Page 2 of Him
Honestly, my sexual orientation is probably the worst-kept secret on this team. The guys know. The coaches know. They just don’t care.
Cassel cares, but in a different way. He doesn’t give a shit that I like to fuck dudes. Nope, what he cares about is me. He’s told me on more than one occasion that he thinks I’m wasting my life moving from one anonymous encounter to another.
“Who says he was straight?” I say mockingly.
My buddy looks intrigued. “Seriously?”
I arch a brow again, which makes him laugh.
Truth is, I doubt the frat brother I hooked up with last night is gay. Bi-curious, more like it, and I won’t lie—that was the appeal. It’s easier to mess around with the ones who are gonna pretend you don’t exist in the morning. One night of no-strings fun, a BJ, a fuck, whatever their liquid courage allows them to try, and then they disappear. Act like they didn’t spend the hours leading up to it eyeing my tats and picturing my mouth around their dicks. Like they didn’t run their greedy hands all over my body and beg me to touch them.
Hook-ups with gay guys are potentially more complicated. They might want more. Like commitment. Promises I’m unable to make.
“Wait,” I demand when I register what he’d said before. “What do you mean Em dragged you home?”
Cassel’s jaw tightens. “Exactly what it sounds like. She showed up at the frat house and dragged me out.” His features relax, but only slightly. “She was just worried about me, though. My cell died so I wasn’t answering any of her texts.”
I say nothing. I’ve given up on trying to get Cassel to see the light about that chick.
“I would’ve gotten trashed if she hadn’t shown up. So…uh, yeah, I guess it was cool of her to come get me before I got too wasted.”
I bite my tongue. Nope, not getting involved in the man’s relationship. Just because Emily happens to be the clingiest, bitchiest, craziest chick I’ve ever met doesn’t give me the right to interfere.
“Besides, I know how she feels about me partying. I shouldn’t have gone in the first place—”
“You’re not fucking married,” I blurt out.
Shit. So much for keeping my mouth shut.
Cassel’s expression goes stricken.
I hastily backpedal. “Sorry. Ah…forget I said that.”
His cheeks hollow, jaw working as if he’s grinding his molars to dust. “No. I mean, shit. You’re right. We’re not married.” He mumbles something I can’t make out.
“What?”
“I said…not yet, anyway.”
“Not yet?” I echo in horror. “For fuck’s sake, man, please, please tell me you aren’t engaged to that girl.”
“No,” he says quickly. Then he lowers his voice again. “But she keeps saying how she wants me to propose.”
Propose? The thought makes my skin crawl. Goddamn it, I’m gonna be the best man at their wedding, I just know it.
Is it possible to make a wedding toast without acknowledging the bride?
Luckily, Coach O’Connor marches into the room before this insane conversation with Cassel can make my mind spin any harder.
The room falls silent at his entrance. Coach is…commanding. Nah. Make that terrifying. Six-five, perpetual scowl, and a head he shaves not because he’s balding, but because he just likes looking like a scary motherfucker.
He starts off the meeting by reminding us—one by one—what each of us did wrong in practice yesterday. Which is completely unnecessary, because yesterday’s criticism still burns in my gut. I screwed up one of the faceoff drills, dropped passes I had no business dropping, missed on goal when I had an easy shot. It was just one of those crappy practices where nothing goes right, and I’ve already vowed to get my shit together when we hit the ice tomorrow.
The post-season is down to just two fateful games, which means I need to stay sharp. I need to be focused. Northern Mass hasn’t won a Frozen Four championship in fifteen years, and as the leading scorer, I’m determined to seal this victory before I graduate.
“All right, let’s get to it,” Coach announces after he’s finished telling us how much we suck. “We’re starting with this Rainier-Seattle game from last week.”
As a frozen image of a college arena fills the huge screen, one of our left wings wrinkles his forehead. “Why are we starting with Rainier? We’re playing North Dakota in the first round.”
