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The ref drops the puck and Luca’s on it right away, winning the faceoff and circling around the goal to give it to me so I can slow things down and set up the offense. Most of the players start migrating toward the other end of the rink, though Niko hangs back to take the pass I send him. He takes his time moving the puck, passing it around until a tiny window opens up for Justus.
Niko delivers the puck to him right in front of the goal, but instead of taking the shot Justus spins away from the net, turning one hundred and eighty degrees and flicking the puck over the goalie’s shoulder. Lights flash as the crowd goes wild, both because we put another point on the board and because that was one hell of a trick shot.
For the next two periods both teams go back and forth controlling the game, and while they get one by me when I come out of the crease to challenge a fast break, that’s the only score they get. Niko is virtually a solid wall between me and the other team, and if they do manage to get off a shot, I time my blocks to land on the puck instead of giving up a rebound opportunity and an easy score. It’s a delicate balance, and one I’m typically pretty good at, which is how Niko could tell I was a little distracted in the first period.
He’ll probably ask why in the locker room, and I'm man enough to admit the truth. It was a glimpse of Tripp’s hair—which is now dark at the root and sort of emerald green at the tip—that got me. What I won’t admit is that I suspect the green is because I asked why he chose blonde instead of green or blue when he was writhing naked on my lap.
Normally, Tripp wouldn’t catch my attention during a game, but Luca happened to crush one of the opposing forwards into the boards right where he and Xander were sitting. And while that’s happened before without causing me to lose focus, this is the first time it’s happened since we became intimate.
The fact is, I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he took me inside him nearly two weeks ago, and I wasn’t mentally prepared for the emotions that accompanied that first glimpse. I’m not talking about the things that plagued me initially, like why he hadn’t called or whether he was deliberately avoiding me, I’m talking about the sense of longing that hit me hard enough to steal my breath.
Even from twenty yards away, I could see how the green in his hair made his eyes pop, giving him an even more naughty air than he usually possesses. That alone was enough to take my eye off the game, but when I realized he was wearing my jersey… I’ve never had the urge to stake my claim on anyone, and Tripp certainly isn’t the type to let anyone claim him, but in that moment, I liked the idea of him being mine.
I suppose that’s why he was so concerned about getting our labels straight, so I wouldn’t confuse fucking with something more. That could also be why he hasn’t called. I hope that’s the reason, anyway. I’d much rather he put a little distance between us to manage expectations than to have him decide he’s not interested. Although, that distance is what got me off track during the game…
“Epic, man. Just epic.” Luca is slapping Justus on the back along with half a dozen other guys when I enter the locker room, and the noise in my head instantly fades to nothing as I watch them shower him with praise. This right here, this brotherhood, is what I live for.
There’s something about pushing our physical limits together, sharing blood and sweat, battling exhaustion and chronic pain, that binds us on a deeper level. Makes us function as one, like we share the same mind. It sounds corny, but when you see it come together… When you see a guy make a blind pass that he just knows his teammate will be there to receive, or you can communicate how you want a play to develop with a single look, the only explanation is that we’re mentally connected. We’re never truly alone.
I think that’s why I never got too hung up on the questions about who I am off the ice. My teammates, my brothers, were always there. Now that I’m edging closer to retirement, closer to the end of that bond… I guess maybe that’s part of why I’m asking the question now, although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be examining things too closely if it weren’t for Tripp.
Dammit, why does it feel like things always come back to him?
“That’s gonna make ESPNs top ten plays for sure.” Luca’s excitement brings me back to the locker room. “We need to celebrate!”
“Frosty Dog?” Niko suggests our go-to pub. “I’ll tell Xander to meet us there.”
“Hell yeah.” Luca plants his hands on Justus’s shoulders, using them for leverage to jump up and down. “The ladies will be lining up to see if this guy’s got as much magic in the bedroom as he does on the ice.”
Justus turns as red as a tomato—or maybe that’s just exertion from the game—and steps away to start putting stuff in his locker while Niko snorts under his breath. “You’re totally gonna pimp him out to try to score yourself, aren’t you?”
“Duh.” Luca shrugs as if that should be obvious.
Once we’re all showered and changed, we head over to the bar, which as usual, is packed after a home game. The crowd graciously parts as we work our way to the back where the owner reserves a section for us, random hands begging for a high-five or slapping our shoulders as we pass. Since the owner has a policy against asking us for selfies and autographs, we manage to cut through the crowd pretty quickly.
This time I’m prepared to see Tripp, who as usual is sitting across the table from Xander. I’m actually a little grateful that this encounter isn’t the first time I’m seeing him tonight, because the sight of him in my jersey is even more powerful up close. I blink and watch Niko kiss his boyfriend hello so I don’t give off the wrong impression, though when I finally bring myself to look in Tripp’s direction he’s patting the seat next to him with a knowing smirk.
“You like?” He pinches the shoulder of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger.
Across the table Niko whines, “Even Tripp is wearing a jersey. The wrong one, but still.”
“Tripp cannot wear my boyfriend’s number," Xander says, shaking his head. "Not a chance in Hell."
“Well, my actual boyfriend isn’t wearing it.”
“You know dating a jock goes against my moral code, don’t ask me to broadcast it.” Xander grins and rolls his eyes.
As the two of them flirt-fight, I angle my head towards Tripp. “Where’d that come from?” I ask quietly as I tug on the hem of the jersey.
“It was incredibly hard to find.” He sighs with mock frustration. “They only carry it at every sporting goods store, online, and at the gift shop at the rink.”
“I mean why would you buy it? I’d have given you one if I knew you wanted it.”
“How would you know I wanted it when you haven’t called?”
“You haven’t called me, either.” I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest.
“True, but I’m exceedingly comfortable with having a fuck buddy and you… Well, we don’t know that yet. So, I figure it’s up to you if I put my stick in your net.”
