Shots on Net (SCU Hockey, #1)

by J.J. Mulder

Yes, Vas, I have developed a crush on a skinny little nerd and it is making me physically ill. Thank you for noticing.

“Are things well with your roommate? Zeke?” he asks. “Things are well,” I confirm. Vas waits, and I sigh, looking around the parking lot in agitation. He’s a patient bastard, which means that if I don’t come out with it, he’ll only keep pestering me until I do. “If you must know, I’ve got a bit of a thing for him and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“There is no timeframe for emotional attachment, yes? You are assuming it must take a long time, but this is not true. It is different, I think, for all.”

Vas sighs expansively. “You prefer picking people up on dating apps because then you do not have to worry about being rejected,” he tells me, and then shrugs when I raise my eyebrows at him.

I’m going to do it. I’m going to go home and ask Zeke out on a date.

“So, hey, I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything Friday night, would you want to go to dinner? With me. Dinner, with me?” I stare at him, quizzically. What a completely normal but oddly peculiar request.

“Oh, well great. Dinner it is then.” I smile at him and watch as he physically deflates. He lets out a whoosh of air and his shoulders relax. There is even something of a smile playing around his mouth. “Great,” he echoes. “It’s a date, then.”

I try not to stare at his naked torso, but it’s not easy. The play of muscle beneath skin is fascinating; I want to walk over and press my hand to him to see how it feels.

Carter is standing at the kitchen island, waiting for me. I stop dead in the doorway and stare at him. Unlike me, he’s obviously gone to some lengths with his appearance tonight: fitted dark wash jeans and a long-sleeve Henley in a dark olive-green color. His hair looks freshly cut and is shining gold in the kitchen light. Even from across the room I can smell something masculine and earthy, like he put on cologne or aftershave. Probably feeling the weight of my eyes on him, he looks over and smiles. It’s the same smile I saw in the picture he showed me with Anthony Lawson, but the first time I’ve seen it in real life. It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze.

He looks away from me and glances down at something he’s got pulled up on his phone. I can’t place his tone, but it sounds too close to hurt for comfort. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and my scalp itches uncomfortably.

I am desperately trying to figure out where I went wrong here. Carter’s smile is gone, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it back.

I’m unsure exactly what went wrong, but sometime between my arrival home and now, I’ve clearly fucked up. But his back is rigid and I’m not brave enough to touch him without permission.

He holds the door open for me—gently, which sends another bout of nerves scurrying down my spine—and then steps around me to open the car door for me as well.

“You do look nice,” I tell him. The V at the neck of the shirt keeps drawing my eyes. I can see part of his collarbone.

I can’t get over the feeling that I’ve done something wrong.

“You had reservations somewhere? For tonight?” “Yeah. It’s not a big deal.” “Oh, Carter. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” No wonder he looked put out, earlier, he might have had to pay to reserve a table. “We should have just gone, instead of doing this stupid party. I’m really sorry.” “It’s fine, Zeke, seriously. I just want to do whatever you want to do tonight, okay? You tell me.”

“Is something wrong?” I cannot take it any longer. Guessing what is happening inside his head is getting me nowhere, and obviously I can’t do anything right tonight. “No.” He holds open the car door for me again, waiting until I’m seated before closing it gently.

I want them all to understand how hard he works, and what an accomplishment it is to play as well as he is.

“I didn’t realize that you were seeing one of the hockey players, Zeke. You’ve never struck me as a sports fan.” “Oh, we’re just roommates,” I correct. “And I wouldn’t say I’m much of a sports fan, per se. More of a Carter fan. But I’m getting there.”

Jefferson makes a choked noise, drawing my attention to his face. He’s not looking at me, however, but over my shoulder to where Carter is looming above me.

“What is going on with you and Carter?” “Nothing is going on. Well,” I reach up to push my hair out of my eyes, “actually, something has been off all night. All week, kind of. I think something is bothering him, but he won’t tell me what it is. Also, I messed up his plan for the night by asking him to come here. He apparently had dinner reservations, so I feel kind of awful about that.”

Jefferson’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself. “Okay, hold on. Were you going on a date, tonight?” “No, we went out to dinner.” “How did he ask you if you wanted to grab dinner? The exact words.” “He just said that, do you want to have dinner with me or something like that.

and he said it’s a date.” “You’re on a date...

“Zeke!” Jefferson holds his hands out to the side in exasperation. “He used the word date, for fuck’s sake. The man made a reservation! You cannot tell me that he usually dresses like that.”

“He asked you out to dinner and made sure to use the word date so that you would know it was meant to be different than usual. He dressed nicely. He made a reservation. And, last but not least, he looked like you punched him just now when you said he’s just my roommate. You are on a fucking date.”

My heart is beating rather painfully. “Do you want it to be a date?” He drops his voice and loses the exasperated tone. “With Carter? Are you interested in him, like that?” “Jesus, I don’t know! He’s not…have you seen him? He shouldn’t want to date someone like me, it makes no sense.”

