Shots on Net (SCU Hockey, #1)

by J.J. Mulder

The man standing in front of me, whom I assume is Carter Morgan III, looks like the kind of person who would rob Carter Morgan III at gunpoint.

“You want some soup or something? No offense, but you look like a corpse.”

“Full offense, but you look like someone who deals weed to middle schoolers.”

“You look twelve, or something.”

“And you look like someone who breaks kneecaps for the mafia,” he retorts.

Every part of him seems comprised of sharp angles; he’s sort of cute, in a mousy, scrawny sort of way. I like his eyes: silvery blue and so large on his narrow face that he looks like a character from an anime cartoon. He looks like a man who’s been stranded in adolescence, held hostage by his small frame and boyish face.

I don’t want to argue about money. I want to keep enjoying the day and not have him worry about how he’s going to afford it. I want to be invited to more days like this, and if I have to buy that privilege, so be it.

“You watched?”

“Of course. I tried to pay attention to the game, and not only you, but I had no clue what was happening half of the time. No offense to hockey or anything, but my interest in the sport starts and ends with you.”

“Want me to read some to you?”

“What, right now?” I ask, lifting my head and propping myself up on an elbow to look at him better. “Are you serious?”

“Sure.” He holds out a hand and waits for me to put the book into his palm. Sliding back until his back is more comfortable against the wall, he crosses his legs and flips to the first pag...

Closing my eyes, I listen hard to the words and try not to think about the way his slight weight is compressing my mattress. Soon enough, the irritation melts away and I find myself almost enjoying the experience. Zeke’s voice is musical; he reads each sentence with a smooth confidence that I envy.

“I don’t know, I just…he felt right, is all.” I blush as I say this, the tips of my ears burning. There’s no better way to explain it, though. Carter was inevitable.

Yes, Vas, I have developed a crush on a skinny little nerd and it is making me physically ill. Thank you for noticing. “Uhm, no, I’m fine. Just distracted.”

He loosens his grip on my hands, like he’s going to reach for the wall instead; I don’t let him go. The whole point of doing this was because I knew we’d be touching the entire time. He lets out a long sigh and smiles up at me. Those eyes are going to be the death of me.

“Okay, well, regardless,” I shift, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation has taken, “I don’t want to date anyone else, but you. Just to make that clear.”

“No, me either,” Zeke says, and I glance over at him. “You and me, huh?”

“Yeah,” I agree, “you and me.”

“Jesus, no, I mean yes, of course I’ve liked you. What I meant is that I just realized that I like you. Like, I want to kiss you. And we should have sex, sometime.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were bad at kissing,” he muses, not letting go of my hand. “That just means we get to practice more.”

You have to breathe to talk, and it takes a moment to remind myself how that’s done. Zeke’s no longer watching his hands, but looking at my face. It’s very hard to concentrate with his fingers moving like that.

I catch his face in my hands and lean down. Remember to breathe, I remind myself, and then I kiss him. All jokes about ravishing aside, that is not my goal here. I want to go slowly—not ask for or take too much too fast. But if he keeps making noises like that, my control isn’t going to last long. Zeke moans, low in the back of his throat, and slides his hands up my sides until every inch of his hands are touching me. My skin zings at the contact, and if I wasn’t enjoying the way holding his face feels, I might do a little exploring of my own.

“I really like you, Carter Morgan. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anybody before.”

“Max, this is Zeke. He is the best thing that has ever happened to Carter.”

“That’s dumb as shit,” he says, and I laugh. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me to him. “I like you. Everything about you. I’m not sure when I gave you the impression that I didn’t like the way you look, but I’m sorry if I did. I like your body.”

“Hey, Carter?”

“I really like you. And I’m really glad that you’re the first person I’ve done that with.” He turns his face further into my neck, muffling his voice. “And it probably would have made more sense for us to shower after we did this.”

“Yes, you are! You’re not going to break up with me, are you? If you get signed by…I don’t know, Colorado or something, and have to leave?”

“No,” I say, vehemently, “of course not.”

“Well! Then everything will be fine. You’ll have your hockey, I’ll have my math, and we’l...

“I want you to know that this has been the best year of my life, and most of that is because of you. You remind me that life doesn’t have to be so serious all the time; you are always teaching me new things, and you make me laugh more than I’ve ever laughed before. I wish I’d posted an ad for a roommate years ago, because we might have met sooner.” Stopping, I clear my throat. I can’t look up at him, though, so I keep my eyes firmly on the paper. “Whenever I used to picture my future, it never included anybody else with me. Now, you’re the only part of my future that I’m certain of. I…”

I just wanted to say that I don’t care about anything else that happens in the future, as long as you’re in it. Hockey, no hockey, I don’t care. I just want you.” I suck in a deep breath. This part I can read just fine. “And, I love you.”

As we go through the motions of cleaning up and getting ready for bed, I have a sudden clarity of how my future will look. I’ll finish school while Carter makes a name for himself on the ice. I’ll graduate and find a job nearest wherever Carter is playing.

I’ll ask him to marry me one day, to save him the anxiety of doing it himself.

“Love you,” I tell him as we crawl into bed and settle on our sides, facing each other. He looks pleased. He always looks pleased, n...

“Love you more,” he returns. Impossible, I think. He loosely links the fingers on his left hand with mine in the space between us on the bed. Closing my eyes, I fiddle with his ring...