by Ava Thorpe
It was like Luke made his day brighter, shinier, and Carter had grown to look forward to each and every message.
“Ooh, who’s that, new girlfriend?” Jared said, ribbing his side. “Your face went all gooey.”
Girlfriend? Carter made a face. He couldn’t imagine Luke as a girl. Luke was...great just the way he was. “Nah, just a friend. My dog-walker, actually. He just sent me a picture of my dog.” He quickly flashed his phone to the table.
“Oh, a friend, that’s cool,” Ash said simply, and Carter wasn’t sure if he liked Ash’s tone. There was something about it he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Jared also looked pensive, and Carter wondered if there was something big he missed. It was probably nothing, but Carter felt the need to defend Luke, anyway. “Yeah, he’s a pretty cool guy,” Carter said cautiously. He didn’t know what his teammates had against dog-walkers, and it was even weirder, because Jared was the one who recommended Paws and Claws to begin with. “It’s good to know Puck’s in good hands while I’m away.”
Ash nodded, not saying anything more. He changed the subject, bringing up the team they were playing that night, and they ate the rest of their meal comfortably, talking about all the ways they needed to exploit their opponent.
Carter had easily forgotten Ash’s weirdness, until they got back to their hotel. Soupy waved them off, saying he needed to nap out the home fries, and Jared readily agreed, following him to the elevator. Ash pulled him aside, though, before Carter could say his own goodbye.
“You know you could talk to me about stuff, right?” Ash said seriously, looking at Carter with intent.
Carter was confused. Of course he knew that, but there wasn’t really anything he needed to speak to Ash about. “Yes?”
Ash continued, “Good, because for real. This locker room is a safe space, and I’m here if you need someone to talk to. About anything.” He looked so earnest, like he was about to give some kind of afternoon special, and Carter didn’t know how to reply to him.
“Okay? I mean, I really appreciate it,” Carter said slowly. “You’ve been so welcoming. I will definitely keep that in mind.”
Ash nodded sharply before giving him a small smile. “All right, I’ll see you at skate later? Go sleep off that bacon, or Coach Lacasse will kill us if we slow down.” He patted Carter’s shoulder before heading towards the gym. Of course Ash was going to go work out.
He thought back to what Ash had said. That was weird, but Ash was often weird, so Carter shook it off.
Carter punched the elevator button. He needed a quick nap after that meal. He’d work out after, right before skate this afternoon, so his muscles could have a chance to warm up before hitting the ice. In the elevator, he turned on his phone again, pulling up the picture Luke sent him.
He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to look at the picture again, but he couldn’t stop staring at Luke’s face, couldn’t help but notice the lines around Luke’s eyes as he beamed widely at the camera.
Carter wondered what the other guys saw in his face earlier to make them assume the picture had been of a girlfriend, instead of Luke. What he felt for Luke was confusing, but he couldn’t deny that he’d never felt like this for anyone before, not even towards a woman.
He looked forward to hearing from Luke so much, in an overly excited, eager way that he couldn’t ascribe to anyone else.
Then it dawned on him. Did Ash think he was…did the other guys really think Luke was his…
It was silly, right? They couldn’t have thought that he was dating Luke.
Dating Luke would be…Carter didn’t have a word for it.
He felt his heart beating faster.
He slid his phone back in his pocket. He needed to shut off his brain. He had a game to focus on tonight. He needed to make sure he was in prime form.
The game was a shit show from the moment they stepped onto the ice. The New York team played dirty, and it was starting to needle at the team. Everyone was tense, angry, and they were getting sloppy.
Carter was especially sloppy.
One of the guys from New York, Gleeson, made it his mission in life to follow Carter around. He played against Gleeson back in Junior, and there wasn’t any love lost between them. Getting drafted in the first round certainly didn’t help Gleeson’s ego, that much was for sure.
“Surprised you’re still here and not back in that shithole minors team you belong in,” Gleeson said, checking Carter hard to the boards.
It hurt like hell, and his muscles screamed at him for reprieve, but this was hockey. There was no reprieve, and there was no choice but to fight through the hurt.
