Chapter Two

 

 

RILEY SAW Ethan immediately, sprawled out on a bench with a small pile of stuff next to him on the curb. He looked half asleep, but when Riley got out of the car, he jumped right up, grinned, and tackled Riley with a rambunctious hug. “Hey. Oh man, Hunter. Thanks for coming to get me. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Next time, if you let me know sooner, I can pick you up closer to when you actually get here,” Riley joked, helping Ethan throw his stuff into the back of the CR-V.

Ethan shrugged, all smiles, and climbed into the passenger seat. He smelled like cigarettes, and it should probably be annoying or gross, but it wasn’t.

“Nice haircut,” Riley teased, starting the car. “Going for the low-maintenance thing?”

“Nah.” Ethan grinned over at him. “I just hate it when guys pull my hair in a fight.”

Riley laughed. “Gotcha.” He headed out of the airport, which wasn’t very busy, given the hour. “How was your summer?”

“It was cool. Hung out with movie stars. Partied with supermodels.” Ethan yawned and stretched, making the tattoos on his arms move like fluid things. They were bright and colorful, and a lot of them looked like Irish symbolism. “You?”

“I went to a few goalie camps and trained a lot,” Riley said, wondering if he should get a tattoo. Ethan’s looked cool, but Ethan was a lot cooler than Riley, in general.

“Dude, was that a serious answer? Because mine was bullshit. Mostly I just hung out with my family and went to a lot of weddings and baby showers.”

“Weddings and baby showers?” Riley glanced at him as he pulled onto the highway. “Is that a weird hobby of yours or something?”

Ethan snorted. “Kind of. My family’s Irish Catholic,” he explained. “So yeah. Lots of weddings and babies. Rowdy funerals, but luckily none of those this summer.”

“All your family is in New York?” Riley liked Ethan’s accent. He sounded like he walked right off a movie set about gangsters from the nineteen twenties.

“Pretty much. My mom, me, and my two sisters grew up with a lot of extended family. And they’re all girls, man. Like, I’m not even kidding.” Ethan shook his head. “That’s why I love hockey. I get to hang out with other guys.” He grabbed his phone. “Shit. I should let them know I got here all right. My phone’s dead. You got a charger or something?”

“No, but you can borrow mine if you want,” Riley offered. He pushed his phone over at Ethan, who pressed about a thousand buttons and muttered before he finally got to the keypad.

Riley watched the road, but he was unabashedly listening to Ethan’s conversation with his mother.

“Ma? Hi. Yeah, I’m here. No, no. Don’t call the Coast Guard. Why would you do that? Just because it’s Florida? I don’t think it works that way. My phone died, that’s why.” Ethan paused, banging his head back against the seat. “I left it at home. This is Riley’s phone. Yeah. The goalie. The guy I lived with last year?” Another pause. “I will. I will, Ma. Geez.”

Ethan turned toward him. “My mom says to thank you for picking me up at the last minute, since I was irresponsible and didn’t get a ride arranged ahead of time.”

“Tell her it’s cool. And hey, if you still need a roommate, my place is furnished and has two bedrooms,” Riley suggested, trying for casual.

“Yeah? You hear that, Ma? Now I got a roommate too. Yes, I’ll buy groceries. Yeah. I—” Ethan sighed again, very dramatically. “I’m twenty-four, Ma. Why do you keep saying that? Peanut butter and jelly is fine, by the way. Kelsey ate it her whole life, and she’s gonna be a NASA scientist. So see? Good enough for me.”

Riley wondered what it was like to have a family like that—who actually cared enough to yell at you about things. And when was the last time he ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

“Can you tell Kelsey and Britt that I’m here? Thanks.” Ethan’s voice went all warm. “Yeah, yeah. I miss you guys too. I get those flight e-mail things you signed me up for, so I’ll let you know if I see any cheap ones. You guys could come see a game.” Ethan gave a bright, happy laugh. “Your hockey superstar son, right. Keep on thinking that, Ma. And of course I’ll give you my new address. You gotta send me a birthday card with some money in it.”

