
“What did I say about these home fries? Am I right or am I right?” Soupy said, smug.
Carter was about to reply when his phone vibrated. Taking it out of his pockets, he thumbed over the screen, unlocking it. It was a text from Luke. A picture of him and Puck loaded, Puck sitting peacefully at Luke’s side, tongue wagging excitedly.
Your dog, as usual, is excited about a bird. He’s lucky he’s cute because I don’t think there’s anything up there in his head, the caption said.
Laughing, Carter punched in a quick reply. Hey, don’t talk about my baby like that. He’s a smart, intelligent boy, thank you very much.
It didn’t take long for Luke to text again. I’ve yet to see evidence of this, but if you say so.
Carter thumbed through the picture again, stopping at Luke’s expression. Luke was smiling, his eyes alight, and Carter felt a warm feeling in his chest. It wasn’t a new feeling anymore, and if Carter was being honest with himself, the feeling kept cropping up whenever he’d get a new text from Luke.