When we’d first arrived, he’d been standing so close to me that I could feel the warmth of him through my clothing. Now, the cold absence is an unwelcome shock to my system. How could I have misunderstood so catastrophically?

I find him on the porch. I hadn’t quite been expecting him to be there, and the sight of him hits my system like a burst of cold water.

A sharp prickle forms behind my eyes, and I swallow past a lump in my throat. “I’m ready. I’m ready to go.”

I look out the window and will myself not to cry. I think I’ve probably fucked this up, and that feels terrible. But what feels worse is the knowledge that I’ve obviously hurt Carter’s feelings.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask quietly, and watch as his eyes pop wide in surprise. He’s forgotten to maintain the frown. “No, of course not. Why the hell would I be mad at you?” He sounds incredulous, like he can’t think of anything more ridiculous than him being upset with me. “Because I ruined our date.” I’m watching carefully when I say this, so even in the dark car I’m able to see the way his shoulders sag.

need to think of what to say to him tomorrow to help him understand that I made a mistake. I need him to know that had I known we were going on a date, I never would have agreed to meet Jefferson at the party. But I also need to make sure he understands what dating me might look like. I’m not the kind of person who will just jump into bed with someone, and I’m unsure whether that will be okay with Carter.

This, I think, is why I don’t do dating. I’d gotten excited—far more excited than the situation warranted—when Zeke agreed to dinner.

have a feeling he’s going to want to talk and I’m not sure I have it in me today. I’m just so fucking disappointed. I should have been happy with what I had—a roommate and a friend—instead of looking for more. It’s my own damn fault if I’ve ruined everything.

When I caught his shoulders just now, I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin shirt; my hands are still tingling with the contact. I am so utterly and completely fucked.

His voice cracks like he’s close to tears, and my heart clenches like someone reached into my chest and squeezed.

He can’t touch me if I’m going to have any hope of getting rid of these goddamn feelings.

“Can we talk?” “Do we have to?” I turn around and try to keep my tone friendly. “I don’t…I’m pretty fucking embarrassed and I’d rather just forget about it and try to go back to the way things were.” “Can I just…I really think I need to explain,” he says, hands flat on the island in front of him and tone placating. “You’ll understand if I can just explain. And then…if you want to go back to the way things were before, we can do that. But please, just hear me out for a minute.”

“I know, Carter. You said it was a date,” he says wearily. “I don’t have a lot of experience though, and when you said that it never crossed my mind that you would mean it the way you did. Guys like you don’t ask guys like me out on dates. My grandma says ‘it’s a date!’ when we make Sunday dinner plans; I genuinely thought you meant it that way.”

As though he knows I’m going to push back from the counter and stand, he reaches across the island and grabs my hand. I saw him coming, this time, so I don’t flinch.

“No, it’s not fine,” he says earnestly. “I wouldn’t have suggested we cancel your reservation and meet up with Jefferson, if I’d known. And if I’d been paying a little more attention, I might have figured it out. So, I’m sorry. I feel terrible that I…hurt your feelings, and that you feel embarrassed.” Jesus, and now I’m more fucking embarrassed. “It’s fine. You just said you didn’t do it on purpose.” “Yes, well, unintentionally hurting someone is still hurting them,” he says, huffing an exasperated breath.

Zeke’s ears turn red when he says this, and his fingers tighten incrementally on my hand. The words make me want to yank him across the island and hug him.

“Dude, chill. There isn’t exactly a line of people desperate to go out with me. I’m not going to be waiting around for you to suck my dick.”

“Oh, thank god. I was up all night, nervous about talking to you about this. Obviously, I like you, but it seems so preposterous that you’d be interested in me. And then I was convincing myself that you’d lose interest if I didn’t want to have sex right away. Seriously, I was up all night. Massive doom spiral.” My mind snags on ‘obviously, I like you’ and stays there. I feel ridiculously pleased with myself. “You’ve got to quit with that shit. Guys like me are lucky to be with guys like you.”

These words—though true—have me feeling distinctly hot. I never talk like that. I’m rarely this interested in dating as a whole, either. Probably, I shouldn’t be embarrassed to say shit like that, but it’s going to have to be something to work up to. Especially if it has Zeke looking at me like that: eyes soft and mouth pinched in one corner like he’s holding back a smile. It’s another expression to add to my Adorable Zeke Faces collection.

“It’s a date,” I tell him. My heart soars when he nods and repeats it back.

I feel like I’m glowing. Coach Mackenzie’s approval ranks higher than anyone else’s.

I remind myself that this is Carter I’m going out with, and he’s the least materialistic person I’ve ever met.

I’m always wondering if I’m acting weird, talking too much or too little, or if there is food stuck in my teeth. Almost every single date I’ve been on has ended with me wondering why I even bother.

I move back a step so I can take him in. He’s wearing another green shirt, but this one is plain and short-sleeved, ink trailing down his arms. Dark jeans once more, fitted well enough to have been made for him. He smells good again, although it’s a scent I can’t identify. Looking at him and knowing that we’re about to go on a date makes me feel strange; it feels like my insides are reaching for him.