“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
In the morning,something tickles my face. As I blink awake, I realize it's Jamie's hair. That same curl that beckoned me on the bus is draped across my nose, as though I've burrowed my face into his hair overnight. His leg is sandwiched between mine, his nose nestled into the crease of my neck.
I’ve never really cuddled, never really had the chance to. It definitely wasn’t part of what Trent and I had, and since then it’s been nothing but hookups. It’s sweatier than I thought, but also…nicer?
For the first time, it strikes me how sad it is, this sex life of mine. Thirty-two years old, and just finding out what it’s like to cuddle? What it’s like to have truly remarkable sex? That’s what last night was — the kind of sex you only have when you already know someone, when youlikethem.
Part of my brain is trying to freak out, trying to tell me to end thisnow. But a bigger part of me wants to sink into the experience, to enjoy it while I can. Because that's the thing – I know it won't be for long. What out twenty-three year old superstar is going to want to be stuck with a closeted old man?
But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy this while it lasts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JAMIE
Three days before Christmas,I get a call from Avery. He and I have been playing phone tag for the past two weeks — a missed call here, a text message not responded to for two days there.
If I’m being honest, I haven’t been trying as hard as usual to keep up my side of things. Ever since the night I spent in Calgary with Ethan, I haven’t known what to say to Avery — if I say anything at all. Still, I can’t bring myself to actively ignore him, so I answer the call and sit down on my couch.
“Dude, I was about 12 hours away from calling in a missing persons report. I mean, I keep seeing you on my TV screen, but who knows – that could be a replicant.”
I laugh at this.
“Nope, that's definitely me. I've got the bruises to prove it.”
“You guys are on a hell of a run. Seems like the team's really working.”
That’s for sure. We’re tied for first in our division with St. Louis, the best record Minneapolis has had through December 15thsincetheir last Cup. Everyone’s trying to pretend it’s not a big deal, but with New Year’s just around the corner, it’s starting to feel like kind of a big deal.
“Hell, Tremblay learned how to pass and everything.”
I snort, thinking of how far we've come in just a few months.
“Yeah, we've, uh, figured shit out. He's probably my best friend on the team.”
“Excuse you! I’m your best friend, thank you very much.” His tone is light, but I worry there’s an undercurrent to it.
“You’re also two thousand miles away. If only you’d drop out and move to Minneapolis to be my house boy.”
That gets him laughing.
“While I wouldn’t mind a career as ahouse boy, as you so eloquently put it, I think you know that wouldn’t work for us. Besides, how could I wear my short shorts around the house in that weather you’ve got?”
That certainly brings an image to mind.
“But back to Tremblay. Isn’t he, like, a homophobic dickwad? I believe that’s a direct quote.”
I certainly didn’t do Ethan any favors during my early season conversations with Avery.
“I don't think he is, not really. Or, like, he's just known so few gay people in his life that he didn't realize how homophobic he was. His dad's this totally old-school NHL player and I think it's really fucked him up.”
There's silence on the other end of the line.
“When you said friends, I thought you meant you, like, watched tape together and shit. Not that you were having deep conversations about family trauma.”
“I mean, we do that, too.”
