Had they heard? It’s not like we had been completely silent. But if anyone had caught the sound of heavy breathing or the frantic shifting of clothes, they were keeping their mouths shut.
I’m guessing nobody wanted to be the guy who asked Aleksey Zotov what he was doing in the dark.
Grabbing my bag, I stepped out into the frigid Upper Peninsula air. The sharp, biting cold was a massive relief, shocking my system out of the arousal Aleksey had left behind.
Coach Corby stood by the open luggage bays, his thick coat zipped all the way to his chin. He tapped a pen against his worn clipboard, clearing his throat. “Alright, listen up. Freshmen are doubling up for this tournament. I’ll read the pairings; you grab your gear and get inside. No messing around in the lobby.”
He rattled off the names. “Karter and Clay,” Coach barked.
I grimaced. That wasn’t ideal. Clay was a legacy forward who treated every silence like a problem he personally had to solve.
We hauled our gear through the fluorescent-lit lobby, past a handful of hotel visitors, and packed into a cramped elevator. Bythe time I dragged my expensive luggage into our small third-floor room, I was exhausted.
I needed to shake off the memory of Aleksey’s hands, but the confined space was making it impossible to clear my head.
Clay shoved past me and threw his duffel onto the bed by the window.
“Can you believe we finally made it?” Clay dropped onto the mattress beside his bag, already buzzing with a restless energy that exhausted me just to look at. “This tournament is going to be insane. My dad says scouts are already swarming the lobby. Did you see anyone down there?”
“No.” The zipper on my bag snagged hard. I yanked it free. “Didn’t look.”
“Didn’t look?” Clay propped himself up on his elbows, staring at me like I’d just lost my mind. “Come on. These guys decide if we go pro.”
“They decide if the seniors go pro.” I pulled a clean Ridge Cross hoodie from my duffel. “We’re freshmen. They’re not here for us.”
“Not with that attitude, they’re not.” He flopped back onto the mattress, kicking one foot up to rest on his knee. “My dad says half the scouts start tracking guys sophomore year. You’ve gotta make an impression early.”
The hoodie came over my head, swallowing my ruined t-shirt before Clay’s wandering eyes could catch the stiff white stains. “Your dad says a lot.”
Clay laughed, the sound too loud for the cramped room. “Yeah, he does. You should hear him during games. My mom has to elbow him just to keep him from getting us banned from the rink.”
“Sounds intense.”
“He means well.” Clay rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Anyway, do you think your brother’s gonna get an offer? Elliot’s a junior. He’s gotta be on their radar.”
The zipper on my duffel stuck again. I left it. “Probably.”
Folding the rest of my gear into neat stacks on the small dresser gave my hands something to do. I let my face settle into something bored, the kind of expression that made people like Clay lose interest. Clay’s voice kept going, some running monologue about the tournament, but it all blurred into background noise.
I couldn’t shake the memory of how Aleksey had jerked me off in the dark and then walked off like I was nothing, leaving me to sit in the sticky mess while he went to sleep. Any sane person would be livid.
But my anger felt hollow. It kept getting swallowed up by a sharp, involuntary thrill every time I remembered the tight grip of Aleksey’s hand on my dick.
“I hope Coach puts us on the power play,” Clay said, kicking his shoes off. They hit the wall with a dull thud. “You and me, we could run the offense. Your brother Elliot’s great and all, but the scouts probably know his game already. It’s our turn.”
“Sure.”
Every footstep out in the hotel hallway snapped my attention to the door, making my shoulders go rigid. I was waiting for a knock. Waiting for Aleksey’s voice.
I tried to think of it as simply being a new found habit, something I’d picked up living at the Ice House to avoid getting blindsided by my housemates. But the tight band across my ribs knew better. I wanted Aleksey to find me. Wanted proof that the bus hadn’t just been a quick, dirty fix for him, that I’d crawled under his skin the same way he’d burrowed under mine.
And if Aleksey knocked on that door, it meant he was just as rattled, just as hooked on the total loss of control as I was.
“Hey, are you listening?” Clay leaned forward, oblivious to the fact that I was secretly wishing our door would get kicked open. “You look completely spaced out.”
I grabbed my wash bag. “It’s been a long bus ride. I’m gonna grab a quick shower,” I said, motioning a thumb at the bathroom.
Slipping into the hotel bathroom, the lock clicked shut behind me as the harsh smell of industrial bleach stung my nose. Taking off my hoodie, then my cum-splattered t-shirt, I wadded the shirt into a ball and shoved it deep into the bottom of my bag so nobody would ever see it. Stripping off my jeans came next.
