AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I do. I really, really do. I can’t picture him as anything other than slim, and I don’t bother putting much effort into it. He’s perfect the way he is.
“Well, like I said. I think I’d feel a little better with more endorphin rushes in my life. If I got some of these muscles in theprocess, it would just be an added bonus.” He runs an appraising fingertip over my shoulder and down the groove of my bicep.
“This appointment you have tomorrow…how would you have gotten there if I’d said no?” This has been bothering me for some time now. He told me that hardly any people know how severe his vision impairment is, or how much it’s affected his life; so, who’s been taking him places these past two years before I got here?
“Oh, the bus. Or, more likely, an Uber. That’s always what I do.”
“Jesus. That sucks.”
“Yeah. No other choice, though.”
“But don’t you have people you could ask for help?” My thoughts immediately jump to Corwin and Troy, as they always do.
“No.” He adjusts his head, and then reaches down to snag a sheet. He pulls it over both of us. “Well, just you, I guess. I don’t particularly enjoy asking, though. People have their own lives, and I don’t like relying on others.”
“I can see that. But I’d like it if you relied on me, just a bit.”Please, please, rely on me. Rely on me so much that you never ask me to leave.
“You’re nothing like I expected you to be, Anthony Lawson,” he says, and sounds improbably sad again.
“You’re nothing like I expected you to be, either, Nico Mackenzie.” He laughs, gracing me with another smile.
“Blind?”
I know he means this as a joke, but it’s a self-depreciating one and it makes me wonder about how he really feels about himself. He does it when he talks about those thin scars on his face, too; making a joke to distract from his discomfort. Sometimes, I get the impression that Nico doesn’t like himself much at all.
Nico
It’s more than midway through our summer training, and I’ve been living on such a high it feels criminal. The boys are playing well, learning and growing, becoming more of a unit. Morgan, in particular, has made great strides as a player even though he remains aloof, otherwise. Anthony and I have continued on as we started, spending nearly all day and night together on the days we have hockey camp. I’d like to say that it’s just fucking, but that’s a level of delusion even I can’t sustain.
I can see it; exactly what we would be if we did away with my rules, and treated our relationship like a normal one. Anthony—selfless, kind, beautiful Anthony—would be exactly the kind of partner I always hoped I’d find one day. I wish I’d met him years ago, when I was young, reckless, and fun; worthy of someone like him.
What I really wish is that I had somebody I could talk to about all of this. A friend—somebody I could sit down, lay all the facts out for, and sit back while they told me what to do. I wish Martin Tremblay wasn’t a homophobic asshole, and I could call him up and pick his brain. Or, rather, his wife, who would probably be more help in this situation.
Frowning down at my coffee mug, I spin it a few times in my hand. It’s Saturday, which means no SCU hockey camp and no Anthony. We don’t see each other outside of practice days, because there’d be no reason to. No reason unless we were dating, which we’re not, because it’s against the rules. My rules. Rules I’d put in place to protect myself, but also him; rules that have started to feel like hands around my neck, cutting off my air supply.
There are only three weeks left until the end of camp. Three weeks until there is no professional reason for Anthony to come here, unless I give him a personal one. But the end of the summer also means the start of the NHL preseason, and I don’t know what to do. The thought of not seeing Anthony again makes me feel physically ill; cold and hot, somehow simultaneously, unsteady and aching. Like my body is telling me to grab onto him with both hands and never let go, because people like him only come around once in a lifetime.
Picking up my phone, I dial his number. He answers on the first ring, a smile in his voice that makes my stomach clench in pain.
“Nico! How are you?” He always sounds so happy to hear from me. I wish I felt like I deserved it. “You okay?”
“Hi, Anthony, yes, everything is fine.” I’ve never called him on a non-camp day, so the concern is warranted. He probably thought I was calling him with an emergency. “You left your hat here, last night.”
“My hat?”
“Yeah,” I run a finger over the brim of the offending ballcap, sitting next to my coffee mug, “the Duluth Trading Company one.”
“Oh, oops. No problem, I don’t need it. I can get it on Monday when I come by.”
“Yeah,” the hat is well-worn, stained in a few places and the fabric shabby on the brim. It smelled like him when I picked it up off the chair, this morning, “or, if you wanted, we could get together today and I could give it back to you.”
The silence on the other end of the line is loud. Not surprising, given the threadbare excuse I just gave him to try and get him to come over. We’ve never seen each other on a day where we hadn’t had practice first, and the knowledge of that issitting heavy between us. I doubt Anthony expected me to be the one to bridge that gap.
“Really?” He says, sounding so hopeful it makes me feel awful.Christ, when did I become such an asshole?
“Yeah,” I’ve said that so many times, it no longer sounds like a real word. “If you want.”
“Well, yeah, sure. Right now? Can I come right now?”
