Page 90 of Rookie Attraction

I know it’s just frustration riding him, but the comment stings.

When our shift is done, the bench is silent, except for Range, who barks out orders. The next line jumps over the boards, and the game rolls on.

By the end of the period, Toronto leads 2–1. Karson’s true to his Whiplash nickname, moving fast, pivoting, deke’ing. He hits it so hard I’m surprised the ice doesn’t crack underneath him. The fans eat it up, chanting his name. Meanwhile, I’m stuck on the bench, sweat dripping down my face, replaying my mistake. I decide to make another one by glancing at my defensive partner. Finn stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched. I try to ignore his earlier words, but it’s useless.

The battle continues in the third period, but no one scores. The final buzzer roars and that’s it, we lose by one freaking goal. A goal that I could’ve prevented. I watch my brother and his teammates celebrate Toronto’s win. Like always, I’m happy for him, but I’m pissed off at myself.

Cooling down, I look around for Finn, but he’s already out of sight. I thought distance between us was a good thing, but it feels I’ve lost a lot more than a game.

Chapter Seventeen

FINN

WEEKS LATER, NY(DECEMBER)

Sel and I haven’t talked since that night in Toronto. Except on the ice, because hey, I’m an adult and this is my career on the line. And yeah, we fucked up bad in the second period of that game in Toronto, and it still grates. But after a couple of home games where we win more than we lose, I’m starting to cool down.

Off the ice, not so much. I spend my time ruminating over what to do about my feelings for Sel. Feelings and desires that keep growing more intense and have no where to go. My outlet? Training. I hit the gym so hard that I’m cut like never before. It doesn’t matter, though, because my mood doesn’t improve.

How he could kiss me like that one moment and then push me away the next?

You walked out without a fight, so…

Sel wants to protect me from himself, but I don’t need that. Yes, I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I’m queer, but it isn’t freaking me out the way he thinks. I’m not one for denial; I know I don’t feel attraction the way most people do. And it turns out my attraction is tied to a person, not a gender. Only, the person I want isn’t sure about wanting me. I haven’t been able to think about anything else but him. In fact, it’s so frustrating to be polite and distant around Sel, that I don’t know how much more I can take. If I grind my teeth any harder, I won’t have any left.

It was another gruelling practice today but I welcomed it because now I’m too tired to think.

Until I overhear Sel talking with Berg about his “date” with Taylor tonight. They’ll probably hook up for real. Maybe they already have? Ugh, now I want to puke.

Taylor’s out, not figuring shit out, so he’s perfect. And I’m perfectly miserable.

Not even Sorensen’s jokes or Makela’s teasing can lighten my mood. They invite me to a pub in the neighborhood, but I beg off.

Back at home, I heat up one of those super healthy prepped meals, eat, and promptly fall asleep on the couch. A couple of hours later, however, my stomach wakes me up. I guess “healthy” wasn’t enough. I tap my phone and it’s just past midnight. I know if I don’t eat, I’ll never drift off again.

Throwing on my Rush sweatpants, I wander into the kitchen to see what I can dig up, and it’s frozen pizzas for the save. I place two pies in the oven, flop back on the couch, and flick on the TV. After twenty minutes of browsing, I give up. With my attention span shot, I sit there in the dark, waiting for the oven timer to buzz. I stare out the window, at the stunning lights of the city, and I start to wonder what Sel is doing right now.

You mean, who he’s doing…

Twenty minutes of “obsessing about something I can’t have” later, and the pizza’s ready. The carbs have the much-needed effect of making me sleepy and fuck knows I need oblivion.

I’m just starting to doze when there’s a loud knock at my door. Am I asleep or did that really happen? I hear the sound again and shake my head. If this is a neighbor pranking me, I will lose my shit.

Reluctantly, I get up and head for the door, turning on the light in the foyer and checking the peephole—this is New York after all, you never know who’s going to be standing on the other side.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I grumble.

I wrench open the door to find Sel standing there, looking as wrung out as me. His dark hair’s a disheveled mess, but he’s trimmed his beard which makes him look even hotter, if that’s possible. Fuck, he’s gorgeous, even in the middle of the night wearing low-slung sweats and a white T-shirt that’s tight across his shoulders and biceps. So simple, but so freaking sexy. I try to fight it, but my blood races and my dick chubs up.

Then I remember where he’s been tonight and who he’s been with.

“What are you doing here?” I snap. “It’s one in the morning.”

The sharp tone’s so unlike me, but too bad; I’m tired, horny, and pissed off. This man is driving me out of my mind and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing. And why the hell is he here now and not with Taylor?

Sel doesn’t reply to my question. He’s breathing hard, like he ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, and we stare at each other like it’s the first time we’ve met.

“Well?” I repeat.