“Are you going hiking again this week? Maybe I should come.” Kevin closed the cupboard doors, handing curry powder over to his roommate, Hans.

Hans was tall, a dual German-Canadian citizen, and kept to himself pretty well. He didn’t have the money to pay for a trainer like Glenn. He’d told Kevin his plan was to work out on his own. He was biking, hiking, and swimming this summer. Frankly, that sounded more fun than gym work, even if it was less targeted and scientific.

“Oh, perhaps,” Hans answered. He spoke English perfectly, but rapid-fire like he couldn’t remember where one word or even sentence ended and the next began. “I don’t know. I have to talk to a few of my buddies about it. I’ll let you know. Curry’s done, set the table.”

“Yeah, cool,” Kevin nodded and pushed away from the counter to grab forks and set the table. So far, they’d only been living together for a month but they got along pretty well. They had similar taste in food and neither of them were weekly partiers.

Hans had been on Kevin’s team for two years now. “Hey, so, most of the guys I’m running into have been with the team — or the big boys’ team — for a couple years now. Not a lot of newbies.”

As Hans carried bowls of curry and rice to the table, he nodded. “Everyone’s a second- or third-year, since the big reorganization.”

“Right,” Kevin nodded.

Hans was on the active reserve list right now, but that could change at prospect camp. For now, he’d taken Hans’s spot on the team since they played the exact same position.

Kevin was glad Hans didn’t seem too fussed, though. As a newbie, he’d likely be swapped in and out throughout the first season anyway. With more experience than him, Hans had a good shot of doing better.

“I’m happy where I am,” Hans shrugged. “It might be a little less active this year, but I was a wreck after last season. If I don’t have to stress about getting to top shape by September, my summer will be a lot happier.”

Kevin couldn’t understand that. If he was rotated out of the team this season, he planned to work his ass off to get back on it as soon as possible and earn his minutes on the ice so he could prove himself there.

The insatiable urge to keep getting better was almost a problem for Kevin. His goals were to build up his strength and stamina and ruthlessly massage out flaws in his technique and strategy.

“You could come swimming with me, though,” Hans suggested. “I’m going after lunch.”

Kevin groaned. “After curry?”

“It’s not that bad! Don’t overeat.”

Although he complained and grumbled to make Hans laugh, Kevin left a little room as he dumped out his bowl and washed up the dishes.

While Kevin trained at Glenn’s gym daily, he also had a membership at the neighborhood gym. A lot of players living in this area did. It was solid, quiet, clean, had great equipment, and there was camaraderie with fellow players as well as civilians since it wasn’t a pro-exclusive gym.

Best of all, they had a sauna, hot tub, and a swimming pool. Sometimes, after he woke up aching from a workout, Kevin went to the gym early just to sit in the hot tub until the janitor gave him concerned looks.

Today, though, he’d push himself into timing a few laps. He didn’t rigorously time it, but the overall strength and muscles built by swimming beat many other types of cross-training. Best of all, there wasn’t the same joint strain that came with pounding the pavement or a treadmill.

And it was fun to horse around in the pool sometimes. When Hans hesitated to climb into the pool, dunking his foot in first as he always did, Kevin grabbed it and hauled him down into the water.

Hans choked and coughed when he surfaced, then splashed him while Kevin laughed and dodged, splashing back with an open hand. He might not have brothers of his own, but he knew how to win a water fight.

“You ass!” Hans exclaimed, grabbing Kevin’s arm to try to push him down into the water.

Kevin just laughed harder, inhaling the chlorine-scented air with the delight of a preteen boy. God, he hadn’t had this much fun in a pool for years. On school trips to the local pool, where horsing around got disapproval from the teacher in the form of a—

“Hmph.”

The distinctly disapproving noise was followed by the gentle splash of someone slipping into the pool.

Kevin cast a careless glance over his shoulder at whatever old bird had it in for fun.

Oh, shit.

It was Matty, and he was ducking under the divider to the closest lane. As he surfaced, despite Kevin’s best efforts to glance away again, his eyes seemed to be glued to the older pro.

Water rivulets ran down Matty’s back, between his angular shoulder blades and the straight, long line of his spine, dripping from the tips of his slicked-back hair. It was a scene straight from some cheesy movie — or soft-core porn, he tried desperately not to think — but that didn’t detract from his interest.

“Hey, man,” Kevin called out, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in his throat. He heard Hans chime in, but didn’t really register his roommate’s voice. He was more focused on getting a response — any response.

Fuck. He admired Matty — had watched him in all the games Cam had shown him, and more on his own. This was strictly professional. The pool tile was slick under his hand as he gripped the side of the pool, treading water.

Matty pulled himself back against the wall like a sprinter at the starting line and waved. Water droplets caught on his stubble and chest hair, and the edge of the water played over Matty’s perky nipples.

And then Kevin was underwater, his asshole roommate shoving him under while he was distracted. Kevin kicked Hans’s leg to make him let go of him as he surfaced, then splashed him once more full-on in the face for good measure. “C’mon, we gotta work out, not just play all day.”

The sudden burst of focus was not brought on by glancing back again to see and hear those clean strokes cutting through the water.

This was another chance to impress people who mattered. Not that Matty was captain or had any say in the hiring decisions, but he didn’t want to come off as unprofessional before he even started the team.