It didn’t end there. Gleeson took every opportunity to get in cheap shots against Carter. A high stick, crosscheck, tripping—none of it was noticed by the refs.
Carter was incensed, and his cool was quickly evaporating. Worse yet, they were losing. The score was 2-1, favoring New York, and none of their shots were going in.
“Scrub like you shouldn’t even be here. When’s the last time you scored, Welling?” Gleeson said derisively during a faceoff. “Can’t fight, can’t score, can’t skate. What the fuck are you good for, you pathetic little cocksucker?”
Carter couldn’t think. He just saw red. Dropping his gloves, he swung at Gleeson, laying out all of his frustrations in the hit. The two of them tumbled to the ice, fists flying, and Carter lost track of the game. It was like everything around him faded out of view—the refs, his teammates, his coaches—it was just him and Gleeson. Gleeson got a good, solid hit to his jaw, and it felt like fire, his face pounding. He was able to recover, though, and got a couple of good hits himself, until he was wrenched away from Gleeson by one of the linesmen.
“Both of you, to the box. Enough, boys, enough,” the linesman said firmly, loudly.
Wiping the blood coming from his lip, Carter skated towards the penalty box. “Who can’t fight now, dirt bag?” he yelled through the glass to Gleeson, who just looked at him smugly. Carter was still fuming, Gleeson’s words ringing in his ears. Can’t fight. Can’t score. Cocksucker.
Then the arena went wild, their cheers deafening.
New York had scored while Carter sat in the box.
He looked across the ice, to where his teammates sat dejectedly, and saw Coach Lacasse’s face. She wasn’t happy, her lips pursed, eyebrows tightly knit together in anger.
Carter’s penalty just allowed the other team to score.
Fuck.
Chapter Seven
Luke
It took a couple of weeks before Luke actually went out with Zarwah, and Luke was antsy. Zarwah cancelled on him at the last minute, and it was only now that their schedules had finally matched up. Luke was relieved. Maybe now, he would be able to find a nice, gorgeous boy who could distract him from his current predicament.
He wanted to get Carter out of his system, but the opposite happened. Now, it seemed like all he thought about was Carter. Their texts were increasingly becoming an addiction for him.
It sucked.
Luke couldn’t remember the last time he had a crush on a straight boy. It was as awful as he remembered, and he needed to get over Carter now. He felt stupid, hanging on Carter’s every word, every text, but he couldn’t help it. The more Carter texted him, the more he got to know him. The more he got to know him, the more Luke realized that Carter was great. Amazing, even, and it killed him to know there was this super hot, incredibly kind guy out there who talked to him every day, and Luke couldn’t have him.
Luke was wrong. So, so completely wrong, because Carter did fit his list. Carter ticked every item on his list easily. Except it didn’t change the fact that Carter was still straight.
It didn’t matter that Carter was perfect for him, not if Carter wasn’t interested in him.
Sometimes he thought about switching his shifts at Paws and Claws and dropping Puck as a client, but he liked walking Puck. He also didn’t want to give Marjorie extra work in having to find a replacem
ent for him, now that they’d hit some kind of perfect balance between their schedules. Plus, the extra money had been great. It was hard to give it all up.
If he was being honest, it was hard to give Carter up.
He needed to get over his crush by brute force.
He turned on his laptop, putting on a pump up playlist on Spotify. He liked to play Avicii when he wanted a pick me up, and it always lifted his mood. Looking at the mirror, he adjusted his tight, black shirt. He didn’t look half bad, if he could say so himself. The fabric of the shirt clung to him in all the right places, accentuating his flat stomach and narrow waist. He was wearing his ‘fuckboy’ jeans, as Z had come to term them, and they hugged his ass fantastically. He would never look like a model, but Luke thought he looked attractive enough, with his blond hair artfully tousled away from his face.
Grabbing his keys from the dresser near his door, he waved at Tessa when he saw her in the living room.
She whistled, standing up to get a better view of him. “Well don’t you look fancy,” she said. “You look like you’re about to go in for the kill.”
