Jesus. Why hadn’t he been able to keep his razor-sharp focus with Kevin around? He was used to swimming with hot guys — hot teammates, even — around. Hell, even buff dudes, stripping in the locker room right in front of him didn’t do much for him anymore.

It wasn’t just proximity.

Yeah, Kevin was exactly his type — sleek but muscled, with a six-pack he would love to run his tongue over and full lips that would look perfect dragging down the length of his cock.

But it wasn’t just looks, either. It was that fire in Kevin’s eye when he’d flicked his eyes towards the other wall, responding to Matty’s unspoken challenge without a second thought.

And Kevin had won the first couple laps, stinging Matty’s pride.

Well, he’d cheated the first one, but Matty had been slow, distracted by the flash of a mischievous grin splitting that gorgeous face.

But Matty had so fucking much to focus on. Like, shit, not getting bumped back down. He’d only gotten called up at the end of last season. They hadn’t called him up for the playoffs, meaning he wasn’t their first pick. They were counting on him getting into shape before the season began. Then, he’d get a few sheltered minutes here and there, carefully testing his abilities.

He’d really only gotten called up because Cam — by all accounts a better player, with more points and fewer flaws — had collapsed on ice, and he’d been their number two choice. Maybe even number three or four.

Matty couldn’t throw away this chance.

Voices echoed down the hall and Matty quickly yanked the shower knob to turn the shower water off, then grabbed his towel to run once over his hair, face, and torso before wrapping it around his waist.

Not that he didn’t think he had self-control around the guy, but just in case. Adrenaline did funny things sometimes.

“Hey,” Kevin greeted, that warm voice sending a shiver of pleasure straight through Matty. A nice, sexy, rough voice did everything for and to him, but nobody had to know that.

“Hey,” Matty answered briefly, walking over to the lockers while his toes curled into the damp, lemon-scented floor. He stepped around the yellow floor wet, caution sign and pulled open his locker. “Nice work back there.”

“You too.” Kevin sounded sincere. “You’re good. You swam as a kid?”

“Yeah.” Matty laughed under his breath. “About all there is to do in my damn town.”

“I know the feeling,” Kevin laughed, and Matty smiled despite himself. “I bet Cam bitched about Fredericton a few times.”

Matty hesitated, but didn’t comment on the word choice. He just coolly answered, “Yeah.” He pulled his change of clothes out of the locker.

Kevin slammed his locker shut and headed for the shower, and Matty didn’t glance after him. Hans followed a minute later.

Matty let out a breath, stepping out of his towel and into trunks, then jeans. He buttoned them up and toweled his torso off so he could force his t-shirt onto his damp torso.

He still smelled like the pool, but that was fine. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

By the time he was sitting down to slip his sandals on again, Kevin was on the other side of the locker room stepping into his clothes.

“So, how long have you been living here, then?” Matty asked, to make a bit of conversation.

“A month,” Kevin told him. When Matty glanced back, he was at least wearing jeans. Thank God.

“Liking it?”

“Like I said: there’s a lot I miss about Fredericton, but none of those things are Fredericton.”

Matty laughed at that way of putting it. Sounded a lot like Timmins, his hometown. “Going home soon?”

“For a bit. I think I’ll take a week.”

“Only?” Most of the guys spent at least a couple weeks, maybe a month or more, at home recuperating and catching up. Then again, Kevin had only just moved out.

“Yeah. You?”

Matty hummed and shrugged. “I can’t say anything. I’m thinking about just a week, too.”

“You live round here?”

“Yep,” Matty told him. “Liberty Village.”

Kevin whistled. “Right around the corner from me! Well, and a few blocks. But I can’t get over how many of us are around here.”

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Matty nodded. “If you wanna see more of it sometime…” he trailed off. Shit, was he offering to give guided tours to the guy? Who the fuck had let his dick in charge of things?

He was not watching Kevin shirtless.

Matty shouldered his gym bag — the lighter one he used for just the things he didn’t keep locked up here.

But Kevin was already beaming, that brilliant smile cracking his face in two again. His teeth gleamed with the smile. “Thanks, man. Yeah, we should hang out.”

“Tell each other stories about Cam,” Matty offered with a laugh. He tried to ignore the awkward shift from Hans. Hans had never really been close to Cam, which made the conversation a bit awkward. They didn’t have anything against each other, but groups were bound to form in any group of a couple dozen or more players. First line and fourth line forwards — active reserve forwards now — didn’t automatically hang out.

