Chapter Nine

THE SEASON was going well for the Sea Storm. They had won enough games to put them firmly in playoff contention, and Riley was happy with how he was playing. He was learning new techniques, and his instincts were sharp and focused. The coaches remarked more than once that they could see an improvement in how confident he was in net.

Getting laid all the time sure didn’t hurt his confidence either.

When Ethan’s former team, the Vegas Blackjacks, were in town, Riley gave in and went out after the game with Ethan and a few of Ethan’s old teammates. The night ended with Riley driving them home, after Ethan had a lot more than a few beers, several Jack and Cokes, and two ill-advised shots of Jaegermeister. Riley was fairly certain there wasn’t any other kind of Jaegermeister shot and figured Ethan would probably agree with him in the morning.

But Ethan was all over Riley that night when they got home, trying to shove him around and saying things that were really hot, like “Pin me down and choke me with your cock again.” But he also giggled and told Riley that the room was spinning—and could they have a threesome sometime? Maybe with Jennifer Lawrence, because she was hot.

Then he bolted into the bathroom and threw up. Riley got him some water and some aspirin, and made him eat two pieces of toast and drink a coconut water before going to sleep.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he told him, pulling the trash can closer to Ethan’s side of the bed.

“Your face will thank me in the morning,” Ethan muttered, cranky because he couldn’t get Riley to make out with him

“You just threw up, dude.”

“So? I brushed my teeth.”

In the morning Ethan was hungover and sprawled on the couch whining. He was horrible at being sick. Riley asked him things like “Did you take some aspirin?” or “Do you want more water?” And Ethan looked at him like Riley just asked him to win the Stanley Cup.

“Would you just stop it?” Frustrated, Riley bopped Ethan in the head with a pillow. “I can get you some water, dude. That’s not even boyfriend shit. That’s just normal friend stuff.”

“I’m not really sick, though,” Ethan protested. “I’m just hungover.”

“You seemed pretty sick before you fell asleep. And two hours after that. And this morning, when you were trying to pretend you weren’t throwing up in the trash can.” Riley snorted. “What was I supposed to think you were doing? Looking for something in there?”

“My dignity,” Ethan muttered and fell back on the couch. “Shut up. I’m the one who got trashed last night.”

“Right.” Riley got him a coconut water. “Here. You can have a Pepsi after you have two of these. Don’t glare. Come on. You know your head hurts because you’re dehydrated.”

“My head hurts because I’m decaffeinated,” Ethan whined, but he drank his coconut water. “Why has this started tasting good? I don’t get it.”

“Me neither.” Riley shrugged. “It just does after a while. Want some lunch? I’m going to go for a run. I can bring some back.”

“Stop being so athletic,” Ethan mumbled. “And responsible. Why can’t I date someone who’s like me?”

“Because you’d end up in rehab,” Riley said. He laughed when Ethan threw a couch pillow at him.

“I’ll blow you if you bring me back McDonalds,” Ethan yelled as Riley closed the apartment door on his way out to go running.

Their neighbor across the way, a very old man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, raised his bushy eyebrows at Riley. “Kid must really need a cheeseburger,” he said without inflection.

“He does,” Riley agreed, choking on a laugh. His face was bright red, and he ran faster down the stairs than he did once he got to the beach.

He went by Cruisers after his run, because it sounded better than McDonalds. And besides, he could spend money on hangover food and Ethan wouldn’t complain. Food of any kind really. He wouldn’t let Riley buy him Jameson’s, and he still insisted on paying half for a pizza if they got it delivered. But if Riley just appeared with food to be eaten immediately, he could usually make Ethan forget about asking how much he owed him. Or at the very least, get a blow job out of it.

At Cruisers he saw a familiar redhead sitting on a barstool, messing with her phone. “Hey, Zoe.” He smiled as he walked up to put in a carry-out order. “You working today?”

“Riley!” The way she said his name was awesome. He had no idea the I could go on that long. “Nah. Just picking up an order to go. I get a discount, and me and Ryan need some food. Ain’t either of us a very good cook, but I might go insane if I gotta eat another pizza. They got other food in Canada, do you think? Because I don’t think they do.”