Riley could go anywhere he wanted in his family’s plane, as long as no one else was using it. And here Ethan wanted to see his family, and couldn’t. Maybe he could find some way to help Ethan out sometime. Pretend Ethan won tickets, maybe?

“Your sister Kelsey is an astronaut?” Riley asked when Ethan was off the phone.

“Not yet, but give her a few years,” Ethan said dryly. “She’s so smart it freaks me out. She thinks about stuff like, where did the universe come from?” He made a helpless gesture. “Who even does that? But yeah. She’s going to get a scholarship to college, which is great.” His voice was filled with pride. “And she’s beautiful too. If she comes to a game, I will beat up anyone who looks at her like she’s a real girl and not my sister. Including you, Riles.”

“Good to know.” Riley was thirsty, so he took the exit for a twenty-four-hour McDonalds. “You want anything?” he asked Ethan as he pulled behind the one other car in the drive-through.

“Oh, umm.” Ethan shook his head. “Nah. That’s all right.”

“Are you sure? We have two and a half hours left of this drive. You were waiting for three hours. You don’t even want a soda or something?”

Ethan wasn’t looking at him. He was pretending to be searching in his bag. “No. It’s fine. I spent all my change on a magazine at the airport. My impulse control sucks, dude.”

Riley rolled his window down. “Come on. What do you want? You’re making this really difficult, Kennedy.”

“Fine. Geez. Just get me whatever you’re having.” Ethan ducked his head, looking a little embarrassed. “I can put it on my first rent check. Along with some gas money for picking me up. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s—” Riley startled as the voice from the intercom asked him, a little sternly, for his order. Like maybe this wasn’t the first time. He was just planning on getting a soda, but he ordered two double-cheeseburger meals and supersized them. It wasn’t like he couldn’t eat one, and Ethan probably needed more than a soda.

In fact he polished off his entire meal and one of Riley’s cheeseburgers. “You totally weren’t hungry, huh,” Ethan accused him, punching him in the shoulder. “Fucking goalies, man.”

“My eyes were just bigger than my stomach,” Riley lied, going for nonchalant. From the look Ethan gave him, he wasn’t buying it.

“Sorry. I have a hard time letting anyone do shit for me,” Ethan mumbled, still looking down at the floor. “I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

“Not a big deal, man.” Riley flipped on some music, hoping to avoid any more conversations about money. It never seemed to go well when people found out he was rich. Either his friends were like Lane and refused to take any help his money might provide, or they were like a few kids he’d known in high school who only wanted to hang out with him because of who his family was. He especially didn’t want to get into it with Ethan, who was reluctant to let Riley buy him dinner at McDonalds. God knew what Ethan would say if Riley told him that he’d already paid the rent on the apartment for the year, or that the next time he wanted to go home, he could borrow Riley’s family’s jet.

He hoped to switch the conversation, and they talked about the team and some of the guys. It was gossip, basically, though neither of them would call it that out loud. Then they discussed the upcoming season and the talk around the league.

The general opinion was that the Sea Storm, last season’s favorites to win the Kelly Cup, had become the year’s underdogs. They had the league’s top rookie last year, and he was their leading scorer. If that didn’t get them the Cup, how on earth were they going to do it without him?

The Renegades, on the other hand, were finding themselves in the same place as the Storm last season. The favorites. They were fresh off a championship, even though their breakout star and MVP, Jared Shore, had retired.

Riley didn’t mind. He liked being the underdog, and combined with the disappointment from last season, he thought it would only make the team more determined to win. He told Ethan about the team’s new backup goalie and how he was worried he’d get traded if he didn’t pull out all the stops this season.

“Nah. He can’t start his first season. He’s gotta learn and all that shit. Besides, you’re really good. The guys on the Blackjacks always said you were one of the best in the ECHL.”

“Yeah?” At Ethan’s emphatic nod, Riley leaned back in his seat and put his car on cruise control. “Well, all right, then.”

Ethan fell asleep about an hour outside of Jacksonville. Riley glanced over at him occasionally, happy to have been able to pick up his teammate and feed him dinner.

