Save the Game (SCU Hockey #2)

by J.J. Mulder

Luke is beautiful. Of course, Luke is beautiful.

My fingers itch to touch him and when I do, he makes a pleased noise that sends my heart rate galloping. I haven’t wanted anyone in so long, I’ve forgotten how potent it is— the desire to touch and be touched, and be wrapped up in another person.

I bury my face into the crook of his neck and inhale; he still smells of sunshine.

I feel amazing. I feel scared.

Heart pounding, I reach for his face, wanting to bring his mouth back to mine. Kiss me—that’s what I wanted to say. Kiss me so that I can’t think.

I can’t separate the real from the imagined, what he’s actually doing from what I fear he might do.

Luke’s voice, so close to my left ear, feels like a lifeline.

Almost as soon as I hope that he hasn’t noticed the tears, he reaches a thumb up to brush one away. I’m shaking, tremors wracking my body and causing me to tremble uncontrollably. He’s rubbing his hand up and down my arm, as though worried it’s because I’m cold.

“I’ll drive you home when you want to go,” he says. “Or you can stay.” The offer has a sob worming its way through my chest.

It’s all I can think about. I puked on his bed. On his fucking bed. I almost wish it was possible to die of embarrassment.

He smiles, but it’s a dimmer version of the sunshine smile at the beach and I wish I hadn’t seen it.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right? And…and that I don’t blame you for what happened? You know that, right Marcos?” He turns around, slowly, and meets my eyes. “The funny thing is, I do know that. But knowing something and believing it are two different things. There are a lot of things that might have changed what happened that night, Max, and every single one starts with me.”

“Something is bothering you, though, I think,” he adds, carefully going through the motions of putting his gear on. I look at him in surprise and he shrugs. “I am friends with Carter Morgan for a long time. And you are not so good at hiding, as he was.”

Hey, Maxy. I hope you’re feeling okay today. I stopped by your apartment earlier, but I think you guys were already gone. I feel bad about last night, and I’d have preferred to apologize in person but I couldn’t find you. I’m sorry if I scared you.

There is a light on in Coach Mackenzie’s office and the door is standing wide open. I stop, well down the hall and out of view, and stare at that patch of gold light. There he is—right there in front of me this entire time—the person I can talk to.

It feels good, having said it out loud. It also feels like I could go to bed and sleep for a week; maybe I should.

“Max,” Coach Mackenzie says softly, and the use of my given name has me meeting his eyes. He’s leaned forward in his chair, closing the distance between us. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” I nod, tightly. I knew he’d say that, but the sincerity with which the words were spoken make me feel like a child in need of comfort.

I haven’t had fun outside of the hockey rink in months, but Luke is so easy to be with, and he…I don’t know. I feel like I don’t want to be around people. Sometimes I look at other guys on campus and think I wonder if it was you, which I know is wrong.

But it’s different with Luke; he’s just…he’s magic.” I cringe as soon as I say it, self-conscious. What a ridiculous thing to say about someone I’ve only known a fucking week. Coach Mackenzie smiles a small, private and somewhat sad, smile. “Yes,” he says, “I know what you mean.”

“You can have a relationship that isn’t predicated on sex, Max. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” “I know that,” I say, flushing. “But…I wanted to. I just couldn’t. It’s so fucking stupid—god, sorry.” “I’ve heard that word before, Max,” he says wryly, and I smile at him. “And it’s not stupid. I have never heard anything less stupid in my life.”

“Somebody needs you,” I tell Coach. “You need me,” he replies succinctly, and I breathe in so sharply it hurts.

“Max,” he says, exasperated, “you are not inconveniencing me. I am glad you’ve chosen to confide in me, and I hope that in the future you feel like you can come to me if needed. You have my phone number, and if you walk in that direction,” he points out the window, “you’ll eventually find yourself at my house. I cannot possibly stress this enough: I am always available should you need it.”

“And, about your friend, Luke.” I nod. Yes, please help me with my friend, Luke. “You should talk to him, Max. That’s all you need to do—talk to him. You’ve done nothing wrong, and as long as he wasn’t forcing himself on you in any way, he hasn’t either.”

“You don’t have to tell him, not if you don’t want to,” he says, and I sag in relief. “But you should reply to that text. Or go talk to him in person. You’re stressing yourself out over what happened, and he might be as well. Just talk to him.”

Relieved, I step forward into him and wrap my arms around his middle before I can think too hard about the implications of hugging Coach Mackenzie. He rests his arm across my shoulders, not holding me to him but not pushing me away either.

“Whatever, kiddo. This about that boy you get all glassy-eyed about,” he points toward the empty booth where Max sits, “every time he comes in?”

“You look at that kid like you’re starving and he’s your last meal.”

