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“I do.” I tell him, nodding once. Sitting up, I reach out and rest a hand back on his thigh. His eyes follow the movement, staying locked on my hand. Eventually, his gaze comes back to mine.
“That’s insane.”
Snorting a laugh, I give his leg a squeeze. “It is.” I agree.
Later—much later—Corwin tuns off the lamp and we settle down to sleep. I want to wrap an arm around him, fall asleep with his smooth cheek pillowed on my chest. As usual, however, he’s a foot away and wrapped up in the sheets like a burrito.Adorable.Blindly, I reach out for him in the dark. When I make contact with his shoulder, I slide my hand down until I can tangle our fingers together.
He makes a small sound, bringing our linked hands up to tuck beneath his chin. It takes him barely five minutes to fall asleep, breathing deepening and his grip loosening on mine. I remain awake for longer, thinking about our conversation.I don’t want you to leave, Corwin had said, and if he had stabbed me with a knife it would have hurt less.
He had meant something else, but to me those words equaltraded. It was January already, and on this side of the holidays the trade deadline loomed a lot closer. My agent hasn’t called with an offer from any team, let alone South Carolina, and the possibility of having to leave is twisting my stomach into knots. For so long hockey has been my focus—I worked hard to get to where I am, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. I love it.
But what happens if I’m traded and Corwin remains; do we do a long-distance relationship? One where we spend summers together, but then go months without seeing one another during the season? Uncomfortable, I adjust myself, moving closer to him and tightening my grip on his hand. Sighing, I resign myself to a sleepless night of endless thoughts ofwhat happens if I’m traded?circling through my head.
“Nigel?” Corwin’s voice is low, the cadence already weighted with sleep. I must have woken him up with my fidgeting.
“Sorry, go back to sleep. I was just moving a little closer to you.”
He’s silent for a moment; long enough that I wonder if he’s already fallen back asleep. “Are you okay?” He asks.
Loaded question.“Yeah, I just…actually, do you think it would be fine if we slept a little closer, tonight?” The words are out of my mouth before I can wrangle them back. Slightly embarrassed, I’m suddenly grateful for the dark room and Corwin’s inability to see my face.
“Sure.” He says, and lets go of my hand.
There is a rustle of sheets as he scootches over to me. I’m surprised when I feel the soft fabric of his shirt brush my chest—I hadn’t been expecting him to move that close. Before he can settle his head on my pillow, I lay onto my back and slide an arm around his shoulders, directing his head onto my chest. I smile at the ceiling when he doesn’t fight me on it, and even goes one step further by laying a leg over the top of mine. His hair is tickling my chin, and I angle my face downward until I can breathe him in.
“Okay?” He whispers.
“Yes, perfect, thank you.” I tighten the arm around him, and feel him lay his palm on the opposite side of my chest that his cheek is on. I doubt he’ll be able to sleep well like this. “I just need a few minutes, then you can roll back over.”
“That’s alright.” He wiggles a little closer. “This is kind of nice. You’re warm.”
If I could bring him closer, I would. He feels so good, long body firm against mine; Corwin’s clothes are soft against my skin, and I can feel his breath when he exhales. I decide it’s worth a shot to try and pull him in further, elated when it works and Corwin moves up until his face is in the crook of my shoulder and he’s half laying on top of me. He sighs, nose nudging my neck. Before I fall asleep, I whisper one moreI love youto the top of his head.
???
We drive together to the airport, deciding that we’ll simply tell anyone who asks that Corwin offered his spare room to me until I can find a place of my own. Nobody needs to know I’m not actually searching. We’re unloading our bags when a car pulls up next to us and Corwin stiffens, uncertainly. Troy hops out of the driver’s seat and flashes me a smile.
“Hey.” He calls, rounding the back of his Jeep to get his bags.
“Hi, Troy.” I return the smile and watch as he looks over to where Corwin is standing stock still, staring at his friend.
“Hey, Cor. How are you guys doing? Ready for New York?” Troy asks, falling into step beside us as we head toward the plane. Between us, Corwin is still tense, gaze continually falling on Troy. I wish I could reach out and run a soothing hand over his back.
“We’re good,” Corwin answers, with a side-eyed glance toward me, “how about you? Sam going to make it out to any of the games up North?”
“Maybe Jersey. I hope he can—I kind of hate road trips now.” A faint blush stains Troy’s cheeks at this admission, and he grins sheepishly at us.
Noting that nobody else is within hearing distance of our group, I shrug and agree. “I hate them too. It’s hard sleeping in an empty hotel bed when you’re used to being with someone.”
“Agreed.” Corwin whispers, hand brushing mine.
When we board, I snag a window seat and settle in as Corwin prepares to claim the spot next to me. Before he can sit down, Troy grabs his forearm.
“Can we sit together?” Troy asks, voice barely discernable over the sound of the idle plane engine.
“Sure.” Corwin looks to me to confirm. “Of course.”
They choose the seats directly across the aisle from me. I watch them, noting Corwin’s ducked head as he fastens his seatbelt unnecessarily early, and Troy fidgets. It’s not a terribly long flight, thankfully, and we don’t have a game until tomorrow. I plan on corralling Corwin the second we get to the hotel, and hearing about whatever Troy had to say on the flight.