Despite Hans grumbling, Kevin pushed away from the wall and ducked under the divider once Matty was on the other side of the pool, then into the next lane. Hans had to take the other lane.

For a moment, Kevin’s gaze was caught by those muscled arms rising from the water in swift, quick movements as Matty powered himself back towards their side. But fuck, no, Hans was right next to him. No way was he getting a hard-on in the pool. Not from and in front of some guy he wanted to impress.

He had to distract himself.

Kevin pushed himself against the wall, barely waiting to get into a good form before pushing himself off and through the water. Swimming with a semi wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was a fuckload better than letting it get any further.

He quickly distracted himself from the sheer rhythm of keeping track of his strokes. Not the kind he wanted right now, but…

Fuck off, he told his intrusive thoughts.

Stroke, stroke, breathe.

Stroke, stroke—

“Fuck,” he yelped when his hand cracked the side of the pool.

Look ahead, too, idiot, he told himself. Before he even finished the thought, he cast an unconscious glance to the side to see if Matty had witnessed it.

Matty was clinging onto the wall there, his expression tightening for a moment. “All right?”

“Yeah,” Kevin breathed out a quick laugh and shook it out.

Matty gave him a quick jerk of his chin, then pushed away again, streaking through the water.

Kevin waited a second or two to make it clear that he was not racing him, then pushed away a little less smoothly for a lap.

This time, he squinted ahead of him, through the water despite his blurry eyes, to keep an eye on the rapidly approaching pool wall. He hesitated with his last stroke or two, then grabbed the wall.

Now he had a sense for the length of the pool again, he could try a few other strokes. But front crawl was the best for practicing breath control.

“I hate the chlorine taste,” Hans complained as he pushed off for his first slow lap. He clearly wasn’t aiming for speed.

Matty smirked, his gaze flickering to Kevin after Hans was off. “That’s probably not chlorine.”

Kevin coughed on the chemical-laden air, then snorted with laughter and pushed himself into another couple laps.

The silence was more companionable now that Kevin knew Matty wasn’t pissed at him and Hans for horsing around in the pool. They were probably a dozen laps in before Matty spoke up again. “You’re not bad.”

In fact, Kevin could probably keep up with Matty. He tried to remind himself that Matty had had a longer season than him, and that he was sleeker and had less drag to deal with, but his chest still swelled pridefully. “You, too.”

They were both pulled up against the pool wall, and Kevin saw the flash of competitiveness in Matty’s eyes before he even said a word.

Kevin played dirty: he pushed away from the wall that second and cast Matty the quickest flash of a grin before surging forward. Matty was already in motion beside him, the force of the current from his strokes pushing lightly at Kevin as Kevin tried to break the water in front of them before Matty could.

If he’d thought Matty was swimming hard before, it was clear he’d been holding himself back.

Two could play that game. Kevin’s back and shoulders stretched as he reached further, pulled himself harder, and kicked his legs harder than ever.

Then, in a shockingly small number of strokes, they were done.

No, they weren’t. Matty was flipping underwater, just like on TV.

Kevin snorted, grabbing the wall and pulling it towards himself. He was on his back, but he didn’t have time to correct that. He’d win unfairly if he had to.

On his back, he felt even stronger. He watched the ceiling tiles above him to keep straight in his lane as he closed the gap between him and Matty. Or so he hoped. He couldn’t really look over and see this way, but he felt rippling water lapping against his side, so he was close.

Then the back of his hand was smacking the wall, and as he looked over, Matty’s hand was closing around the wall.

Too fucking close to call.

The burn in Kevin’s muscles and lungs reminded him of sweaty nights under the sheets with someone. His ex-partner, maybe, or a random guy. He hadn’t dated since moving here. He needed to change that soon.

Matty grinned at him, his dark eyes sparkling. “Again?”

“Again,” Kevin told him, even though he was heaving for breath, he pushed himself into motion. Kevin watched as Matty flipped over to his back, waiting until he pushed away before he straightened out his legs to push himself away again.

This time, Kevin hit the wall a good half-second before Matty, but he didn’t waste a second turning to race back to the start.

And he won that one by a second.

“Nice.” Matty gave him an easygoing smile, but Kevin could see it in his eyes: he hated to lose. He knew that feeling all too well.

That led to another two laps, then another.

Now, Matty was winning. He had better stamina, and it was starting to piss Kevin off. He wasn’t a dick, though. He nodded his acknowledgement every time Matty beat him.

“Jesus, you two burn out all your energy now,” Hans snorted. “Go ahead.”

Kevin jolted. Shit, he’d almost forgotten he was there.

“No, I’m done.” Matty pushed himself out of the pool easily, his biceps and triceps bulging as he hopped up onto the edge of the pool. His swim trunks clung for a moment to his bulge, right at eye level…

Kevin hauled his eyes over to Hans instead, his nails digging into the tiles. “I think I wore myself out, too.” He waited until Matty strode into the locker room entrance before raising an eyebrow at Hans to ask what that sudden exit was about.

“He gets in a zone,” Hans told him, his voice low to avoid having it carry over the water of the pool. “Don’t mind it.”

Kevin glanced at the entrance to the locker rooms. He had an idea of the knot that might be tying up Matty’s chest, because there was one in his own chest despite the fun competition.

Did Matty fear losing, even something this insignificant? Nah, maybe that was Kevin projecting his own issues onto Matty.