I have a hard time letting people do shit for me.

That was the problem with the whole money thing. Riley just wanted to use it to help out his friends, but they didn’t make it easy.

When they were back at Riley’s apartment building, he leaned over and shook Ethan’s shoulder. His skin was warm, and Riley pulled his hand back a little shyly when Ethan came awake.

“Hmm? Oh. We’re here.” Ethan stretched. In two seconds he went from sound asleep to boundless energy and practically vaulted out of the Honda. It was close to two in the morning. “Hey, man, did you get a new car? I just realized it’s not the same one. I thought you had that sweet little Mazda.”

“Oh, that’s… yeah, but Lane has that. His car was practically falling apart, and Shore’s truck was just as bad, so I cut him a deal.” Riley shrugged and changed the subject. “Need a hand with your stuff?”

He helped Ethan bring in his bags, and showed him the second bedroom, which had its own bath. It also had a balcony of its own, facing the ocean.

Ethan gave a low whistle. “Damn. Riles, this is nicer than my apartment in New York. Like, the one I grew up in,” he joked, leaning against the wall. His eyes were sleepy, and he looked like the lead singer of a punk band with those tattoos, shaved head, and sleeveless shirt.

Riley raked a hand through his hair, feeling weird. He was tired. That was all.

Ethan crouched, rummaged through his bag, and came back up with a pack of smokes and a lighter. “Gonna have a smoke and a shower, then enjoy sleeping in an actual bed. I slept on the couch all summer, ’cause my sister Kelsey waited for me and Britt to move out so she could have her own room, and I didn’t think it was fair to kick her out.”

Ethan held up his smokes. “You want one? I don’t think you smoke, but y’know. You can have one if you want.”

That was… huh. “No. That’s okay.” Riley shook his head and decided he should go to bed because he kind of did want a cigarette. At least he thought that’s what he wanted.

“No problem. I won’t smoke inside the apartment or anything. This place is really nice, Riley.” Ethan looked a little worried, but he seemed to shrug it off and gave Riley that grin of his again. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Riley felt his face flush, and he nodded. “Me too. I always wanted a roommate.”

“And I always wanted my own room,” Ethan answered, winking at him. “We’ll get up to no good. I just know it. I am so goddamn glad to be back.” He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and grinned at Riley around it.

Riley told himself the pleasant warm feeling was because he was finally able to do something nice for someone. But as he watched Ethan go outside to smoke and saw his silhouette in the shadows and the faint red glow of his cigarette, Riley wondered if that was really all it was.

 

 

THAT WHOLE “goalie brotherhood” thing meant Riley could not possibly hate or otherwise shun his backup, Sasha Vazov. The kid was two years younger than him and a few inches taller, but he hadn’t quite grown into his frame just yet.

Despite having a perfect goalie stare, Vazov was actually pretty shy. He seemed grateful when Riley immediately skated over to stretch with him on their first day of camp.

“I think maybe you would be not as friend… to me,” he said carefully.

Riley shook his head. “I’m a nice guy,” he said truthfully. “Besides, I was new once. The team’s what matters, not the starting job. Which is mine,” Riley pointed out, and Sasha gave him the slightest of smiles.

Along with Vazov the team had acquired a new center, Bennett Halley, who had just finished college at the University of Michigan. He was a gifted player—solid and a good skater—but without Lane’s grace or speed.

While Halley didn’t manage to alienate the entire team like Lane did when he first showed up, Riley immediately disliked him for excessively celebrating when he scored a goal on Vazov the first day of practice. Riley made a silent vow to make sure Halley wasn’t able to get a single puck to the back of the net when Riley was in goal during practice, because that sort of show-off behavior pissed him off.

Riley was a little worried about Ethan, though, because he was clearly out of condition and having trouble in the drills. Not worried enough to let him score or anything, because Riley was still competitive, and that was his job. Nice guy he might be, but he hated getting scored on. He wasn’t there to make anyone look good.

Sometimes it happened, especially when three guys sent three pucks sailing at him at the same time. But his training during the summer had clearly paid off, and he was in the zone by the third day of camp—enough to know there wouldn’t be a problem with his starting the season, which was a relief.

