by Ava Thorpe
“Holy shit, what happened to him?” Ben said beside him, and Luke didn’t know when Ben had creeped up over his shoulder.
He hid his phone on his chest. “A little privacy, Ben?” he said.
“Hey, you’re the one ignoring us with your phone,” Z said snarkily. “Come on, share with the class, Luke.”
Luke sighed, before he briefly flashed Z and Elaine his phone. “There, happy?” He turned off his phone’s display before pocketing it. “He got into a fight. Some hockey thing, I guess, I don’t know, I don’t understand it.”
“That’s kind of sexy,” Elaine said. “Very primal.”
“I don’t know if primal is what I would have called it,” Luke said, laughing. “Those bruises look awful. I’m sure they probably hurt like hell.”
“Clearly, you need to start from the beginning. How’d you even get involved with a hockey player?” Ben said.
“We’re not involved,” Luke protested, but Ben waved him off.
“Semantics,” Ben said. “We’re going to need more drinks. Sangrias, everyone?” Without waiting for everyone to respond, he called over the waiter.
Nate, the waiter, came over to their table shortly. Placing his hand at the back of Luke’s chair, Nate stood by Luke. He was standing close, and Luke could see the sparkle of Nate’s eyeliner. “What can I get you guys?” Nate asked.
“A pitcher of sangria, I think,” Ben said. “Thank you.”
“Will do,” Nate said. He tapped on Luke’s shoulder. “And you, handsome? Can I get you anything?” He stared at Luke intently, his eyes twinkling.
Luke should flirt with the guy, show him a little more interest, but all he could manage was a weak smile. “No, thank you. The sangria’s fine.” He kept thinking about Carter’s bruises, his mind focused on the hockey player entirely.
Nate blinked. “Oh, uh, okay. Maybe next time.” He flashed Luke a toothy grin. “Sangria, coming right up.”
Their sangria came within minutes, and Luke spent the next hour telling his friends the story about Carter. It turned out his friends weren’t exactly very helpful, because all of them told him to give it a shot and tell Carter how he felt.
What disastrous advice. Tell Carter how he felt?
Why would he do that?
“What do you have to lose?” Elaine asked as they were finishing their drinks.
Everything, Luke thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t want Carter to hate him. Their friendship was blossoming, and admitting his feelings for Carter would ruin all of that. It was a lot to lose, and there was no way Luke was going to put himself out there like that.
They ended up staying for a couple more hours, and Luke tried to change the subject to something else. Fortunately for him, it worked, and they spent the next little while making fun of Ben and his attempts at subtlety with his new neighbor.
“She’s really cute,” he’d said, protesting. “What was I supposed to do?”
Around close to midnight, Luke felt exhaustion come over him. Yawning, he stretched his arms. “I think I’m beat, guys,” he said to the table.
“So much for an all night rager, Cinderella,” Z teased, but she looked tired, too. “God, is this what getting old is like?”
Luke squeezed her arm in commiseration. The older Luke got, the harder it was for him to stay up late drinking. Gone was the all night partying of freshman year, that was for sure.
When they were paying their bill, Z stopped Luke just as he was about to leave his receipt on the table. “There’s something on your receipt,” she said.
Picking it up again, Luke stared at it closer.
613-555-7117
Call me, handsome.
- Nate
He blushed, folding the piece of paper and stuffing it in his jacket. Then, out of habit, he checked his phone for any new messages. There was one from Carter.
Hope you’re having a better night than I am.
“You gonna call him?” Z asked as she was putting on her coat. She must have thought he was adding Nate’s number to his contact list.
“Yeah, why not,” Luke lied. He knew he wasn’t going to call Nate. Maybe a month ago, he would have. Nate seemed like a fun guy, someone Luke could have grown to really like. But now? Now it wouldn’t be fair to Nate, not when Luke was completely, utterly wrecked by Carter.
His phone vibrated again with another text from Carter. Good night. I’ll see you when I get back to Ottawa.
