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This time when I walk Nigel to the door, I don’t bother with the entryway light, instead allowing the backlighting from the kitchen and dining area to illuminate the hall. He puts on his shoes, thanks me for dinner, and reaches for the door; I stop him with a hand on the forearm, his gaze immediately locking onto mine. I didn’t even mean to do it, but now that I did, I realize I don’t want to let him leave with anything less than last time. Pitiful as it is, I can’t handle anything more than a hug, not yet having worked myself up beyond that.
I use my grip on his arm to pull him toward me, and he steps up with no resistance, wrapping his arms around me and drawing them tight. He’s gripping me harder than last time, as though more confident that I won’t pull away; god, I want to kiss him. Ishouldkiss him—pull back just enough to see him, maybe cup his face the way he did to mine all those years ago.I could do it.
He stands so still in my arms, the only movement coming from the expansion of his rib cage beneath my hands. His face is turned into my hair, breath tickling the top of my ear every time he exhales. I slide my hand up his back, feeling daring. There’s no way he can’t feel my heart pounding right now, pressed close as we are, but he remains stationary so I keep going until my fingertips touch the bare skin of his neck.
It feels easy, like this, with the lights low and my face pressed into his shoulder. Maybe this is how it could always be. I skim my hand up the rest of the way until my fingers sink into his hair, enjoying the way it feels against my skin. He sighs against my temple, and my heart kicks up a notch. I lean back a bit, Nigel immediately loosening his arms as he misinterprets this as me wanting him to let go. My own tighten in response, and I slide a hand down to rest on his shoulder.
Before I completely lose my nerve, I lean in and press my lips to his cheek. It’s not the same as actually kissing him, and not nearly enough, but it’ssomething.
Nigel
I slide up to Troy, slamming him into the boards in a celebratory hug.
“That shit’s going to make the highlight reel.” I tell him.
“Fucking right.” Monroe skates up, piling against us and knocking my helmet into the glass. The crowd is subdued, seeing as it’s mainly Minnesota fans and it’s their goalie that Troy just embarrassed with that dangle.
The score is 2-0 in favor of us, Monroe and Troy both putting one on the board, and with only a handful of minutes left on the clock it seems like Lawson is headed for another notch on his shutout belt. As we skate back toward the bench, Corwin bumps his shoulder against mine and I grin around my mouthguard. Reserved as he is, that’s practically the same as him holding my hand.
Less than a minute left in the game, and Corwin is hurtling down the ice; I watch him fake out the defensemen with footwork that makes my own knees groan in protest. The goalie is too focused on him, though, clearly expecting him to shoot, so instead he drops the puck to me seconds before he’s checked into the boards. I send a slapshot into the wide-open net, lamp lighting up just seconds before the final buzzer.
It’s a jovial crew that heads back to the hotel, bus ringing with happiness. Lawson is trying to organize everyone into going out, which is proving to be a difficult task in Minnesota as there aren’t any bars within walking distance.
“What the hell else is there to do here but drink?” Lawson mutters angrily.
In the end, cabs are arranged and everyone heads upstairs to change, Coach shouting warnings about the early flight tomorrow and curfew for the rookies. Troy, who’s walking beside me, pulls his beanie off in a haphazard way that leaves his damp hair sticking straight up. It’s adorable, and I see a teenage girl openly ogle him as we walk through the lobby; he’s smiling down at his phone, oblivious.
“Did Sam watch the game?”
“Yeah.” He smiles at me. “He said nice goal, but mine was better.”
I roll my eyes, pressing the up arrow at the elevator bank. Troy motions toward the stairwell and I look at him sideways. “Did we not just play an entire hockey game?”
We’re joined by Lawson and Corwin, and I only allow myself a fleeting look at Corwin before I turn away. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit that makes his eyes even brighter, contrasting starkly with the rich brown of his hair. I can smell his aftershave, the scent lingering in the collar of his shirt long after it’s been washed off his skin. I stand next to him inside the elevator, stupidly grateful that four large hockey players limits the space and our shoulders are pressed together.
“You in for tonight, guys?” Lawson turns, putting his back to the corner so he can see everyone.
“Rain check.” Corwin says, and Troy looks up, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“Same here. I’m going to FaceTime Sam.”
Lawson nods, not surprised by either of these answers. I stay quiet, knowing the question wasn’t meant for me. He looks at me. “And you, Saint?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s alright, I’ll probably call it an early night.”
“Come on.” He says, reaching out to tap his fingers against my upper arm. “We’ve got to celebrate that goal, and this bar is hosting ladies night tonight so even someone as ugly as you should be able to find a date.”
Fuck. I should go, particularly since it’s Lawson inviting me, and he’s close friends with Corwin. I want him to like me so that down the road it’s not a big deal when he finds out about us, hopefully. But what I don’t want is to spend the night pretending to be interested in chasing women; this time last year I would have been all for it, but now I just want one person. And that person will be in this hotel, probably wondering if I’m out trying to get laid.
“Uh, yeah, alright. I’ll come out for a bit.” I brush my fingers against Corwin’s.
The elevator dings, depositing us on our floor. Troy immediately steps off, walking toward his room with purpose; Corwin follows, and I watch the back of him morosely.
“Hey Troy, make sure you comb your hair before you get on FaceTime.” Lawson calls, opening his own door, “You look like you were electrocuted.”
“At least I can fix my hair.” Troy shoots back. “You’re stuck with that face.”
I snort, swiping into my room. I look back over my shoulder again, and watch as Corwin disappears into his own room, door clicking shut softly behind him.