It was nice to have someone at the apartment after the grueling days of training camp. Though he could tell Ethan was startled when he walked in on Riley doing a split on the living room floor, stretching out his lower back after practice.

“Fuck, man,” Ethan said, eyes wide as he took off his sunglasses. “Somehow that doesn’t look the same when you do it on the ice while wearing all that gear. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Nope.” Riley grinned up at him. “You mean you can’t do this?”

Ethan fell onto the couch in a sweaty, tattooed heap. “I can’t do anything, seems like,” he muttered. “I had to stay after so the coach could tell me I’m in danger of losing my spot if I don’t make some kind of improvement. In four days.”

“Improvement in your skating, or what?” Riley asked and stretched forward again. It felt good. His muscles were warm and limber, without a single strain or pull. Ah, the beginning of the season, when nothing hurt, and there wasn’t any pain to ignore and play through.

“I guess? The coach did say I’m good for team morale, and so he doesn’t want to cut me, but I have to stop smoking so much.”

Riley sank down on the floor and turned his head. “So much? Or at all?”

Ethan clearly didn’t want to answer that, making Riley think it was the latter. “You look like that chick from The Exorcist, dude. If you start crab-walking, I’m out of here.”

Riley flipped on his back and pushed up off the floor. “The power of Christ compels you!”

“Quit it,” Ethan laughed, and Riley could see him grinning even though he was currently upside down. “Why can you do that?”

“Practice.” Riley carefully lowered himself to the floor. It would be bad if he strained something showing off.

Since that was exactly what he was doing.

“Maybe you could teach me, and I could do that on skates. That’s improvement, isn’t it?”

“Over what?” Riley shifted into a different stretch, one that wasn’t him on the floor with his legs wide open.

“Uh.” Ethan put his hands behind his head and slid down on the couch. “Lying flat on my back because I fell over?”

Riley snorted. “Maybe you should just go in early or stay after and do some drills. I remember Lane did that.”

“Isn’t that because nobody liked him?”

“Nah. This was after he got called up for a few games in Syracuse. He came back all gung ho and wanting to skate faster.” Riley shifted again, breathing out and counting the stretch in his head. He’d already done that set, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing it again.

Showing off. Right.

“Okay, that’s never going to be me.” Ethan shrugged and slid lower. “I bet that feels good. Stretching like that. My back hurts, since I’m an idiot that drinks too much and smokes. Why am I a professional athlete again? I should’ve been a boxer. They don’t have to be on ice skates.”

“That’d be cool, though, if they did.” Riley patted the floor next to him. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

“How to box on ice skates?” Ethan winked. “Rad.” He got on the floor with Riley, wearing his usual jeans and a white shirt. He told Riley he had white T-shirts because he could clean them all easily with bleach. “Can I do this stretch in jeans?”

“If you’re a male stripper,” Riley joked and cleared his throat. “So I hear.”

“Is that how you afford this sweet apartment and the new car and all that coconut water?”

Oh, shit. This was going back to the money thing. “No. I get the coconut water in bulk. And you can try it in jeans, but it’d be better if you were wearing sweats or something.”

“Okay. One sec.” Ethan went to his back on the floor, undid his jeans with one hand and then pulled them off while he arched his back and wriggled his hips—somehow managing to get his shoes kicked off as he stripped down to his boxer briefs.

Riley felt his face flush, and he wasn’t sure why. He’d seen guys in various states of undress his whole life, given how much time he spent in a locker room. None of them took their jeans off like that, though. “Now who’s the male stripper?”

“Are you kidding? I’d be terrible at that. Although I guess I could give it a shot if this hockey thing doesn’t work out. They’ve got strip joints around here for dudes to work at. Right? I like Florida. This is a sweet apartment, and New York is way too cold in the winter.” He sat up, looking expectant. “You okay?”

No. I’m not. Riley gave an easy shrug, using the same tricks he did in goal to stay loose and relaxed. “Sure. Watch.” He showed a few of the stretches to Ethan, who was one of the most inflexible people Riley had ever seen.

