by Ava Thorpe
It made Carter stop in his tracks.
Did he want to kiss Luke?
Yes.
He shivered. There’d been a moment during dinner before Puck had interrupted them where Carter thought it could have happened. For the first time, he saw Luke looking back at him in a way that looked different, like he wanted something more, and Carter was disappointed nothing actually happened. Luke had the most kissable lips. They were plush, velvety red, and Carter wondered what they would feel like against his own.
“So? You really haven’t had any action recently?”
Carter shook his head, blinking back to the conversation at hand. “Nope. We’re not all playboys like you, you know,” he said. Jared had a reputation for being the love ‘em and leave ‘em kind, but in Jared’s defense, he was always up-front about things to women he went out with.
“Well, not everyone looks as good as me, so,” he said, preening, and Carter socked him gently on the stomach.
“See you tomorrow?” Carter said, as he unlocked his car. “Big game. Rivalry night and everything.”
“Fuck Toronto,” Jared said automatically.
Carter grinned at him. He wasn’t wrong. “Fuck Toronto,” he echoed.
Jared gave him a salute, and Carter returned the gesture before getting in his car. He was hoping the road back to the city was clear. If he was lucky, Luke and Puck’s walk would have just ended by the time he got home, and he’d be able to catch Luke.
The universe was paying attention, it seemed, because the roads were wide open, and it took Carter less time than usual to get home.
Opening the door to his unit, he was surprised at seeing the living room empty. Luke’s shoes were in the hallway, though, so Carter breathed a sigh of relief. Good, he didn’t just miss Luke, then.
“Luke?” he called into the room. “You here?”
There was a sound of rustling echoing through the condo. “In the bathroom,” Luke replied. “Puck was a bit, ah, overexcited today.”
Curious, Carter padded towards the bathroom, half-expecting the worst. What trouble could Puck have gotten into today? Then he saw them, Luke crouched down on the floor in front of the bathroom door, toweling Puck dry. Luke had dirt stains everywhere—on his shirt, on his cheek. It shouldn’t have been endearing, but Carter felt a swell of fondness come over him.
Luke looked cute, mud-covered and all.
“What happened?” Carter asked. He went to the linen closet adjacent to the bathroom and grabbed more towels.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave him all caked up in mud, so I gave him a wash and used some of your linens.” Luke looked like he felt guilty, and Carter didn’t understand why.
Carter toweled Puck along with Luke, and Puck licked his arm happily. “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. They’re just towels. It’s not even your job to clean him up.” If anything, Carter should be the one feeling guilty. This was above and beyond the call of walking his dog.
“He ran ahead of me, and jumped into a giant mud puddle. It wasn’t a good look,” Luke said. “It’s my fault, I didn’t react fast enough. He’s okay, though, mostly just damp. I cleaned off most of the mud.”
It made Carter happy knowing just how much Luke cared about his dog. “Thank you, seriously, you’re amazing. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I don’t mind,” Luke said, smiling. “Besides, this little guy seems to like bath time. Made it a lot easier to clean him up. I tried to wash the mud off the shower, and I think it should be mostly all clean.”
Carter waved him off. “Not a big deal, for real. I have someone coming tomorrow to clean anyway.” He felt a little embarrassed admitting he had cleaners coming in. He was an adult, he should be able to clean his own condo, but Kasia, his usual cleaner, did such a wonderful job. It made his life a lot easier, and he figured everyone was allowed to have an extravagance every now and then.
“Look at you, Mr. Big Shot hockey player, having a housekeeper,” Luke teased playfully. “I feel less bad for messing up your shower, then.” He stood up, and Carter saw the extent of the mess Puck had left on him.
Wincing, Carter said, “Want to change into some of my stuff? I should have things that fit you, it can’t be comfortable being in muddy clothes.”
“It’s okay, I was just going to head home. I don’t really have any plans, anyway, so being muddy isn’t really a problem,” Luke replied, a little bashful.
Carter finished toweling Puck off, and let him run into the living room. He was still a little damp, but he was mostly dry, and more importantly, clean. “You can hang out here for a while, then. Have you had lunch?”
