“Hi, Ari. This is Rhys Griffiths.”
My heart rate picks up. “Dr. Griffiths, hello. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.” It’s only been three days.
“Well, I love data, and the idea of a problem that’s under-researched appeals to me. Plus, Fabian’s been caught up in a project this week, so I had a little extra time.”
Vaguely, I remember that his boyfriend—or are they married?—is a dragon, one of the archivists for the living archive. “I hope you have good news for me, then.”
“It depends on your perspective. Let me walk you through it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Felix
“Day three,”Gline says as we get dressed after practice. “How’s it feel?” The teasing glint in his eyes makes it a little easier to tamp down my annoyance over the question. It’s Gline—for all his unfathomable goalie ways, he wouldn’t be mean. In fact, he’s been incredibly supportive since I told him about my meeting with Coach and Edison.
“It’s slow going,” I admit. “The emotional stuff is a lot better already, but the rage is a work in progress.”
His brow quirks. “And the horniness?”
I shake my head. “Please don’t go there. Thinking about it makes it happen.”
“That’s like a superpower,” he teases, and I throw my deodorant at him.
My phone chimes while he’s still laughing, and I grab it from the shelf.
Ari:
Can we meet? I’ll buy you dinner.
A shiver of nervous anticipation goes down my spine, and that’s all it takes for my dick to perk up. Thankfully, I’m alreadywearing clothes, so it’s a lot less noticeable than it might be otherwise.
A hard-on in the dressing room isn’t that big a deal—it happens to everyone at some point, and the etiquette is to not look at your teammates’ cocks anyway. But given how often it’s been happening to me lately, plus the fact that I’m openly gay and our former coach was a homophobe, I’d rather keep it under wraps, so to speak.
“Who’s got you all moony?” Gline asks, leaning over to put my deodorant back in my cubby. Reflexively, I turn my phone away from him.
That was a mistake.
His eyes light up with curiosity and mischief. “Oooh, does Felix have a crush? Are you dating someone? Who’s making you smile foolishly at your phone?”
“Nobody,” I snap, but it’s too late. His voice carries, and it carried right to our teammates, some of whom are glancing over with interest.
Need a group of gossip-hungry busybodies? Check the nearest hockey team. They’ll also bet insane amounts of money on the stupidest things, so I’m fully expecting the next thing someone says to be a bet on who I’m “mooning over.”
“It’s nothing. My friend sent a pic of his cat, and then I matched with someone on Grindr.” That should cover all bases—mushy face and not wanting Gline to see my screen.
Suspicious eyes study me, but I stare them all down with a stony glare, and eventually they accept the lies and go back to what they were doing. Except Gline.
“You know you could tell us if you were seeing someone,” he says, looking troubled. “I know some of the guys are assholes, but the rest of us would be happy for you.”
Two days ago, that would have had me in tears, but today it’s only a grateful aww feeling… and okay, maybe a little urge to cry, but nothing I can’t handle. The new plan is working.
“I know. But it’s not that, I swear.” Even if I do want it to be. The suggestion Jared and Dáithí made the other night, that I ask Ari to help me out with some casual orgasms, has been echoing through my head ever since. I want to, so, so much. I’m pretty sure I’m going to, at some point. I’m just afraid of being rejected.
It’s a funny thing. A couple of months ago, I was lecturing Dáithí about not being willing to take chances. I’ve been burned by exes a bunch of times, and I’ve always been the first to say I have to keep trying. Someone is out there who’s meant for me—someone I can build a life with. Be happy with.
And now here I am, shying away from something as simple as a friends-with-bennies arrangement. Hiding from any chance of being hurt.
I put my phone in my pocket, grab my stuff, and manage to act normal until I’m in my car.
