Page 14 of Scoring Slater
Every cell in Noah's body demanded that he eliminate the small distance between them. That he claim Slater's lips. That he surrender to the desire drawing him like a magnetic force.
But this was Slater. His roommate. His best friend. His teammate. Any one of those was a reason to stop. But all three together were setting off alarms ofdanger, back away, game over,just as they had for months. He couldn't escape it. "We shouldn't do this."
"Why not?"
He forced himself to pull his hand away from Slater's face. "We're teammates. And roommates. Best friends. There are too many complications."
Lust turned to confusion then to anger. Noah watched, transfixed as the emotions played across Slater's face. He fingers tightened around the hand he'd clasped on the blanket. "Are you saying that you don't feel this? Because your body says otherwise. Your pupils are blown, you're breathing faster, and that bulge in your jeans is huge."
Heat flared fast and bright, scattering across his body like tiny explosions. "It doesn't matter. You're my best friend. I can't lose that."
"You wouldn't lose that."
"If we start something here and it doesn't work out, then I lose the most important relationship in my life. It could mess things up for the team too." They weren't all the reasons, and their relationship compelled him to be honest. He didn't want there to be a media circus about them dating. "You live your life so publicly and I'll never be comfortable doing that. We'd end up hating each other. I can't risk that."
"This isn't just attraction or sex for me. I care about you. I want things with you."
Noah pulled his hand free, hating himself for what he had to admit. "I don't think I can give them to you."
CHAPTER FIVE
The energy of the Bedlam arena on game day couldn't be matched anywhere else in the league. Slater soaked up the fans' cheers, waved to kids in the crowd and posed for selfies with any fan who held up a phone in question. With the music blasting a frenetic hard rock beat, he took his spot by Rod, passing pucks to his teammates.
He'd slept like shit, thanks to Noah. They hadn't spoken outside of necessities like, "Time to head to the rink." Their four car rides that day: to the morning skate, then to lunch with the guys, then back to the apartment to chill and grab a pre-game nap, and then to the arena for the game, had existed in silence aside from the music blaring from Slater’s playlist. Being around him was torture.
He was annoyed. And hurt. Part of him understood Noah's reluctance. He wasn't wrong, being roommates and best friends and teammates could complicate things, but they were so good together. Noah not even wanting to try gutted him. He couldn't deny the social media complaint either. Interacting with the fans gave him something, filled a void. No matter what time of day he posted, there were always people there. The same couldn’t be said for members of his own family. Texts and phone calls from his parents were rare. His relationship with the fans went two ways. For as much as they liked seeing his posts, their comments and support meant the world to him.
Members of the Philadelphia Power warmed up on the other half of the ice. Vince's dad was their head coach. Father and son were sharing a joint interview on the broadcast with Kelsey.
Slater skated past the camera, and grabbed a water bottle off the bench. He stood at the end, just outside of the red line at center ice and scanned the jerseys for a familiar number.
"Knoxie!"
Slater spun toward the voice. Max Reilly, defenseman for Philly, climbed over the bench and skated toward him. They'd grown up together, next door neighbors, teammates and friends from the time they were five all the way through high school. They'd even roomed together during summer breaks in their college days. Max was the reason he’d started playing hockey in the first place. He had Max’s family to thank for the countless number of rides to games and practices too.
Slater hugged him. "Hey. Nice goal the other night."
"Thanks. Nice fight." Max thumped him on the back twice before stepping back.
"I do what I can. Sullivan had it coming after he threw an elbow in Celek's face."
Max nodded. "I saw the replay."
"How's Philly?"
"Awesome. You'll have to come down this summer. How are things here?"
Slater glanced at his roommate circling the ice and waving to kids in the crowd. "Fine."
"Your face and tone don't seem to match up with that word." Max laid his gloved hand on Slater's shoulder. "Something wrong between you and Alzado?"
Unable to find the words, Slater shook his head and shrugged. What could he say?
"Wait. Are you guys together now?" Max glanced between the two of them and his brows drew together. He'd been the first person Slater had come out to at sixteen. He'd also been the first person to call him—right after Leo—when Slater had publicly come out to the fans and hockey community. Max had always been in his corner.
"We're not anything."
"Again, your face and tone don't match your words. You know I'm here for you, bud. Text or call if you need to, okay?"