The bell over the front door chimes and I look over. Max—lovely, tousle-haired, sleepy-eyed Max—walks in, and I swear to god I almost cry in relief. I smile at him as I walk around the end of the counter. “Holy shit, thank god,” I say, reaching out and pulling his face to me with my hands on his cheeks. He huffs a startled breath against my lips as I kiss him, and puts a hand on my waist.

The evening is cold and I don’t have a jacket on, but Max is here and I’m just so relieved I can’t bring myself to care about anything else.

“Did you get my text? I texted you. I also went to your apartment this morning, but I don’t know your schedule and nobody answered the door. I’ve sort of been freaking the fuck out all day, because I feel like I might have messed up. Like, what if you were having a heart attack and I just dropped you off at home and left you there?” I run a hand through my hair, still holding onto Max’s hand. He looks alarmed. “And I know you weren’t—having a heart attack, that is—but the fact remains that I was a dick for leaving and I’m sorry about that. And I’m also sorry if I freaked you out, because I’m pretty sure you had a panic attack, and so I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Crying is fine, puking is fine, all of it is fine. I cry all the time— put on a sports movie and I’ll be a mess by the end.” He smiles at me, but it’s weak. “You’re being nice. We were having sex, Luke, not watching a movie. You should have run for the fucking door.” “No,” I reply slowly, frowning. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Stop saying sorry or you’re going to piss me off. You didn’t offend my delicate sensibilities. I’m fine; we’re fine. You didn’t ruin anything. Fuck, Max, have you been worried about this all day? You thought I’d be mad, or something?” “Disgusted, I guess.”

“Absolutely not. But Max…I feel like maybe I did something to freak you out, and I don’t like… Listen, I don’t want to be that guy, that’s all I’m saying. So, if I did something wrong, can you please just tell me? So that next time I won’t make the same mistake?” “Next time,” he repeats under his breath.

I’m more certain than ever that it was something I did to scare him. It feels worse than being punched in the face.

Letting go of his hand, I replace the hand on the back of his neck with my own, pulling him toward me and into a hug. He comes easily, wrapping both arms around my waist and burying his face into my shoulder. I copy the movement, closing my eyes and enjoying his warmth.

“But maybe you need to think about what the best thing for Max is.” “Maybe I’m the best thing for Max.” “Maybe you are,” she agrees, “but can you commit to that? You, who have always run in the opposite direction as soon as someone says the word relationship?”

At least then I could look at him. Look at him and confirm he’s okay. Hug him and inhale his clean, minty smell.

“Sure. What should I talk about?” He slides down so he’s lying the same way I am, curled into the fetal position with his cheek on the pillow. “Just talk about you,” I request, and focus on the movement of his lips as he speaks. It’s nice, spending time together like this—almost as good as having him tucked in beside me, warm and safe.

I can’t imagine the same Luke who stroked his fingers tenderly through my hair, and FaceTimed me to help himself fall asleep would ghost me.

“I like you, and I like being around you, so, yeah, I would be disappointed if all you wanted from me was a fuck.”

“But, it’s not that I don’t want to be, or could be.” “Luke, I don’t know what that means.” “It means… okay, I like you too, and duh I want to have sex with you. I’m not a fucking nun. But I also just like talking to you, and I like it when you visit me at work. You’re already different than the rest of them. Most of the guys I sleep with, we don’t really talk—it’s just banging.”

“Maxy, I’m here, wearing an omelet yellow shirt and an apron, asking you to go steady with me.”

“Yeah, I’ll go steady with you, you fucking weirdo. But no more ghosting me for three days. I’m too needy to handle that.”

“Mm, possessive, are we? I like it. I’m going to change my Instagram bio to read: Property of Max Kuemper,”

My stomach clenches at the sight of him; heat pools low in my pelvis, and I have to remind myself what happened last time.

“Did you just sniff me?” he asks, the left corner of his mouth tipped up in a partial smile. “Sure did,” I admit, and he laughs.

Tightening my arms around his back, I tuck my nose into his neck and breathe. It is, after all, my right to do so now that we are going steady. Luke rubs a hand up and down my spine and kisses my shoulder through my shirt.

There might as well be no fabric between us—I can feel the warmth of that hand so strongly he could be touching my skin. I wish he was. I wish I wasn’t so nervous about the possibility of a repeat performance of the other night to try.

His face is already turned toward mine, as I knew it would be. “Luke’s Safe Sex Questionnaire. Should have done it the other night, but you had me all worked up.”

It’s been so long since I’ve felt this level of attraction to someone: heart pounding, nervous jitters, and that constant, throbbing ache in my pelvis. He’s just so easy to be with—smiling and making me laugh, flirting and calling me Maxy, which nobody in my life has called me.