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He bites his lip, fingers tapping against the counter. His plate is largely untouched, and I contemplate going over to remake him something edible to eat. Standing up, I bring my dishes over to the sink, rinsing everything and loading it into the dishwasher. When I turn back around, Nigel’s watching me as if making sure I don’t tip over. Unsure of what I should do, I hover uncertainly in the middle space of the kitchen, facing him.
“You can tell me if something else is going on. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
He eyes me for another second, and then holds his hand out, palm facing up. Immediately, I clasp it and he tugs me gently toward him, leaning forward. He stops before our lips actually meet, as though giving me the chance to pull away, so I close the distance and kiss him. I can only imagine what my dad would think, if he saw me now, kissing a man in my kitchen while he strokes loving fingers up my spine.Fuck you, dad.
Nigel
Corwin catches my eye in the locker room after practice, chatting with Troy over by his stall. I shoot him a quick text, letting him know I’ll be heading home from here and that I’ve got nothing else going. I never assume that he will, but he always invites me over. Every night we weren’t on the road this week, I was at his house; I’m going to be fucked if he doesn’t ask me to sleep over one of these nights—there is no way I’ll be able to sleep in my bed without him now.
He’s looser, somehow, as though he’s more comfortable in his skin these days, and I’ve been welcomed into that secret society of people Corwin smiles at. The emotionless façade is slowly crumbling away. Although we remain distant when we’re in public and at work, at home he’s pretty much an entirely new person. He’s so affectionate, it’s hard to believe there was a time when I questioned how even the lightest touch would be received. Now, Corwin seems to always be reaching for me.
My phone vibrates and I pull it off the shelf in my stall. It’s Corwin, so naturally I can’t keep the grin off of my face. Someone catcalls me from across the room, wanting to know what my girlfriend wants. I don’t bother answering other than a quick flip of the middle finger over my shoulder—let them think what they want.
Come over tonight?
I tap out a quick affirmative and finish packing up my things. It’s been a week of back-to-back games, and although we have an off day tomorrow and Sunday, we still have morning skates and another flight to catch on Monday. Not to mention the charity event tomorrow night that I was able to wrangle a last-minute spot for. I peek over at Corwin, still mulling over how best to tell him I’ll be going. Something tells me he’d prefer I wasn’t there, but an even stronger feeling tells me I need to be.
“See you, guys.” I say to the room at large, as I head out the door. Lawson, who’s warmed up to me drastically in the last few weeks, steps up beside me and slings a companionable arm over my shoulder. I can already tell I’m going to have to let him down easy.
“Saint, what’s up buddy?” I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘Buddy’ is new. “You want to grab a beer at Hank’s?”
“Couldn’t find another taker back there, so you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel?”
“Damn, you got me. Buddy was too far, wasn’t it?”
I laugh, and he pats my back as he slides his arm off my shoulders. Never thought I’d say it, but I like Lawson. I’m glad he’s so close with Corwin, it’s nice to know he’s got a friend like that in his corner. “Sorry,buddy, I already have plans.”
He snorts. “Hot date?”
“Hotter than you, that’s for certain.”
“Well, in that case! People hotter than me don’t come around too often. Go have some fun.”
I roll my eyes, although he’s not exactly wrong; Lawson really is hot. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, at the charity event.”
“Oh shit, they picked you up too? I didn’t know they had you on the roster. Shouldn’t be too bad, though, with Cor there too. We might even have a little fun.”
“Mm.” I hum noncommittally. Apparently, Corwin hasn’t told him that his parents will be in attendance. I’m glad the pair of us are going, though, so we can act as a buffer between Corwin and his dad. Whatever is going on there is obviously toxic, and I’ll be damned if he has to deal with it alone.
“Have a good night, man.” Lawson slaps my back and starts to peel off toward his car.
“Rain check on the beer.” I call after him and he tosses a thumbs-up over his shoulder.
My apartment isn’t far from the practice rink, which was another reason I picked it. In less than fifteen minutes of driving, I’m parking and jogging up five flights of stairs; the sooner I’m packed, the sooner I can get to Corwin’s. I’ve started leaving my bathroom stuff at his house, at his request, so I only need to grab a change of clothes. On second thought, I add a few more things to the bag, on the off chance that I stay the whole weekend. I dig my tuxedo out of the back of the closet, unzipping the garment bag to do a quick visual inspection. Everything looks good so I sling it over my shoulder, grab my duffel, and head out the door.
As I’m jogging down the stairs, my phone vibrates with a text. Hands full, I don’t check it until I get to the car. He’s texted me, asking me to stop and pick up a take-out order he placed at a local Italian restaurant; looks like I’m not the only one feeling the strain of the long week. He really must be exhausted if he isn’t in the mood to cook.
Practice ran over so it’s late and fully dark outside by the time I finally pull into Corwin’s driveway. Grabbing my stuff and the food, I bypass the front door and head to the back; he always leaves the backdoor unlocked for me, so I can just come in when I get here. It’s quiet when I slip inside, only a single kitchen light illuminating the room. No Corwin.
Setting everything down, I duck into the living room and am just about to call out when I see him. He’s asleep, curled up on the couch in what I consider his home uniform: hoodie and sweats. His knees are pulled up into the fetal position, and his head is pillowed on one arm, the other dangling from the couch like it slipped off when he fell asleep. I feel such a deep rush of affection; it takes me a moment to catch my breath. If only he wasn’t so big and there was room enough for me to slide in behind him on the couch.
I walk around to the front, kneeling between the coffee table and couch, hoping I’m not about to scare the shit out of him by waking him up. I grab his hand, gently, running my thumb over the back of his. Slowly, he opens his eyes and, seeing me at eye level, smiles. I loosen my grip on his hand as he sits up, but he tightens his fingers around mine and keeps ahold of me.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He tells me, groggily, and reaches a hand out to touch the side of my face.
“Long week.” I murmur.