Before Luke could change his mind, he typed back, Sweet dreams, Carter.
Luke was so, so screwed.
Chapter Eight
Carter
The team landed in Ottawa mid-afternoon after the short flight from New York. Carter didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. He had expected one of the coaches to pull him aside after the game against New York, and it had been all he could do to stop himself from picking up the phone and calling Luke. Luke always made him feel better. As close as they were becoming, it still would have been weird if he spilled all of his fears to Luke, so he contented himself with just a few texts.
It worked, and Luke helped distract him from the anxiety he was feeling.
The dressing down never came, though. Sure, the whole team got a reaming after the game; after all, Coach Lacasse wasn’t happy with their performance. How could she be? They lost 5-2, and even worse, the game was peppered with undisciplined penalties, Carter’s dumb fighting major penalty included.
It was a shit show all around.
“Cartsy, wait a second,” Coach Lacasse called after him, as they got off the plane, and Carter’s throat seized up.
Shit. It was coming, then, the reprimand Carter had been expecting.
He stopped in his tracks. “Yeah, Coach, what’s up?”
“Let’s see your face,” she said, motioning for him to turn his face back and forth so she could get a better look.
Surprisingly, his face didn’t hurt all that much. “It’s not too bad. Was pretty gnarly yesterday, but I think icing it helped a lot,” he said slowly, expectantly.
She pursed her lips, nodding. She started to walk to the terminal. “Good, walk with me a bit,” she said. “And relax, won’t you? Every time I talk to you, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
Carter breathed deeply, trying to let go of his growing anxiety. He followed her lead, rolling his suitcase behind him. “Sorry, Coach. Force of habit.”
“I told you earlier that you were staying for the rest of the season. One bad game isn’t going to change that, okay?” she said, matter-of-fact. “But you know what I’m about to tell you, right?”
“No, Coach,” Carter said, his chest loosening when he heard the coach say he wasn’t getting sent down. Thank fucking god.
“You know I’m not against fighting. Fighting is a part of hockey,” she started. “But that fight was bullshit, and you know it. You know what my biggest problem about it was?”
They were cleared by customs and immigration earlier in the plane, so they were able to breeze right through the airport and skip the line at immigration. It was one of the perks of flying with a charter.
“No, Coach,” he said again.
“You let Gleeson get to you. You let him wind you up, instead of showing him up where it matters. His goal the entire game was to throw you off yours, and he won,” Coach said firmly. “You hearing what I’m saying here?”
He did hear her. “Absolutely,” Carter assured her. She was right. He fell right into Gleeson’s trap, hook, line and sinker. “I’ll try not to let it happen again, Coach. I should have been more, I don’t know, self-aware, but Gleeson’s a giant bag of shit.” Immediately, he regretted what he said, coloring. He shouldn’t have been so obvious with his distaste for Gleeson.
Coach Lacasse laughed. “I’m sure he is, but you’re going to meet a lot more guys who are a—what was it you said? Ah, ‘giant bag of shit’. You can’t let them get to you. If you’re going to fight, I want it to be for a good reason, unde
rstood?”
“Understood,” Carter promised.
They caught up with the team, and Coach Lacasse clapped him on the back. “Keep icing that face, Welling. I expect you at practice in two days,” she said, before leaving him for the other coaches.
So he wasn’t fired after all.
Carter really thought he was done for after his performance. He walked up to Jared, saying goodbye to him and the rest of his teammates, before wheeling his suitcase to the parking lot where his truck was waiting. There was a spring in his step as he got into his truck.
He was just relieved.
With the monkey off his back, Carter felt a lot more excited going into the next two days. They had their mandated off days coming up—the first two in a row in what seemed like ages—and Carter felt a lot lighter going into it. He was glad he didn’t need to spend his days off agonizing over what happened in New York. He couldn’t wait to go home.
Maybe he’d catch Luke, too, if he was lucky.