Luke grinned. “Thanks, that’s what I’m aiming for,” he replied. He wondered if Carter would like what he was wearing. He killed the errant thought in his head. Thinking about Carter was the complete antithesis of the night’s purpose. “You staying in tonight?”
Shaking her head, Tessa adjusted the collar of his shirt. “There, better,” she said. “And no, the boyfriend is coming to pick me up in a bit. You’ll have the house to yourself.” She winked at him lasciviously. Jay was back at home for the weekend, and Tessa usually spent the night at her boyfriend’s apartment.
It wasn’t that Luke was counting on them to be away, but he was happy he was going to get some privacy. Privacy was hard to come by sometimes in an apartment with three people.
“Say hi to the boyfriend for me,” Luke said. Spotting his phone on the coffee table, he swiped it and slid it in his pocket. He grabbed his jacket from the coat closet, and with a last wave back at Tessa, he exited their apartment, stepping into the freezing cold Ottawa night.
Shrugging on his jacket, he zipped it up quickly, hoping for some warmth. It wasn’t a long walk to where he needed to go. He was meeting Zarwah at a gay bar they frequented in the market. She was bringing a couple of their mutual friends, and Luke was glad Zarwah was much more organized than he was. He never even thought about inviting other people, but he was happy Z did. He liked Ben and Elaine. For engineering people, they weren’t too bad.
The bar was full of people, and Luke was immediately hit with hot air as he walked in. Blue lights illuminated the center of the bar, and Luke immediately spotted Zarwah and the group. He was the last one to arrive, to his surprise. Normally, Z was always late.
“Took you long enough, Luke,” Zarwah said when he reached the table. She was drinking a martini, some kind of pink concoction, and Luke decided he wanted one as well.
“Yeah, yeah, the one time I’m late, you give me shit for it,” Luke complained easily. He gave her a hug, before doing the same to Ben and Elaine.
Luke caught the eye of a waiter, and he gave his drink order. “Whatever she’s having,” he said, pointing to Zarwah’s drink. “And a water, please.” He was parched, the humidity in the room getting to him.
“Sure thing, sunshine,” the bartender said. He winked at Luke coyly, before leaving their table. Luke studied his leaving form. The bartender was pretty cute. He was a little taller than Luke, with dark brown hair. He had a streak of blue in his hair that matched the apron he was wearing. He was the complete opposite of Carter. He didn’t have Carter’s wide, broad shoulders or Carter’s doe-eyed brown eyes.
“He’s cute, eh?” Zarwah whispered conspiratorially.
Luke rolled his eyes. She wasn’t exactly discreet. “Sure,” he said, non-committal. Then his phone vibrated against his jeans. Sliding through his notifications, he saw an update about the Admirals.
#58 Carter Welling gets a five minute penalty for fighting with Sam Gleeson.
Carter got into a fight on the ice?
His stomach clenched. Luke wasn’t sure how a fight worked on the ice. He’d been watching some of the Admirals’ games, but to be honest, he still didn’t quite understand the nuances of hockey. It sounded bad, though, and his first instinct was to send Carter a consolatory text message.
Except that would mean admitting that he’d been following the Admirals, and well, would that make things weird?
Luke began typing a couple of messages, but he kept deleting them, not satisfied with how his words sounded. He decided against the text message. Maybe Carter would bring it up to him later.
Luke should just delete the hockey app on his phone, anyway. It was a little creepy to be following news feeds of his friend, but then, tons of hockey fans did it, too, from what he’d gathered. What made him different from them?
“What are you looking at?” Z asked curiously.
Caught. Luke tried to play it off casually. “Nothing important.”
“Uh huh, try again, pal.” Zarwah pointed to Luke’s phone. “Spill. Something’s totally up.”
“Honestly, it’s just...whatever, you know?” Luke said, hoping Z would drop it. This was Z, though—he didn’t have high hopes.
With a perfectly arched brow, Z replied, “Care to show us what you were looking at on your phone, then? Come on, Luke, share.”