Luke shook his head. “I was going to grab a shawarma on the way home.” He looked down at his shirt and made a face, like he was just seeing the full damage now. “You sure about hanging out? I don’t want to disrupt your routine or anything.”
“No, I want you to stay,” Carter assured him. He was tired, but there was no way he was going to pass up a night with Luke. The thought of sleeping was suddenly way less appealing. Seeing Luke, having Luke here—it revived him. “I have some frozen meals I can heat up while you shower? The least I can do is feed you and let you borrow my clothes after what Puck did to you.”
“Frozen meals, how romantic,” Luke said jokingly. He inspected his clothes, and Carter swallowed hard when a strip of Luke’s bare stomach was exposed as he raised up his shirt. “I mean, if you’re sure you don’t mind? My shirt is starting to get crusty. It would be nice to change into something cleaner.”
Carter cracked a smile. “These aren’t your average frozen meals, I promise. They’re pretty tasty,” he assured Luke. “And okay, let me grab you some clothes from my room. Why don’t you grab a towel from the linen closet and get in the shower?”
“You’re the best,” Luke said warmly. He squeezed Carter’s shoulder and grabbed a towel from the closet behind Carter. Entering the bathroom, he looked back at Carter. “Thanks, Carter.” His voice was soft, melodic, and there wasn’t anything Carter could do but nod in acknowledgment.
Once Luke was in the bathroom, Carter went to his room in search of clothes for him. He was a good fifty pounds, maybe more, heavier than Luke, but he was hoping a couple of his older things might fit him. Rummaging through his drawers, he found one of his shirts from Junior hockey. It had been a while since he’d worn it, and his physique had changed drastically since then. It might fit Luke.
Pants were a harder matter. It took some digging, but Carter found a pair of old sweatpants with drawstrings that might fit, so he put them aside along with the shirt.
Realizing his bed was unmade, Carter haphazardly tried his best to make his bed more presentable. He didn’t know why he was doing it—after all, it wasn’t like he was inviting Luke to his bed. Still, it made him feel self-conscious. Once his bed was less of a disaster zone, he placed the small pile of clothing he’d found for Luke on it.
“I have some clothes for you in my room. They’re on the bed,” Carter yelled through the bathroom door. He wasn’t sure if Luke would hear him, because the shower was running, but he thought he’d let him know, anyway.
A moment later, Luke muffled out a thank you, and Carter made his way to the kitchen. Taking two foil containers of chicken parmigiana out of the fridge, he preheated the oven. He wasn’t the best at cooking, but he was good at heating things up. Once the oven was up to temperature, he placed the two containers in and set the timer. He loved his frozen meals. They were delivered to him every week by a local chef. The food was always tasty, and they adhered to his strict nutritional plan.
He was thankful Ash had recommended them. He didn’t know how he’d survive without it. Carter would probably be gorging on chain restaurant takeout every night otherwise, unless he wanted to subsist solely on a diet of pasta and eggs.
He heard the bathroom door open, and Carter had to distract himself with Puck to avoid thinking about Luke in nothing but a towel. He could picture it clearly in his
head, though, water droplets sticking to Luke’s skin, the towel hugging his hips just so.
Puck barked at him loudly, interrupting his train of thought.
“Thanks, buddy,” he told him, torn between relief and frustration. He needed to focus on something else. He scratched Puck’s neck gently. “Did you eat yet, buddy?”
He craned to see Puck’s bowl, and saw that it was empty. Grabbing Puck’s dog food bag out of the counter, he poured some in Puck’s bowl. “There you go, bud, eat up.”
Puck was enthusiastic about his kibble, as always, and proceeded to thoroughly ignore Carter in favor of his food. Puck had two loves: kibble and Carter, and Carter was definitely second on the list.
“I wasn’t sure if there’d be anything of yours that’d fit me, but these are great. Thank you.” Luke stepped into the living room, and Carter wasn’t prepared for it.