He’d been thinking about Luke all road trip long, loathe as he was to admit it. He didn’t know why he couldn’t get Luke out of his head.
It was weird.
It was almost like he was...drawn to Luke, like he was caught in a net that he couldn’t get out of, or even want to get out of. Carter couldn’t remember ever feeling like this about another guy before, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this fixated on a woman.
Did that mean he was attracted to Luke?
He would be lying if he said Luke wasn’t a good-looking guy. He could see that plainly with his eyes. Luke was gorgeous in a way that sometimes took his breath away. When Luke smiled, Carter lost the ability to speak, his heart beating wildly out of his chest.
It was confusing as fuck.
Did that make him bisexual?
Carter gripped his steering wheel hard, laughing tonelessly. Leave it to him. Twenty-two was a little late to have a sexual crisis, wasn’t it?
Did Luke even like guys? Carter didn’t know. He had seen the way Luke sometimes glanced at him, though, and a part of him hoped that Luke was interested. In him.
Carter shook the thought away. Even if Luke was attracted to him, even if Luke also liked guys, what would it matter?
He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what to do with his…feelings.
Before he knew it, he was at his condo. He parked in his spot, before jogging towards the elevator. He unlocked the door to his unit, and was greeted with the sight of Luke feeding Puck.
Suddenly, his day felt just that little bit brighter.
“Eat up, buddy. I know you’re sad, but Carter will be home soon,” Luke said to Puck. It was clear he didn’t hear the door open.
Carter swallowed thickly before clearing his throat. “Hey,” he greeted, giving Luke a small smile.
Luke looked up at him, smiling back. His eyes were sparkling, and Carter found himself wanting to get lost in them. “You’re home! How’s your face?”
Leaving his suitcase in the hallway, Carter walked to where Luke and Puck were in his kitchen. Luke looked especially good today, wearing a knitted grey sweater with a v-neck that exposed his collarbones. His hair wasn’t gelled like normal, and it framed his face beautifully.
“Ah, it’s nothing,” Carter said casually.
Luke didn’t look convinced. He searched Carter’s face, going on his tip toes to get a better look at the bruises. Wincing, Luke gingerly touched the side of Carter’s face, where a bruise formed over his cheekbones. Carter was taken aback by how electric it felt, and it made him want to touch Luke back.
“This looks pretty bad,” Luke said, before pulling his hand back and stuffing both hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have touched.” Luke looked shy all of a sudden, his eyes averting from Carter.
“No, really, it’s okay. It looks worse than it actually feels,” Carter said reassuringly. They were standing really close, just inches away from each other, and Carter couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to close the gap between them, what it would be like to wrap his arms around Luke.
God, he was a goner.
Puck barked between them, obviously not happy with the lack of attention coming his way. He was such a spoiled brat. Carter crouched down to his level, ruffling Puck’s thick fur. “Did you miss me, baby? Were you a good boy for Luke?” He felt silly calling his dog pet names, but he loved the little guy. He was the closest thing to a child Carter was going to have for a long, long time.
Luke giggled, and Carter mentally filed the sound away in his head. It was cute, and he vowed to make Luke giggle more in the future.
“He was mostly good,” Luke said. “Mostly.”
Carter cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh? What happened?”
“Did you notice the lack of rug in the entry way?” Luke said. He patted Puck’s head. “This little guy decided that the rug tasted better than kibble. When I got in to walk him early yesterday morning, there were rug pieces all over the living room.”
Looking at Puck sternly, Carter admonished him. “That was my favorite rug, Puck, bad. Very bad.”
It wasn’t actually his favorite, in fact, Carter couldn’t remember if that rug was something he brought with him or if it came with the condo.
“Was it really?” Luke wrinkled his nose. “I mean, cleaning it up wasn’t great, but it was kind of ugly.”
