Between the Pipes (Offsides #3)

by J.J. Mulder

I’m not sure what is in the air around here, but Carter Morgan could give Coach Mackenzie a run for his money in a scowling competition. “Hey.” I whack my stick against the front of his pads, drawing his dark blue eyes to mine. “Lose the face. I’m asking you to do a drill, not get a fucking root canal.”

“Anthony.” He grunts. “What, Nico?” Despite myself, the response makes me smile. Nobody calls me Nico, and I’m fairly certain nobody calls him Anthony either.

“I swear to god, if you ask me if I’ve got a problem with queer people again I’m going to pull over and beat the shit out of you. Not because you’re gay, but because you’re an asshole.” I laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. Jesus Christ.

I sit up, suddenly. This is Sam I’m talking to. “So, crazy thing, I sucked my first dick last night.” Coughing explodes from the other side of the line. “Sorry, swallowed wrong,” Sam sputters. He takes another gulp of water, his swallow audible over the phone. “Sorry,” he says again, “did I hear you right?” “If you heard dick sucking, then yes.”

Morgan raises a gloved hand in Vasel’s direction, which is an unexpected surprise. Morgan is as friendly as a pit viper—a wave is the nicest gesture I’ve ever seen from him. If he ever truly smiles, I’ll drop dead of shock.

Before they skate off, Vas taps his stick on Morgan’s leg pads, and Morgan offers a glove for a fist bump. I almost cheer in delight. If nothing else is accomplished this summer, please let me at least leave Carter Morgan with a fucking friend.

“Anthony.” “Don’t Anthony me, what the fuck, Nico. You didn’t report him, did you? He got off with a slap on the wrist while your career was ruined! He could have killed you.” Okay, so maybe it was a little hasty of me to be feeling good.

As though summoned by our conversation, I get a text notification and check my phone to see a message from Sam. Troy just got home. He had fun and also told me that he thinks you and Nico are fucking. I’ll go ahead and leave that conversation for you, shall I?

I don’t particularly enjoy asking, though. People have their own lives, and I don’t like relying on others.” “I can see that. But I’d like it if you relied on me, just a bit.” Please, please, rely on me. Rely on me so much that you never ask me to leave.

“I think we should stay together. Actually together, though, not this shit where we hook up and pretend it’s nothing more. I think we should get rid of your rules, because I want to fucking kiss you and I want to spend the entire night together. There are a couple other things I want, too, but we can start with that.”

“Thanks, Coach.” I don’t know what he’s thanking me for, or whether I earned it, but I’ll take it. “Anytime you want to talk.” He turns to leave. “Oh, and Carter?” “Yeah?” “Take that damn thing out of your nose.” He tips me a wink and a salute, sauntering out to join his teammates.

Above his dresser, in a spot he’d see it every day, is the quick sketch I’d done and given him. It’s framed, and is the only piece of artwork he has hung up in the entire house. My eyes burn as I stare at it. He wouldn’t have kept it if I—we—didn’t mean anything to him.