Page 37 of Script
“Sup?” I asked Zeetoo, who jumped a mile and hurriedly shut his phone, then gave me a shit-eating grin.
“Sup,” he replied, then sauntered off in the opposite direction.
“Great talk,” I muttered, then continued my search. I didn’t have to search too long or too hard for my errant non-date-buddy. Finn was in the backyard, running in circles around several palm trees lit from the ground, as kids of various sizes chased him. Some, I assumed, were bad guys, or at least one was, as he had found a green tablecloth and a stick that he was brandishing like a weapon.
“I have glorious porpoises!” Little Loki yelled as he ran after Finn.
Resting my ass against the railing of a wide porch, I watched Finn and the children for several minutes, smiling at their hoots and hollers as they played out some version of a Viking tale I was not familiar with. Thor, Loki, and a tiny version of Black Panther were in charge of the world—which was a small-looking glass orb yard decoration—and had to ward off the other kids, aka bad guys from another planet. Finally, the world-saving ended when Loki was called inside by his mom because it was time to go home to bed. The other kids were rounded up as well, which left Finn standing in Charlie’s tidy yard, panting and sweating, grinning like he had just won an Oscar.
I carried his soda over to him.
“Thanks,” he huffed, taking the cold drink, then draining the red plastic cup in one long pull.
I watched his throat working as he drank, enjoying the movement of muscle as he swallowed. When his gaze met mine, his brilliant blue eyes sparkled with pleasure. My gut clenched as my breathing hiked. It was right then that I knew I needed some space. Friends didn’t get this worked up over a smile. They didn’t leap on their buddy in a bathroom in a fit of jealous insecurity. And they didnotstalk their chum at a party for talking to another guy. This behavior was not me. I didn’t know who it was, but Cam Chavkin it was not. And it terrified the living shit out of me.
“No worries.”
“This has been really fun. Your teammates are so friendly and accepting of you being queer. It’s… well, it’s nice to see in a sport that issomacho.”
“Yeah, they’re great guys. The whole organization is working overtime to ensure that everyone can play the game. Inclusivity is important.”
He nodded, then held up his empty plastic cup. We tapped them together as if they were champagne flutes and not red Solo cups.
“I will drink to that.” He turned his attention to a small group of people who had meandered outside. We did the whole party schmoozing thing, making small talk, eating too much dip, and wishing Charlie had chosen a theme with less fur and horned hats because it was damned warm for pelts covering your body.
“… Stupid!” I heard someone yell and turned to see Charlie dragging his brother into the house, Zeetoo tugging back. Siblings. I feel the pain. I exchanged glances with Prez who shrugged in an “it’s-Zeetoo-what-do-you-expect” kind of way.
Around midnight, I had to drag Finn away from his fans. He had signed a ton of autographs and taken hundreds of selfies.
“Oh hey, all the Storm players and their dates are tagging me on Insta,” he commented as we drove home. The light from his phone illuminated his face as he smiled at the online interaction. I nearly ran up over the curb once as I was so fixated on him. He merely chuckled at the tire bump, then went back to his IG tags as I fumbled over some lame excuse about how my power steering fluid must be low. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I forced myself to watch the road. I did not need to rear-end someone. Well, someone other than Finn. Which sounded good, to be honest. Maybe we both could use a good rear-ending. I knew I wouldn’t mind it at all. My dick started to perk up as I drove, and by the time we were at his house, I was fully erect. Then, he turned to me.
“Thanks for a fun night.”
“It was good to have you there.”
“I like your friends. Your teammate Zeetoo told me this awesome joke about—”
I growled, coming over all territorial, which wasn’t what we had going on at all, and his eyes widened. Then, he smiled and offered me his hand. And all the dirty thoughts vanished in a puff of cold gray smoke. Right, a handshake. Because we were still in buddy mode. I clasped his hand, shook it, and then, said something stupid.
“I’ll escort you to your door.”
Yep, that was the brilliance that is Cam Chavkin. As if this brute of a guy needed me to walk him to his stoop like he was a Georgia debutante.
“It’s only forty feet,” he pointed out. “But sure, if you want.”
I did want. The night didn’t feel as if it should be over yet. And so, in true gallant style, I rushed around the car, opened the door for him, and then, bowed at the waist.
Finn snorted at my nonsense, but allowed me to walk at his side to his front step. He turned to look at me after unlocking and opening the door.
“Did you want to come in?” I heard the subtle underlying question in that simple query. Yes, yes, hell yes, I wanted to come in. I wanted to lock the door on the outside world—the world that still scorned men loving other men—and free Finn from that burden. I wanted to hold him close, taste his skin, feel his body shudder as he found release… I wanted to lie beside him as he slept, then watch the sun cast his skin in deep golden rays.
That last bit put the fear of God into me. Cam Chavkin did not linger in bed with lovers. Knowing that Finn was different from all the others shoved an icy shiv into my heart.
“Yeah, I would, but I’m tired.” I inserted a fake yawn. “I’ll see you at hockey school tomorrow,” I added to lighten the moment I had slaughtered.
“Oh, okay, that sounds good. I’m tired too. It’s hard work being a god of thunder,” he quipped, but I saw the disappointment in his eyes.
I smiled as best I could, then turned to head back to my car. I heard the door close, the knocker giving a barely there clatter as Finn pushed the door shut. I took another step, and then one more, then paused. Staring down at the smooth blacktop, I took a second to try to figure out what the fuck I was doing. What the hell was wrong with my brain to turn down an invitation so laced with carnal pleasures? I could leave before morning came. It would be simple. Fuck, then roll.