Neither did pro and minor league players, but he was resolutely ignoring that. Kevin needed a buddy to help introduce him to his new teammates, and Matty could do that. He liked hanging around guys with his own level of determination, and it was already obvious from his pre-season and college-level play that Kevin had that in spades.

Hans, though…

Speaking of awkward.

“Anyway, I gotta go.” Fisher and Chris would already be waiting for him at the shawarma place by the time he dropped his shit off at home. “Catch you later, man. See you, Hans.”

Hans just grunted and raised a hand despite his extra effort, but Kevin gave him another quick, brilliant smile when he poked his head through his t-shirt and it fell into place over those beautiful abs.

Out of here, now. Matty grabbed for the locker room door and pulled it open before he could invent some other stupid excuse to talk to the guy.

* * *

“What kept you so long?”

“Got carried away swimming, missed the tram by a minute… you know how it goes,” Matty sighed as he flopped down onto the comfortable stool with his shawarma in its waxy wrapping. This wasn’t a fancy place, so he didn’t feel bad keeping his buddies waiting to order from some leather-bound menu.

He picked up the laminated sheet and turned it over, even though he already knew what he wanted to order.

Now he was going to give the damn guy tours? Hang out and drink with him? He still couldn’t believe he’d offered that. But what made him different from any other new guy he’d welcome to the team? Well, he wasn’t on his team anymore.

Literally, that was. Who knew about the metaphorical team?

“So that new guy, Kevin,” Fisher said, jolting Matty straight back to the moment. For a brief, irrational moment, he feared he’d said all that out loud.

“Yeah?”

“The one you met the other night—”

“I know,” Matty rolled his eyes. “We talked about Fredericton and shit. He knows Cam.”

“Right!” Chris grinned. “And Cam wound up being gay, right?”

Matty folded his arms and leaned back. “You’re not gonna do the all gay men know each other thing, are you?”

“No!” Fisher laughed. “But, you know, he never goes out to bars, right? And he never picks up.”

Matty tried not to feel so defensive. It wasn’t like he really knew the guy yet. “So? Neither do I.”

Chris leaned in with a deadpan expression, his eyes sparkling. “You have something you wanna tell us, man?”

Matty wasn’t sure he liked that his instinctive reaction was to laugh it off. Fuck, these guys were his closest buddies out here, probably even including his friends back home. If he were gonna tell anybody, it would have to be them.

But things were different. He was in the top league now. You didn’t just come out before your first season there even started.

And Fisher and Chris weren’t smiling now, both watching him as if expecting to hear a serious answer.

Holy shit, was he that obvious?

Matty held it a second longer, then laughed loudly. “Gotcha.”

“You fucker,” Chris exclaimed while Fisher broke the tension with a laugh, then punched his arm. “I thought you were serious there.”

“Course not.” Matty waved the menu at Fisher and Chris until it made a wub-wub plastic rattling sound, then tossed it to the table. “You ready to order?”

The three hockey players piled after one another, still shoving each other and laughing about how of course he didn’t have anything to tell them.

It was only when they were back at the table, Matty cradling his wrapped-up shawarma, that Chris returned to the subject. “But if he is, I wouldn’t blame him for not coming out yet. We’d be cool with it, but… you never know. That’s a big weak spot to show.”

Don’t flinch, Matty told himself. It was a weak spot as far as the game went. Matty knew they meant his wellbeing on ice, not that it was wrong in general. “Huh? He’s probably just focused on work like me. Don’t read too much into it. God.”

Fisher looked sympathetic. “Man, you’re still freaking out? You don’t need that shit.”

“Preseason hasn’t even started. Pre-pre-training season hasn’t started!” Chris snorted and kicked his chair. “Dude, relax. You’ve got talent, that’s why they called you up. Don’t worry so much.”

The compliments felt hollow to Matty, and he smiled and waved them off. It was true—he had a two-week break before training season and camps properly started. He was gonna ask Glenn what he could do over the break to keep in shape. Maybe only visit home for half the time, then come back here to work out…

He tried to focus on their discussions of baseball, but his heart wasn’t in it. At least the shawarma was fantastic as always, and he didn’t have to worry about his meal plan yet, either.

That would come soon enough.