Luke put his phone away before Zarwah decided to take it away from him. He was willing to tell his friend about his dumb crush, but he didn’t want her to know the pathetic lows he’d sunk to. “Like I said, it’s just, I don’t know, whatever. There’s a guy, it’s not going to go anywhere, and I need to forget all about him,” he said in rush. “Hence, this.” He gestured around the room for show. That was the whole point of going out, anyway—to find someone else and forget about Carter.
“Why isn’t it going to go anywhere? I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Ben said, frowning. He drank his beer, his face scrunching. “This is awful.”
Luke snorted. “You’re drinking Labatt’s, of course it’s awful. We need to get you onboard into some local IPAs. Much better than that swill you’re drinking.”
“You’re hedging,” Elaine sing-songed, clinking her cocktail with Zarwah’s. They looked way too smug to be Luke’s friends.
He sighed. “I’m not seeing anyone. I told you guys, it’s nothing—”
The waiter arrived with his drink, interrupting his train of thought. The man gave Luke a devilish smile. “Here you go, just let me know if there’s anything I can get you. Anything.” His body language was flirty.
“Oh, I definitely will,” Luke said feebly. He should flirty back, probably, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Carter’s fight. Was Carter okay? Was Carter hurt? Sighing, he read the tag on the man’s chest. “Thanks, Nate.”
“Anytime, handsome,” Nate said before heading to another table.
Zarwah tapped on the table, grabbing Luke’s attention. “Well? Don’t leave us hanging.”
Rolling his eyes, Luke took a sip of his martini. Not bad. It was a little fruitier than he normally preferred, but it went down well. “I was busy,” he said emphatically. “And I already said, it’s nothing. The guy’s not interested, and there’s no point in pining over someone not available.”
Ben leaned in. “Is he married? He’s married, isn’t he? How illicit.”
Luke tapped him on the head. “No, he’s not married. Christ, Ben.”
“Partner?” Ben pushed.
Shaking his head, Luke downed his cocktail in one go. He needed more alcohol for this conversation. “Not that I know of,” he admitted.
“Wait, is this about hockey player guy?” Zarwah asked, eyes gleaming.
Elaine clapped her hands excitedly. “There’s a hockey player guy? I didn’t know you went for sports ball people, Luke,” she said. “So we have a single hockey player—what’s the problem then?”
Luke cro
ssed his arms. “He’s straight? I’d say that’s a pretty big problem,” he said finally. His friends were such gossips. He knew they’d be relentless, though he didn’t really mind. In a way, it was kind of good to finally talk about Carter to someone else. Maybe his friends would have useable advice about how to deal with his feelings.
Z turned to Elaine. “He’s lying, that guy is totally not straight. We ran into him while we were walking the dogs, and the way he looked at Luke...please.”
“Don’t listen to her, El, she’s delusional,” Luke said. Thanks a lot, Z. Z was supposed to help him get over Carter, not feed his fantasy. He felt his phone vibrate in his jeans, and he pulled it out deftly.
I’m pretty sure I’m about to get fired, Carter texted.
Quickly, Luke texted a reply. He was so relieved to hear from Carter. If he was being honest, a part of him felt thrilled that Carter texted him so quickly after the game. You’re a hockey player, I thought you had contracts. How do firings even work?
I fucked up big time and all I have to show for it is a big fat lip, Carter sent him. Then a second later, another text appeared. It was a picture of Carter, and Luke almost dropped his phone. Carter was shirtless, a dark bruise forming on his right cheek. He was frowning, his bottom lip ruptured, and Luke wanted to lick the wound away. There was a black mark growing right under Carter’s left eye, looking garish and ugly in the light.
Luke wanted to kill that Gleeson guy.
But mostly, he wanted to touch Carter, to trace the bruises and kiss each of them better. Fingers shaking, he texted back, You okay? Those don’t look too good...
Carter sent him another picture. This time, it was of Carter giving him a thumbs up, a wry smile on his face. I’m fine, you should see the other guy. My job, though, I’m not sure that’s so fine.