Riley ended up trying to push him lower in the stretch by half climbing on Ethan’s back. They laughed, and it was perfectly fine—guys being stupid and horsing around—until Riley realized, with a vague sense of unease, that he was hard.

And he was wearing track pants, so it wasn’t like he could hide it. What the hell? Before he could figure out if Ethan had noticed or not, Ethan saw the time and jumped up.

“Oh, man. I gotta shower. Lawry’s picking me up to go to that bonfire at Sloany’s. He swears Zoe’s okay with it. I hope he’s right.” Ethan gave Riley a friendly smile. “You want to come with me?”

“No thanks.” It didn’t seem to Riley like Ethan had noticed Riley’s hard-on and was trying to get away from him, because Ethan moved suddenly like that all the time. Besides, guys got worked up when they were… worked up. Nothing really wrong with it. All about blood flow, et cetera.

“Okay. Well, you’re invited, you know. I never see you out after practices and stuff.” Ethan leaned down to pick up his jeans. “I guess that’s why you’re actually good at hockey. Unlike me.”

“I think you’re good,” Riley said. “There’s more to the game than skating. Besides, that was a pretty cool trick with your jeans.”

Ethan’s grin was unabashedly wicked. “You’re good for my ego.”

“I’m not going to let you score on me at practice,” Riley informed him, stretching again because his little blood-flow problem didn’t seem to be going away.

“Seriously, you should come sometime,” Ethan continued, and Riley had to hide a wild laugh because, yeah, that was the plan—as soon as his chatty roommate took himself off to his shower. “You’re hilarious, and I don’t think anyone really knows that but me. And hey, did you know people thought you were dating Courtnall?”

Riley didn’t know what to say, though he was aware of the rumor. “Why is it I was supposedly dating Lane, and everyone thought Lane was dating Sloany’s girlfriend?”

“People like complicated love triangles? I don’t know. Maybe they thought you were all three dating. My sister knows some people who do that. Sounds like a lot of work. And man, I’ve lived with two sisters. Why would I want two girlfriends?”

“That wasn’t two girls,” Riley pointed out. Then he wondered what the fuck he was talking about… and why.

“Right. Backup. That might be better.” Ethan strolled into the kitchen with his jeans slung over his shoulder, and pulled a Pepsi out of the fridge.

Riley cleared his throat. “You’re going drinking.”

Ethan sighed, put the Pepsi back, and took one of Riley’s coconut water boxes. “This stuff is gross, Riley.”

“It grows on you. And Martin Brodeur drinks it,” Riley told him, mentally chiding himself for his inability to stop talking. And he was still hard.

“Who?”

The look of horror on Riley’s face made Ethan laugh. “Kidding, kidding. Hey. I can’t wait until the Rangers play the Devils, but I doubt we’ll get that broadcast down here. There may be an important preseason baseball game happening somewhere they need to cover.”

Riley had actually signed up for the Center Ice package so he could catch Devils games. But he didn’t say that. The memory of Ethan’s stubbornness over Riley buying him a cheeseburger was fresh in his mind. It seemed better to spring it on Ethan with the game already on, so he wouldn’t ask any questions. “The Rangers suck,” he offered instead.

“Fuck you,” Ethan said cheerfully and headed for his bedroom. He left the door open and dropped his jeans on the floor. Riley could see him pulling at his boxer briefs on his way to his bathroom.

What the hell was he doing?

Riley got up, went to his room, and closed his door. He pulled off his track pants and his underwear and sprawled on his bed with his laptop. He was suddenly very curious about why he was turned on right then.

The idea of being attracted to men had never bothered him, even if it’d never happened to him before. Riley had known Lane was gay before he saw him with Jared, just from the way Lane shied away from normal physical interactions between teammates. Riley spent a lot of time focusing on body language as part of his position.

Riley wasn’t one for casual hookups, but he’d been with a few girls, and he definitely enjoyed it. As for guys… he’d never been with one. He’d thought about it, after talking with Lane, even considered some of his teammates and if he’d make out with them or not. He concluded that he wouldn’t not make out with them. But that didn’t seem like a very compelling case that he might be bisexual. At most he wasn’t not bisexual. He just wasn’t sure.