Carter laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, it really was, wasn’t it? Maybe that’s why this one decided to destroy it,” he said. “And you didn’t have to clean it up. God, I’m sorry—you should have just left it.”
“He would have eaten it all if I left it, it’s fine. I tried to clean it up as best as I could in the hallway, but Puck may have dragged some of the pieces around, so just watch out for them.”
Waving him off, Carter scratched under Puck’s neck. “Thank you, seriously, I appreciate it. I’m sorry this idiot gave you trouble.”
“No, no, I told you, it’s fine. No trouble at all,” Luke said, his voice soft. “I—I should probably go. You must be tired, I’m sure you want to just veg.”
Carter looked up at him. “I was just going to catch up on some Netflix, to be honest,” he said. Then, before he lost his resolve, “What are you up to? Want to hang out for a bit?”
Luke looked conflicted, and Carter almost took his invitation back. Of course Luke wouldn’t want to hang out outside of working hours. He shouldn’t have assumed.
“I was just going to go over some notes for a course—it’s exam season next week,” Luke said. “But I’ve been studying almost every other waking moment I’ve had, so a break would be good. What are you going to watch?”
Carter felt happiness wrap around him. “You sure? I don’t want to interrupt your study flow or whatever.”
“Nah, I only have two exams this semester, and one of them’s a performance,” Luke assured him. “It would be nice. To, uh, hang out, I mean.”
“Definitely,” Carter said. He was excited to hang out with Luke. While they’d been texting each other a lot for a while now, they had never had the chance to just chill together. They talked here and there whenever Carter would catch the tail end of Luke and Puck’s walks, but it wasn’t enough.
Leading them to the living room, Carter sat down on the couch, waiting expectantly for Luke to join him. Luke took the other end of the couch, and Carter privately wished Luke had snuggled up closer beside him.
“Your TV is massive, it must have cost a fortune,” Luke said. “I’ve always wanted one of these, but our apartment is way too small. Plus, none of my roommates really watch TV, so it would just be me. Anyway, what did you have in mind?” Luke was almost rambling, and it was adorable.
Carter still wasn’t used to having this much disposable income. He didn’t know what to do with his money; for the most part, he just stashed his paychecks away in his bank account. “It wasn’t too bad. It was really the only
thing I bought for this place. It came furnished, minus the TV,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t really have anything in mind. I was going to catch some of the highlights of the weekend games, and then just pick whatever from Netflix.”
“Want to see a highlight reel of your fight, huh?” Luke said teasingly.
Oh, god, that did sound quite conceited, didn’t it? “No, no, not my fight. I haven’t seen the footage, but I’m sure it was pretty bad. I meant more the western conference games. I don’t often get to catch them,” Carter explained.
“It looked worrying more than bad,” Luke said. “I mean, anyway, so you still watch hockey games even if you play in them? That seems like a lot. You don’t get tired of it?”
Luke saw his fight? Carter stretched out his arm over the back of the couch. “You saw it?” he asked. Did that mean Luke had been following his games?
Luke’s cheeks turned pink. “We live in Ottawa, they’re always playing highlights of the Admirals on TV,” he said, but Carter could tell he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. “It looked intense.”
“I don’t know if intense is the right word. It was infuriating, more like.” Carter turned on his PlayStation and navigated to the Netflix app. “Want to pick?” He tossed the controller to Luke.
Luke caught it deftly and held the controller in his hand. “You looked like you hated the guy.”
“He’s an asshole. Always has been, even when we were younger. We’ve been playing against each other since we were in grade school. He was in the local hockey system in Victoria, too, and the guy’s always played dirty.”
Luke turned to the TV, scrolling through the list of movies and shows available. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt too badly,” he said softly. “I don’t understand fighting. It seems so out of place, especially in professional sports.”
Carter grinned. “It’s a contentious topic, I don’t blame you.” He scooted closer towards the middle of the couch. “I’m not actually big on it. I think I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been in a fight on the ice, and I’ve been playing hockey since I was four.”