“You should ask Lane,” Riley suggested and then winced. “Just make sure to be really specific what you’re asking.” Definitely don’t ask him for blow job tips unless you want to know way too much about his and Jared’s sex life.

“Duh.” Zoe patted the barstool next to her. “Hop up here, sugar. I’ll make sure the bartender pays attention and takes your order.”

“So you’ve got a hungover boyfriend too?” Riley asked, while they waited. He caught Zoe’s stare and gave her a confused look in return. “What?”

“Too?” She raised her eyebrows. “You and Kennedy?” Before Riley could say anything, she giggled. “That’s kinda adorable. And actually, yeah. That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?” Riley’s face was on fire, but he couldn’t help asking.

Zoe took a sip of her soda, clearly trying to think through what she wanted to say. “Yeah. I mean, Kennedy’s intense, and he needs someone to balance him out. Does Lane know about y’all?”

“I told him. Yeah.” Riley ordered the food, then sat down next to Zoe to wait for it. They chatted about the hockey-camp thing and about how good Ethan was with the kids there. He was much better than Riley, who hadn’t been around kids that age since he was one. The kids loved Ethan. Some of them gave him hugs when he showed up.

Most of them couldn’t remember Riley’s name, so they just called him Goalie.

Zoe’s order arrived, and Riley’s a few minutes later. He stopped on the way home, picked up some beer, and wondered if he should get Ethan some cigarettes. He would want them later and go out and get them himself if Riley didn’t bring him some. But Riley really wanted him to stop smoking so much.

In the end he bought the cigarettes and a bottle of Gatorade.

Ethan was asleep when Riley got back, so he put the sports drink and the cigarettes on the table, got his food out of the bag, and put Ethan’s in the fridge. Ethan was taking up the entire couch, so Riley sat on the floor and ate his lunch.

Ethan kept sleeping, which was probably good for him, even if Riley was going to eat his cheeseburger for dinner if Ethan didn’t wake up. Riley played a few games of NHL 14 and was thinking about throwing things at Ethan and/or taking embarrassing pictures with his phone, when Ethan finally stirred.

“I hate drinking,” he said, blinking at Riley. “I’m never doing it again. Ever. Hi.”

“Hi. Just a sec.” Riley deftly kept the computer-controlled Ryan Callahan from scoring on Brodeur. “I’m beating the Rangers.” He paused the game and smiled at Ethan. “I picked up some food and a six-pack.”

Ethan’s eyes brightened. “Yeah? Sweet.” So much for not drinking ever again—not that Riley believed that. “I need a shower.” His gaze settled on the table, and he looked back at Riley with a strange expression. “Is that for me?”

Riley nodded. “I don’t smoke. Remember? I almost didn’t get them because you should quit. But you know. Hangovers and all that.”

“Thanks,” Ethan mumbled without looking at him. For a moment Riley worried that Ethan was mad. But then he gave Riley a small smile, and Riley could tell he was pleased. “That was nice of you.”

Riley just shrugged and smiled back. “I’m a nice guy. Go take a shower or I’ll eat your cheeseburger.”

“Fuck you. I’ll cut you.” Ethan grinned, stood up, and ran his fingers through Riley’s hair affectionately as he passed him on his way to the bedroom. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but you’re pretty good at it.”

“Thanks,” Riley answered, voice a little rough. He finished beating Ethan’s favorite hockey team on the video game, shouting things at him from the living room like “Lundqvist couldn’t stop a sneeze in this game.”

Ethan’s response to that was a loud shout of “Your goalie is too old.”

That night Ethan slept with him, but they didn’t do much more than make out for a few minutes. Which was weird, because usually Ethan slept with him so they could do more things involving their dicks. But it was nice. More than that, it felt normal.

The whole day had been like that actually. It reminded Riley of being in goal for a winning game—the nerves and the anticipation, the rush and the adrenaline, the calm certainty and absolute trust in his instincts.

That thought kept Riley awake for a bit. Not because he was weirded out or worried, but because he wasn’t. He listened to Ethan’s deep, even breathing and wondered if that was how it felt to fall in love.