Page 31 of The New Guy
I’m terrible at this. The moment we lie back my brain does a tour of my current anxieties. It knows that we’re done with this relaxing bit, and it’s time to go win more hockey games. We have practice right after this, in preparation for our road trip to Florida.
But before I put my skates on, Gavin will want to check the flexibility of my hip. Which means putting his hands on my body.
It’s torture. And he has no idea.
* * *
I leave the yoga studio feeling warm and supple. I tape a new stick and pick up my skates from the equipment room, where the equipment manager has fitted me with a pair of new blades. Everything is going great until I arrive outside the treatment rooms.
There are two trainers working today, and Gavin is popular, so you’d think I’d have a shot at ending up on the other table.
But no. Gavin waves me toward his table as he finishes up a chat with O’Doul about his shoulder. “Ask Henry to tape that donut over it again before the game,” he says.
“Will do!” O’Doul clasps Gavin’s arm on his way out. “Thanks, man.”
Everyone appreciates Gavin. Just not quite in the same way that I do.
“How’d that yoga class go?” he asks as he washes his hands. “Any tightness?”
Yeah, in my briefs. “Not really.”
“Awesome! Feeling smooth in your downward dog?”
“Yup.”Dear Lord, I will do your bidding if I can get out of this room without picturing Gavin naked indownward dog.
Or meandGavin naked, in doggie style…
He palms my shin and prompts me to bend my knee. “Rotate for me. That’s it. We’re going to have to be vigilant with this IT band to keep your hip lubricated.”
Ugh. I can’t think about lubrication right now. His touch is firm and professional. But my body doesn’t see it that way. I feel instantly warmer and wholly aware of how close he is to me. Then there’s his touch, and the citrusy scent of his deodorant. It’s overwhelming.
I’mneverlike this, either. I’m all business at the rink, and in the locker room. Just because I’m attracted to men doesn’t mean I ever obsess about them. Keeping my head out of the gutter has never been difficult.
Until now. I close my eyes and think about a particularly grueling bag skate my coach put us through in juniors. I vomited bright blue Gatorade afterward.
“Keep breathing,” Gavin says. “Am I hurting you?”
Yes. “No.” I inhale again, and get a whiff of his clean, masculine scent.
Fuck. I think about running a beep test at training camp. I think about that time I forgot to empty out my locker, and my jockstrap got moldy.
“It’s going to be brutal, no?”
“Hmm?” I haven’t been listening.
“Zoning out on me, Newgate? I said those back -to-back games in Florida sound brutal.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s a crappy schedule. That’s the second and final time we have two games in two days, though.”
“The schedule is the most shocking thing about hockey. I really had no idea.”
“Yeah,” I say lamely. He probably thinks I’m an imbecile. But that’s better than him cluing in to my thoughts.
Anything is better than that.
“Well, I’ll try to tape you all back together after the first game. Is there anything I should know about the Florida stadiums? Which one has the better setup?”
I replay that question in my mind, because it makes no sense. “You’re coming to Florida?”
