Page 5 of Offside

Mixr, though it was trashy and a cesspool according to my sister, was the only place I got to just be. I didn’t show my face or any identifying marks in my profile, but I got to be out and talk to guys.

I never went into much about me, and we didn't even really talk usually–I used it as super interactive porn more than anything. I never met up with guys from the app and never even spoke to the same guy more than once–I had rules that kept my secret safe and my urges satisfied.

To an extent.

Would really love to get laid more than a few times a year by the same guy I lost my virginity to, but we couldn’t always get what we wanted.

Some things were just more important than sex.

No news from the apartment I'd wanted, but that was okay–they said I wouldn't hear back until next week anyway. It was the same building that most of the team lived in. Ash only got in faster than me because his boyfriend never actually gave up his place when he left for Michigan.

Ash was a nice guy, but honestly, I had no interest in being friends with him.

It was hard to want to be friends with someone you both envied and feared.

Heading back out to the rink with my newly fixed-up lip, I was ready to go back to focusing on the good. The good things in life that I did have, and not the sad things in life that I wouldn't have for another ten-plus years if I were lucky.

Half of playing professional sports was luck, and I wasn’t wasting mine.

“Hey, I’m sorry again,” the same quiet voice from earlier rushed out, drawing my attention back to the guy.

New Guy–well, not so new. I knew of him–it was Sam Karter.

One of the other whores of the NHL–that was what they called us guys who were traded so much. I finally lost my slutty status when the Sharks didn’t trade me last summer–now in my longest stretch with a team–but this poor guy's stretches only seemed to get shorter and shorter.

I mean, back on the team that drafted you and traded you first had to be a low blow for him.

Still, it made him nice eye candy for however long he was here. I loved brunettes, honestly–I was never a blonde kind of guy. I liked that sweet boy-next-door kind of look that you just didn’t find with athletes very often, so I never really enjoyed the view much at work.

Though I didn’t tempt fate–I never showered with the guys or stayed in the locker room while they were changing. The last thing I needed was to have one of them pop into my head when I was jerking off later.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, dropping his sweet, concerned gaze in favor of shooting at Ash.

Sam didn’t seem all that satisfied with my brushing off his actions, but it was an accident–even I knew that. I didn’t mean to be such a jerk to him when it happened, but it really fucking hurt, and I couldn’t really talk.

I wasn’t mad at him or anything.

We shot together in silence for a few minutes, though I could almost feel how badly he wanted to say something to me. I wasn’t going to go out of my way to get to know the guy, and we’d already covered apologies, so what else was there?

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he finally forced out, as if it took him fifteen minutes to come up with it. “Defenseman.”

“Landon,” I sighed, my eyes never leaving the line of pucks to be slapped in the net by us.

“Guys call me Lando.”

Slap.

“Defenseman.”

Slap.

“Lando–like from Star Wars?” he asked…

And dammit, it made me smile a little bit.

I’d been called Lando since I was in middle school, and yes, it was because of my nerdy obsession with Star Wars. I loved it so much that it was just too perfect for my friends not to capitalize on.

The thing was, I got older.