Until Ethan, apparently.

Riley flipped open his laptop and typed “gay sex” in Google. Then he changed that to “gay porn,” then amended that to “gay porn videos.” That got rid of all the articles. The point wasn’t to read.

Riley stroked himself slowly while scrolling through some sites. Some of the names of the videos made him laugh, but he supposed they weren’t any more ridiculous than straight porn.

Out of curiosity he typed in “gay porn hockey video.” Riley wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the vast majority of the results were guys getting themselves off for the camera while wearing hockey gear—though it looked more like something you’d wear as an extra in the movie Tron, instead of on the ice. Was that a thing?

Judging by the number of results he found, yes. Yes, it was.

He tried putting in “gay porn hockey goalie,” but the first result was a Deadspin article about a well-known NHL goalie. Sadly there was no video—he looked—and it was also not about Brodeur, which Riley would probably have read, even if he weren’t possibly bisexual.

Eventually Riley navigated through his bookmarks to a folder creatively called “porn I like” and opened it. He clicked on a few links, not really to watch them—except that one with the girls in roller skates, wearing knee socks and pigtails, skating around and falling on each other and giggling and then making out, because that one was awesome. He was looking to see if he had some favorite scenario or something that he could translate into a better search term with the word “gay” in front of it.

Riley almost gave up and just got off to his adorable roller-skate girls when he saw the subfolder called “bad game.” That was where he kept more intense stuff, things he watched when he needed to take his mind off a bad night in goal.

The last time he’d watched any of those was the night they lost the conference finals. There weren’t that many videos, but they all had a similar theme—someone who was all wound up, either fighting, angry, or mad and being restrained or subdued in some fashion. Most of them were videos he found on a fetish website that specialized in bondage.

Sometimes Riley felt guilty watching that kind of stuff. He liked girls, and he didn’t want to grab them and force them or tie them to things, unless they were into that. In which case, he’d love to. It made him feel like a bad person, which was why he didn’t watch the videos all that often. There were disclaimers about the actresses giving consent, but he couldn’t help it.

Riley found a similar video that he clicked on simply because the guy on his knees had tattoos and a shaved head, and it… oh.

The guy with the tattoos was sucking another guy’s cock. Which, okay. Riley liked blow jobs, so that was point one in the “maybe I could like guys” column. He probably needed to like giving them too, for it to be two points, but one thing at a time. Riley couldn’t see the guy who was getting his cock sucked, just his hand on the back of tattoo guy’s neck holding him where he wanted. The guy was saying things like “That’s it” and “Take it” and “More. Come on,” and Riley definitely liked that.

Especially because the guy on his knees was all angry and defiant, and when the camera zoomed out, Riley could see the tattoo guy’s hands were tied behind his back. Another point? Maybe.

Every so often the man would tip tattoo guy’s face up, and he’d say, “Look at me,” and Riley liked that part so much, he watched it three times. He was breathing hard, flushed all over, and the hand on his cock was moving faster as the guy rubbed his thumb over the tattoo guy’s mouth—like he wanted to feel it stretched around his cock. Holy fuck. Was that Riley who just made that noise…?

Gradually angry-tattoo guy’s eyes slid closed as he gave it up and stopped fighting. The other man murmured, “That’s it, take it for me.” And fuck, Riley was so close he couldn’t stop. There was a soft groan, and the man hauled “not so angry now” tattoo guy closer with his hand around the back of his neck, choking him with his cock and coming in his mouth.

Tattoo guy was breathing hard, resting his head on the other guy’s stomach. Riley heard the guy murmur, “Do you feel better now?” And the guy on his knees nodded and that was it, Riley came so hard he saw stars and moaned loudly through the whole thing.

Because, in his head, the guy on his knees was Ethan, and Riley was the one asking him if he was all right, the one who was calming him down by fucking his mouth so hard he choked.

Riley wasn’t sure exactly how many points in the column that got him, but it was probably a lot.