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When Troy and I leave the office there is still color high on his cheekbones, and it makes me smile. I’ve played hockey against this guy for the last three years, and I wasn’t expecting him to be quite like this.
“So, that’s the boyfriend, huh?” He nods and I whistle. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.” He’s still blushing, but smiling in a pleased sort of way. We stop, and he points me down the hallway to the last door on the right. “There you go. I’m going to hit the ice; I’ll meet you out there?”
“Sure. See you later, Troy.” I watch as he retraces our steps down the hallway, somehow feeling lighter than I had earlier.
???
I’m already fully dressed and sitting in my stall, watching as the locker room fills up around me. South Carolina is a young team, and a lot of these guys have been playing together for years; several of them have spent their entire NHL careers here, and it shows. There is an unmistakable ease and comradery to this locker room that was missing from my previous teams. These guys don’t just play hockey together, they’re family. No wonder Troy had no qualms about coming out to me the way he did.
As they often do, my thoughts turn to Corwin, and it’s as though I summoned him out of thin air.Fuck, fuck, fuck. I look down at the floor between my knees; he’s on the other side of the room, chatting with a few of the new recruits. I can pick his voice out easily over the din of the room, and it makes a cold sweat break out between my shoulders. I don’t think I can do this.
But I don’t have a choice in the matter, as a pair of shoes steps into my line of vision where it’s still trained on the floor. I don’t have to look up to know. “Hey, Nigel.”
He remembers.It would have been kinder of him to just deck me. I lift my head and look into the blue eyes that I’ve thought of every damn day for the past six years. He looks exactly the same; more filled out across the chest and shoulders, perhaps, but that same thick brown hair and sharp-boned face. I’ve seen him on the ice, of course, but without the extra padding or helmet it’s as though we’ve stepped back in time to Florida and we’re meeting again for the first time. If only that were the case. I stand.
“Hi, Corwin.” We’re the same height, making us eye level now that I’m not seated. My gaze tracks over his face but it’s as though he’s wearing a mask, so inscrutable is his expression. I remember him being a little easier to read six years ago. He holds out his hand and I look down at it, dumbly, as though I’ve never been presented with a handshake before.
“Welcome to the team.”
I feel like I’m dragging my arm through water as I lift it up to clasp his hand in mine. I want to run my thumb over the back of his hand, which probably makes me the dumbest motherfucker alive. I settle for a firm handshake, and let go quickly. I can’t stop looking at him—is it possible he got better looking over the summer?
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”Also, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“Cor!” Troy walks over, one of the few who is already fully dressed like me. He nudges his shoulder against Corwin’s and I watch as the latter’s face opens into a small smile.
“How long have you been here, then?” Corwin asks Troy, amusement coloring his tone.
“Not long.”
Corwin hums as though he knows this is a lie. Hitching his bag further up his shoulder he looks back at me. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod, and watch as he walks over to his stall. I pointedlydon’twatch as he starts to undress. For want of anything better to do, I look around the room, gaze meeting Anthony Lawson’s across the room. He flips me off.
“He’s a huge fan.” Troy confides, which startles a laugh from me.
“I’ll make sure to autograph something for him.”
He snorts with laughter, and I see Corwin look over his shoulder at the sound. Our eyes meet across the room, holding for several heartbeats. I’m the first to look away.
Corwin
There is a trick I learned as a kid to center my mind; five seconds is all I give myself to panic or stress, and once that five seconds is up it’s time to move on. I have been counting down from five ever since I walked into the locker room this morning.
Troy’s laughter rings out and I look over my shoulder despite myself, locking eyes with Nigel. He looks away and I turn back to my stall, methodically going through the motions of changing.
Five…four…three…two…one.
My mother often complains that men age better than women, and she would be right. Six years separate the last time I was this close to Nigel without a hockey puck between us, and those six years have obviously been kind to him. And unkind to me, if the desire snaking up my spine is any indication.
It had been too much to hope that I would feel differently than I did back then, that some chemical change might have occurred in my brain—a rewiring for survival’s sake. No such luck; he was attractive to me then, and he’s attractive to me now. The chocolate brown of his hair, his coffee-colored eyes, and that creamy olive skin—every inch of him plucked straight from my dreams. And every inch of him as unattainable now as he was then.
Shame and embarrassment curl like acid in my stomach, and I get a vivid memory of warm, wet skin, and a dark alley. I restart the timer in my mind,five…four…
“What’s up with you?”
I turn toward Lawson, who’s leaning against the stall next to mine, voice pitched low for me alone. I don’t know how he gets a read on me like that since I’m positive my face doesn’t reflect anything of what I’m feeling; he’s like one of those seizure dogs, sniffing out a medical emergency before it happens.
