Page 29 of Until He Scores

God, I fucking hated him for making me want him, again.

Chapter 11

Pope

Before Thierry could get two steps from me, I said, “What, since you’re a famous rich boy, you don’t have time to slum it up with us?” Worst thing I could’ve ever said to him. I don’t know what got into me. Why, I thought I could seduce him one second, then shun him the next. I didn’t know a damn thing about what I was doing. Figured I’d treat Thierry like I would any woman I was trying to score, and the longer I stood there, the deeper and wider the chasm between us became.

I’d fucked everything up.

Royally.

The second I stepped onto the compound grounds, I knew he was there. Thierry and me, we had this weird synergy thing going on. If we’d been siblings, thank fuck we weren’t, we’d have been twins. I didn’t care who saw me actively looking for him. If it seemed stalker-like, so be it. I had to get my eyes on him in the flesh. Know my ex-best friend had taken care of himself over the years. Until then, the insatiable need to seek him out consumed me.

Then I went and fucked it all up by kissing him. I’d meant for it to be chaste, like that night all those years ago. However, the second my mouth covered his, I lost my senses. Call it the heatof the moment, but thick, syrupy tendrils of arousal wrapped around me, knocking me stupid. Each swipe of his tongue stirred this indescribable need within me. It pissed me off. I’d convinced myself the action would repulse me. The opposite happened. He retreated and I surged forward, not wanting to break the connection with Theirry. I wanted to consume him and rather than talk to him; I said something stupid. Then, acting like I won some contest, I walked out ofFlamewith a hard dick.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Watching him coach from the bench at the game was the same way. The cruel yearning to reconnect and make Thierry mine tore through my gut, leaving a gaping wound there. I didn’t understand the feeling trapped in my gut. I never thought of myself as being bisexual. Still, I also couldn’t deny the connection I had with Thierry and what that could mean. Or perhaps, what I’d missed all those years ago because I’d been so focused on the game, not what happened around me.

At one time, I’d been like Danny Rojas, that soccer player in the hit streaming series everyone loved. Only hockey was life. I couldn’t wait to lace up my skates and step onto the ice. For years after I quit, I craved the adrenaline rush of stepping into the box and banging my stick against either side of the goal frame, something all tendies did when they were in their goal. I even thanked the goal for having my back at the end of every game. That’s how in the zone I’d been.

However, Thierry, he had thatitfactor. The grit and determination to be the best, and fucking hell, had he done that in spades. I don’t know what I expected going to see some dinky AHL game, but watching theMountaineerswas electric. I couldn’t tear my gaze off the ice. Now I wished I’d seen him play at least once before the accident.

If the way his team flew up and down the ice was any indication on how well he’d prepared them for the game or coached them through the periods, they’d be at the top of the standings in short order. He looked strong out there. Good too. Ever since I started watching his previous games, catching up over the years, some kind of switch flipped inside of me. I questioned everything I knew about myself and wondered if the reason I couldn’t keep a woman by my side was because I’d been gay too and just hadn’t realized it.

Then I watched porn.

As much as gay porn was interesting, to say the least, I didn’t experience that rush of adrenaline and excitement that got my dick hard and throbbing. Yet when I put on something with two men and a woman, especially men who fucked the women then each other, shit. Katy bar the door. But I couldn’t be bisexual, right? I mean, the thought of touching other men on the sly held no appeal to me. Even imagining going farther than trying to kiss a guy left me feeling weird.

Thierry on the other hand...

I don’t know.

My mind shifted back and forth on that point and that question.

Now, watching him sit there at the opposite end of the bar surrounded by the Maysons and a few others I hadn’t had a chance to meet yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I masturbated to the thought of seeing him on his knees in front of me. Or the feel of his mouth on my cock.

I groaned.

If anything, I’d been more confused than sure about what I should’ve done. One minute I thought I knew what I wanted and how to achieve those goals, and in the next, I was tripping over my tongue with Thierry, trying to stay upright without lookingtoo much like a fool. It was as if I never talked to him before or had, and I hated his guts, which was the farthest from the truth.

Accosting Thierry like I’d doneFlame, wasn’t one of my finer moments. Tonight, made the kiss seem innocuous. I came in way too hot and way too strong. I didn’t even apologize to him for being a dick all those years ago or the other day. I just wrapped my arm around his waist, reveled in the way he felt in my arms then, like a drunken, caveman asshole, I pushed my dick against his ass.

Who did that shit?

If I could have gone back and redone the whole situation, I’d have met him head on and asked to talk. Maybe then I’d have had a chance to explain everything to Thierry and figure out what this feeling was growing inside of me. As it was, one minute excitement raced through my veins and in the next, terror paralyzed me. Sadly, our come to Jesus meeting would have to wait for another time. I’d made such an ass of myself, there was no way I could initiate a truce between us and try again.

Not after the shit I’d said anyway.

“You’re batting a thousand tonight,” Wes stated, joining me at the bar while I kept one eye on Thierry.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered with a heavy exhale. “The second I get close to him; my brain flies out the window and my dick takes over.”

“So, you like him?” Wes hedged.

“I don’t know, man. It’s all so new. I don’t even know what my preferenceisanymore. I’ve been questioning my sexuality since the minute we talked at the shop—probably since I was a teen. Now, when I had the chance to reach out to the one person who could help me the most, I shoved him away like he had the bubonic plague.”

Wes crossed his arms and chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in a pickle.”

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