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“I have a problem with relationships. I don’t do them. And you shouldn’t do them with the first guy you experiment with. If you want to fuck around no strings attached, I’m your man. I’ll even go as far as agreeing to hook up with only you while you explore this if it makes you feel better. But only if you agree this is strictly a fuck buddy thing. I’m too selfish for a relationship and you’re too vulnerable for one.”
“Confused isn’t the same as vulnerable.”
“No, but they do tend to go hand in hand.” Tripp runs his fingers through his artfully mussed hair, which only makes it look better. “Look, I think you should figure out what you want from me. If it’s just to explore being with a man, I’m all in. If you think it might be something else, something where you don’t like the idea of me being with other people when this is over, we shouldn’t take it any further.”
Though I know his words are meant to protect me, they hurt more than help. Tripp is the first person—the only person—I’ve confided in about my sexuality, and the thought of losing that terrifies me. So does the idea of experimenting with another man. But if I’m being honest with myself, I know he makes a valid point about the repercussions. I’ve already questioned whether it’s all men or just Tripp I respond to, and if taking things further could ruin the friendship we have, that may be worse than never figuring myself out. After all, at least now I have someone I can talk with openly.
Sighing heavily, I nod my head. “Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.”
***
The first day of training never fails to kick my ass, no matter how good of shape I think I’m in. Lungs burning, muscles shaking from the strain they’re under, I pump my arms and legs until I cross the line with the rest of my teammates, locking my hands behind my head to catch my breath before we have to line up for the next sprint.
Though it all worked out in the end, as a kid I thought goalies would escape the dreaded wind sprints, so I eagerly signed up. That little misconception led to a great career considering I’m far better at blocking shots than I am at taking them, but it’s hard to be grateful for that when my legs feel like jelly. I’ve been doing this long enough to know my body won’t hate me as much in a week. Still, I’m still a little bitter that my off-season discipline isn’t paying off right now.
“Fuck this heat, man.” Luca wipes the sweat from his brow. “You need to fill that pool with water, Niko.”
“You’re the one with the movie room, and the game room, and about a dozen other rooms you don’t need but still have. Don’t tell me you can’t afford a pool,” he retorts.
“Of course, I can, but why would I go through the trouble of building it when I could just use yours?”
“Except you can’t use his,” Justus says as Coach shouts at us to line up again.
He blows the whistle, and we take off, running as fast as we can. Thanks to my long stride I don’t come in last, but I’m not as close to first as I used to be. Luckily, my job doesn't require me to skate up and down the rink, which means being a little slower isn’t the end of the world as long as my reflexes are solid.
Once we’re done with sprints people trickle off, but I hang back to do my stretches. Since I squat so much during a game, I’m more likely to get hip or groin injuries than my teammates, and either one could end my season, especially for a player over thirty. Luca won’t admit it, but he’s in the same boat, so he lingers with me.
“How do you think we’re looking?” he asks, same as he does every year.
Though we’re nearly the same age, and co-captains, he’s always looked at me as the leader, probably because I have the more level head. “When have I ever been able to answer that on the first day?”
“Humor me.”
“The hunger is there. Making it to the playoffs and getting knocked out in the first round is a good driving force.” I drop to my back and pull my right leg toward me to stretch my hamstring.
“Our sprints were a little sluggish.” He mirrors me as I switch to the other leg.
“It’s day one. If we still look like this on day five, I’ll worry.”
“Fair enough.”
I drop into the splits to stretch my groin, and out of nowhere I’m hit with the memory of Tripp spreading his legs wide that first night, giving me an unobstructed view of his hand sliding over his cock. I enjoyed that encounter far more than I expected to, enough that I’d like to repeat it, but can I do that without developing feelings? I’m not usually a casual sex guy, but I also haven’t tried it. And with my demanding hockey schedule, chances are, casual is the only option.
“Earth to Noah. I asked what you thought about the rookies,” Luca says.
“Sorry, I was distracted.” I press my hips lower to deepen the stretch.
“I got that. Where were you just now?”
I’ve never had to ask Luca for advice, personal or otherwise, and I’m not sure how comfortable I am doing it now. At the same time, the only other person I could talk to is Tripp, and since this is about him that’s not an option.
“Is it possible to sleep with someone without developing feelings for them?”
Luca lets his leg crash back to the ground as he sits up to face me. “I thought you preferred to only sleep with people you have feelings for.”
“I thought so, too,” I mumble as I revisit my past partners, most of which I was dating when we slept together.
“Not anymore?” When I don’t answer, a sly grin spreads across his face. “Okay first, it’s about fucking time you have some fun, so hell yeah. And second, you see me do it all the time. Of course, it’s possible.”
