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“At all-star game?” I ask, suddenly feeling more hopeful.
“Fuck, no.” Ryan laughs. “Neither of you are being invited.”
“Nikolai might,” Brandon says, “but not Ander. He’s sucked this season.”
“He has not sucked,” I say, defending him.
“That’s not what we all heard last night.” Ryan smirks.
“Gross.” Brandon wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“He was off to slow start,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from mine and Ander’s sex life.
Ryan laughs harder. “That did not sound slow to me.”
“Can we please talk about anything other than Ander sucking dick?” Brandon whines.
“I agree,” I say. Ander’s dick-sucking skills are a topic for me and Ander, not these two.
“That bad, huh?” Ryan asks, still smirking.
“No. Not bad. Quite good,” I say.
Brandon brings his hands to his face and rubs harshly at his skin. “I swear to God, I am going to launch myself out of this car if you two do not stop talking about this.”
“You brought it up,” I say. “I was fine sulking by myself.”
“You did bring it up,” Ryan says.
“Anyway.” Brandon rolls his eyes. “Take it from us, it’s not impossible for the two of you. If you like each other like that, then you can find a way to make it work.”
Ryan reaches across the car and tenderly squeezes the back of Brandon’s neck. Brandon relaxes and softens into his touch. I want what they have. That easy intimacy. That familiar touch. That teasing and playing around that can be soothed by a simple gesture of affection.
But it’s so much easier for them. They get to be around each other all the time, whereas Ander and I could only have this during stolen moments here and there, from time to time. And there’s no way that we could fix that. We both love our teams. We both have our own dreams for our careers as goalies. There’s only one net, and we both need it if we want to be the best we can be. Neither of us would be happy playing second fiddle to the other. Nor would either of us be happy asking the other to become a back-up.
There are so many complications. And as much as I want to believe that Brandon is right, I’m not sure I see a clear path forward.
My phone rings in my pocket. Maybe it’s Ander wanting to talk this over while he waits for his flight. That would be a very Ander thing to do. My heart begins to beat faster as I pull my phone from my pocket to answer it.
Sofia.
My heart sinks. These past three days have been so perfect, even despite the way they ended, I had blissfully forgotten about my contract woes.
Reluctantly, I answer. “Hello, Sofia.”
“Merry Christmas!” she says, her voice carrying a lot of uncharacteristic cheer.
“Yes. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” she says, her voice turning back to her usual tone, a combination of bored but also straight to business.
“I did.” More than I deserve. A sigh escapes me as I’m flooded with all the good memories I collected over the holiday. All of them involve Ander’s handsome, happy, and content face.
“Good,” she says. “Because I have one final gift for you.”
Oh, God. What on earth can this be? I can’t take any more bad news today.
“I have a contract offer for you,” she says.