He didn’t realize how much it would hit him to see Luke in his clothes. It felt almost primal, coiling in his gut, knowing that his last name was emblazoned on Luke’s back.
What the hell?
Carter had never experienced this before. He stared at Luke hungrily, struck by the way his old shirt clung to Luke’s form. It was still loose on him, but it hugged Luke in all the right places. The sweatpants were long on him, just a little, though somehow on Luke they managed to look amazing.
“I look like a kid playing dress up, don’t I?” Luke said lightly, grinning as he pulled on the shirt for show. “Victoria Eagles? What’s that?”
“My old Junior team. I played with them before I got drafted,” Carter said, his voice hoarse. He looked away, fiddling with the settings on the oven, just so he had something else to do with his hands. “You look good. Uh, fine, I mean.”
Luke sat on one of the bar chairs, leaning against the breakfast bar. “What smells good?”
“I remember you making a disparaging comment about frozen food,” Carter teased. “It’s chicken parmigiana. It’s pretty good.”
“Maybe I judged too early,” Luke said grudgingly before winking at Carter.
It didn’t take long for the food to heat up. Carter made up a plate for each of them, and they ate quietly at the breakfast bar, side by side, their thighs touching.
Carter was aware of every move Luke made, though he tried to focus on his plate. It was difficult, though, when Luke kept making pleased, happy noises at the back of his throat.
When they finished, they sat there for a moment in silence, Luke drumming his fingers on the counter. There was a crackle in the air, and Carter angled himself so that he had a full view of Luke. The afternoon sun was in full bloom, the light hitting Luke’s hair just right, and Carter had to stop himself from reaching out to touch.
There was a spot of marinara sauce on Luke’s right cheek, and this time, Carter wasn’t able to stop himself from reaching out to wipe the spot away. Luke looked at him in surprise.
“There was a—” Carter started to explain, but his words faded away. His hand still on Luke’s face, he ran his thumb over Luke’s cheek gently. “Luke, I—”
Carter didn’t know when Luke had moved closer, but their faces were only inches apart. Without thinking, he leaned in closer, and then, like a dream, he was kissing Luke.
He was kissing Luke. He was kissing a man.
To his complete surprise, Luke kissed him back, softly, gently, like Carter was about to break. Luke’s lips were warm and pliant under his.
Luke moaned into the kiss, Carter biting his lower lip, worrying at it as Luke’s hand cupped the back of Carter’s neck. Carter didn’t know how long they kissed, but they stayed like that for a while, locked together in a deep, searing kiss.
When they finally pulled apart, Luke was beaming at him, his blond hair falling perfectly over his face.
Carter didn’t know what to say. Stay with me. Kiss me again. Touch me. So many words swirled in his head. It was wonderful, confusing, and Carter didn’t know how to process it.
I want you, Carter wanted to say. Instead, he said, “I think you should go.”
Chapter Eleven
Luke
Luke barely slept that night. How could he, when he couldn’t stop thinking about Carter. He should forget about him—after all, Carter told him to leave.
After he’d kissed Luke.
God, he kissed Luke. It had been entirely unexpected and out of the realm of anything Luke thought could ever happen to him. But it did. Carter kissed him. It wasn’t just a peck, either. Carter kissed him like he needed air, like Luke was his lifeline.
He couldn’t forget the way Carter’s breath hitched as Luke kissed him back, couldn’t forget the way Carter clung to his shirt for purchase. The memory was burned in Luke’s mind like a brand.
There was no way Luke could forget about that, no matter how hard he tried.
But then Carter told him to leave. They pulled away from the kiss, and Carter froze, like he’d been struck with a spell. His whole countenance changed, and he told Luke to leave. Luke had tried to get Carter to talk to him, to get Carter to explain why he’d kissed Luke, but Carter wouldn’t have any of it.
He shut down completely and shut out Luke without another word.
It sucked.
Luke would be lying if he said it didn’t. For a brief, wondrous moment, he thought Carter felt the same way. Carter’s kiss told him everything he wanted to hear: lust, passion, sweetness. The kiss was even better than anything Luke could have imagined. Then it all went crumbling down, as Carter silently watched him walk out the door. He half expected Carter to call him back, to tell him he changed his mind, to tell him something, anything, but none of it came.
