Page 34 of Drop the Gloves
He avoided thinking about anything remotely sexy during the day because he was worried his dick would betray him.The problem was, he wasn’t even sure what he thought was sexy anymore.If fighting with Barczyk could set him off, then Evan didn’t have a good gauge of what was fueling his sudden surge in sexual desire.Did he have a kink for sparring that he hadn’t known about?Was he so touch-starved that he’d mistaken punching and tackling for sexual advances?
There were…other possibilities.Evan wasn’t an idiot.There was another common factor, and if he were actually curious, a few experimental fantasies would help him know for sure.
He didn’t want to know.
Plausible deniability was his excuse in the rare moments when he got too close to addressing it.As far as Evanknew, he wasn’t attracted to men, which meant he couldn’t be attracted to Barczyk.Done, case closed.
If any chinks appeared in that defense, well…
So despite being hornier than he’d been since puberty, he limited himself to drowsy masturbatory sessions and nothing else.At first he worried that it might leave him feeling on edge all day, but the early release mellowed him out for the rest of the day and got him through his increasingly frequent encounters with Barczyk.
Barczyk, who really treated Evan no differently than he had before, seemed to have adopted Evan as his best friend on the team.He sat next to Evan during travel and team meals.He invited Evan to hang out (though thankfully to very public venues that included other team members, and he was never offended if Evan declined).For better or worse, he also included Evan in his new pre-game routine.
“Abs!”
The whack to his ass took him by surprise.Granted, through his hockey pants, it was about as annoying as if a gnat had landed on him, but it still made him look over his shoulder to see what the heck had hit him.He’d assumed it was an errant puck—it wouldn’t be the first time a teammate had hit him by accident during warm-ups—but instead he found Barczyk standing behind him, winding up his stick like a baseball bat.
“What are you”—Barczyk swung and hit Evan on the ass again—“doing?”
“Well, last game I did it, and it was lucky, so I thought I should do it again.”
“Lucky?Didn’t we lose that game?”
“Yeah, in OT.We should’ve lost in regulation, but luckily we squeaked by with a point.So if it helped during a game when we sucked, imagine what it could do for us if we play well.”
Evan raised an eyebrow.That was absolutely stupid, and while he suspected Barczyk knew it was bullshit, his expression gave nothing away.Plenty of guys had completely insane sounding superstitions that seemed to work for them—Evan’s only superstition was a shamrock keychain his grandma had gotten him when he was five; he’d won his first tournament shortly after, so he’d used it since—and he’d learned a long time ago never to question anyone’s mojo.And it made sense that Barczyk, who was more off the rails than most, would have an equally off the rails idea of how to generate luck.
Deciding playing along would be his best bet, he asked, “So if we win, does that mean you’re going to do it again next game?”
“Oh, for sure.Except I’ll have to up it to three times to keep it going.”
“Doesn’t seem like much motivation for me to win,” Evan said.“The more we win, the more I get smacked.”
Barczyk considered him and didn’t sound like he was joking when he said, “I’m sure we can figure something out.Like maybe if it works, we can alternate who does the smacking.”
Evan pushed Barczyk in the chest.“Stop,” he groaned.“We’re not hitting each other before games.We’re not children.”
“Because everyone on this team is so mature,” Barczyk countered.He hooked a thumb towards their goalie, Farrell.“It’s totally normal to tap the posts 31 times during warmups and after each intermission.”Then he nodded to Lawson.“And it’s definitely not childish to have to squirt water at everyone who scores as they come onto the bench.And I’m tots not getting tired of Big Katie making us listen to Taylor Swift before overtime.Everyone in hockey is a giant man-child, and we’re no exceptions.Just gotta have fun with it while you can.”
It was true.Evan was self-aware enough to recognize the bubble of adulthood he lived in where he was half independent adult, half coddled child who had the privilege to play a sport for a living.If he wanted to, he could have the team manage everything for him, from catered meal plans to chauffeurs to his living arrangements.The little ways he took care of himself were small in the scheme of things, remembering all too well how difficult adulting could be from his mom working three jobs.He’d always been embarrassed about how easy he had it now.Leave it to Barczyk to think of it as ‘fun.’
“Here.”Barczyk spun around and looked over his shoulder.“I’m a good sport.Go ahead, have your turn.”
“My turn?”And then when Barczyk leaned forward a little, ass sticking out, Evan understood and felt his cheeks burn.He debated refusing but figured it would only prolong this debacle if he argued.The fastest way out was in, so he lifted his stick, took aim for the area with the most pads, and swung.
Barczyk shot him an unimpressed look.“Jesus, I think that was so lame you gave the other team luck.C’mon, Abs.Like you mean it.”
The second time wasn’t much harder, but he put more into it.As soon as he made contact, Barczyk let out a dramatic yelp and fell onto his knees, sliding across the ice and acting like he was in agony.
Evan stood there dumbfounded.When he looked around, no one else on the team was paying them any mind…but the fans pressed against the glass were watching with a keen interest Evan didn’t think had ever been turned on him before.A few had their phones out and were giggling at Barczyk.When this showed up on social media later, he had no doubt he’d be in the videos.Acting like a child.
“Much better.”Barczyk hopped up and skated over.“Let’s get that mojo rolling in the game, yeah?”
“You know what would help?”Evan said, desperate to have a normal, hockey-focused interaction.“If we, y’know, practiced some hockey.”He grabbed a nearby puck and started drifting backward with it.“Pass with me?Maybe you’ll remember how to do it when we play.”
Barczyk blinked at him, then barked out a laugh.“I think I can handle that, Abs.I’m good for the occasional apple every now and then.”
To be fair, Evan had scored three times so far this season, and he was pretty sure Barczyk had assisted on all three.Since Barczyk had only put up two goals of his own, he had more ‘apples’ than Evan did.He thought of that as they passed the puck back and forth through traffic.For all his antics and trash talking, Barczyk was talented.He got every pass to Evan, even when people skated through them for their own warm-up routine, all of them beautiful tape-to-tape passes that could go in a hockey textbook.