He walked out of Carter’s apartment without a single protest from the man.
Sighing, Luke rolled over to his side and grabbed his phone from the night stand. Heaving the blankets away, he sat up on the bed, his back against the headboard. Foolishly, he hoped Carter had texted him overnight. He’d sent Carter a text after he’d gotten home, and he went to bed disappointed, seeing no reply from Carter.
His stomach dropped when he saw that Carter still hadn’t replied.
No calls, no text, nothing. Radio silence.
Luke really shouldn’t have been surprised, but the silent treatment hurt anyway. Part of him wondered if he should just give up entirely. He thought about calling Marjorie and asking her to change his schedule so that he didn’t have to walk Puck, but that would mean giving up Puck, too. He liked Puck, and he’d gotten used to their walks together.
What was he supposed to do, though?
It was clear Carter didn’t want him.
Right?
“Your owner sucks, buddy,” he said sadly to Puck as he prepped Puck for the walk. Puck barked, wagging his tail excitedly. Luke sighed. “You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”
Walking Puck late that afternoon was hard. Carter had an afternoon game that day, and Luke almost didn’t come. He didn’t want to let Marjorie down, though, and it wasn’t fair of him to take out his hurt on an innocent puppy.
Being in Carter’s apartment was torture. It brought back the events of last night in clearer, more defined memories. Luke was glad he was taking Puck to a dog park. He needed distance, and a good walk was sure to help him clear his head.
He grabbed a bag of treats from under one of Carter’s kitchen cabinets and pocketed it. Puck was particularly excited about going outside, but that was Puck for you. His first love was the outdoors. The drive to Conroy Pit didn’t take long, and Puck was well-behaved, thankfully. Normally he’d whine a little about being cooped up in Luke’s truck, but he was quiet, panting happily as they breezed through the city streets.
When they got to Conroy Pit, Luke helped Puck out of the truck, adjusting his collar for him. They couldn’t go to the off-leash zone, but Luke had planned on jogging with Puck. He meant to get Carter to sign a release form to let Luke take Puck off-leash, but he never got to it. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to it now.
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br /> “Come on, buddy. I can’t have you running free, but this is a pretty good second option, right?” he said to Puck as he started to pick up his pace. He was dressed properly for a good jog, with his black track pants, blue hoodie, and running shoes. “I don’t know if I can keep up with you, but I’ll try.”
They jogged quietly for half an hour, before having to stop so Puck could do his business. Once Puck was done, Luke started to set off again, only to be stopped by another walker.
“He’s beautiful, how old is he? Still a pup?” the man asked, and Luke got a good, solid look at him. He was a little older than Luke, probably, and cute. Very cute, in that casual, just rolled out of bed looking like a model kind of way.
“Sort of, he’s just nearing two, I think,” Luke said politely. “I’m just his dog-walker.” Luke pulled on Puck’s lead, motioning for him to come closer. Puck inspected the other man’s dog enthusiastically, though it was apparent that the other dog didn’t want anything to do with him.
The other man laughed. “Aww, come on, Lola, be friendly.” He had a small bulldog, who looked entirely disinterested about the whole proceeding. “She’s normally not this standoffish.”
“It’s okay, we all have our days, eh?” Luke said lightly. He brushed Puck’s fur, and figured it was as good a time as any to give him a treat. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled a biscuit and fed it to Puck. Normally, he made Puck do his tricks before giving him a treat, but Luke didn’t have the energy for their usual song and dance. Puck, of course, wasn’t affronted, and happily took the treat from him.
The other man smiled at him warmly. He had striking green eyes, almost like emeralds. “So, I haven’t seen you around here much. Do you, uh, come here often?”
Luke cocked an eyebrow. “Do I come here often? Smooth,” he said, grinning.
The man was bashful. “Okay, admittedly, that was pretty bad. I just didn’t want you to go yet,” he admitted. “I’m Josh.” He held out his hand to Luke.
