One-Touch Pass (SCU Hockey #4)

by J.J. Mulder

So, I met this guy at a party last year and I was feeling him. Like…I looked across the room, and there he was, and I just…” I trail off, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Anyway, so I sucked his dick and now I’m obsessed with him.”

But…like, how the fuck does this happen? Take right now, for example. I’m looking at you and I’m thinking wow, look how cute Micky is with all those freckles.” “Oh my god,” he mumbles, cheeks crimson.

“Thank you for telling me.” “Well, I can’t very well keep a secret from my number one, can I?”

“I like men, too.”

“I think I’d like to actually go out with him. Grab dinner, or something. We get along great—dating would be like getting to spend time with one of my buddies while also getting to kiss them. Best of both worlds.”

“I don’t think manscaping matters, one way or the other,” he says suddenly, voice stronger. “It wouldn’t to me, anyway. I’d just be happy that someone, well, liked me.”

“Micky,” I prompt. “Well, I might have had a small thing for you when we first met,” he admits. “You mean when I was following you around, and practically begging you to be my friend? You were ignoring me because you liked me?” I can’t help but laugh.

It doesn’t matter to me. I can do the no-strings-attached, friends-who-hook-up thing, but I can also be the guy who commits. And right now? I’m committed. If Marcos needs me to wait, I can wait.

I’ve never been so affectionate in my life, but the past couple months I’ve done my best to touch Max and Luke as often as possible, even if it was just a quick press of my fingers to an arm.

“I don’t know. Not really sure why he’s trying so hard to go out with me anyway.” Max scrunches up his nose like he smells something rotten. “Uhm, because you’re fucking great? Why wouldn’t he try hard—you’re a catch.”

“Finally,” he repeats. “You’re a hard man to nail down. I started to think I might have imagined you.”

It doesn’t even qualify as touching. He’s carefully not touching me, in fact—his fingertips brushing lightly through my hair without even reaching my scalp. Reaching up, I wrap my own fingers around his wrist and meet his gaze. His eyes light up at the contact, so I tug him forward and tip my chin up. I’m done overthinking this. I want to kiss him.

He walks sideways down the stairs, glancing down at his feet before looking back up as though he doesn’t want to take his eyes off me.

And then, because I’m proud of my best friend, I add, “Max speaks Spanish fluently, did you know that?” “Holy shit, no,” Nate replies, sounding suitably impressed.

He gentles his grip on my face, and uses it to tip my head downward so he can press his lips to my forehead as well.

I am feral for Marcos.

The Marcos from last semester certainly wouldn’t have. Nor would he have gone on a date with me, I realize. Maybe I need to capitalize on his good mood, and ask him to move in with me.

How could anyone care about catching fish when Marcos has a happy trail and it’s staring them right in the face?

“Want to split that?” he asks, but I shake my head. “Nope. I’m wooing you, which means I’m paying.”

Max likes to say that they serve you what you need, not what you want, here.”

“He must be out with Luke.” “Baseball Luke,” I fill in. “Yeah. They’re obsessed with each other. Throw a rock at one of them, you’ll hit them both.”

Nate reaches out, and I yank my arm away before he can make contact. Long sleeves or no, I can’t today. The hurt that flashes across his face before he’s able to disguise it makes my chest burn with shame. I don’t want to be like this anymore.

“You’ll answer when I call, right?” he presses, smiling like it’s a joke but unable to make it wholly convincing. “I’ll answer,” I promise.

“Maxy said you’ve got designs on a hockey player.”

Luke spends the entire afternoon finding excuses to talk to me—shouting and winking at me from across the field, and generally giving me a lot of reasons to scowl at him. He’s being supportive in the best way he knows how, and I’m appreciative of it even though I could do without the flirting.

“Me and Max are still going to be together,” he tells me, voice firm. I nod, because that much had been obvious to me. “And I want to go with him to Detroit.” “You should,” I agree.

When I glance over at Max, he’s looking distinctly smug. Luke, with an arm thrown over his shoulders, is grinning widely. I scowl at the pair of them.

“Really, though? Like…you want to date a guy?” Marcos takes a hand off the wheel to wave it around, a frown tugging the side of his mouth I can see downward. “In public?” “Why does everyone assume I’m going to be pissed off about people thinking I’m gay?” I ask, annoyed. “Micky, too. Of course I want to date you in public, Jesus.” “I wasn’t…” A pause. “Sorry. You’re right.”

I don’t understand it at all. I’m a tactile guy—I touch, hug, and generally just run my hands all over my friends. Hell, I’ve been known to kiss them on the cheek.

“Touching people is something I do without thinking, which means I’m going to mess up. I’m probably going to make you uncomfortable sometimes, which is the last thing I want to do. But I’m going to do my best to follow your lead, and only touch you when you ask for it, okay?”

“Good, because I was starting to feel like a stalker. This is my first experience with fixation, and I wasn’t expecting it to feel quite so creepy.”

I’d feel like absolute shit if I found out he was lonely or unhappy, and I could have done something about it.

“Want to take this off?” he asks, giving another tug on the hem of my shirt. As if he even has to ask. Cupping his face, I kiss him again. Hard. Hard enough to give him some idea of how much I like him, and how into this I am despite his worries when we were chatting in the car.

Marcos doesn’t really smile the same way other people do, with their full mouth and teeth participating. He smiles like he’s not really sure he wants to commit. Like smiles are precious and he can’t give them away to just anyone.

I care that you feel safe, and aren’t just doing something because you feel like you have to.”

Sometimes, with the way Marcos talks, I worry about him. There’s a gravitas to his words and bearing that speak of someone a lot older than he is. It scares me a little bit, this nagging feeling that something happened to him but I don’t know what it was.

“It’s just really important to me that you have all the information before we do something new, that’s all. I need you to feel protected.”

“No need to hide from Max.” He chuckles a little bit. “He’ll be thrilled when I tell him we’re together.” “Yeah? I’m good enough for his best friend?” Marcos’ eyes noticeably warm and this time it’s him who reaches out to press gentle fingertips to my face. “Yeah. You’re good enough.”

“No, just…no. You weren’t⁠—” “Yes,” he cuts me off firmly. “I was. All I did was shut you out when you tried to help. I was selfish and I’m sorry for that, because I think you needed help too and I blew it.”

I hate it when I’m the reason he’s unhappy. I love him so fucking much; I’d do anything in this world to take away his pain.

“I know. I’m still sorry, though. I felt like I was…wandering around lost in a fog, but I never meant to leave you behind.” “I’m still here.”

Poor Vas. He looked devastated.”

“My therapist gives me easier homework. All I have to do is imagine myself naked and touching someone else who’s naked.” A startled laugh bubbles up Max’s throat and I smile. Bingo. “If only imagining Luke naked would cure me.”

Max reaches a hand out to cup the back of my head. Pulling me down, he leans over and kisses my temple so quickly I barely feel the contact. “Te amo, Marcos,” he says, as he rises to standing.

“Don’t mind him. We picked him up off the side of the road and are just waiting for the Humane Society to come put him down.”

“Yeah, I can’t be on a team with Marcos,” Luke puts in. “He’ll lose on purpose just to spite me.”

“If they become best friends, we can have epic double dates for the rest of our lives,” he tells me.

He touches me again, fingers sliding between my shoulder blades and down to the small of my back. I never had to ask him to do that—touch me above my clothes unless I say otherwise—he just does it. It makes me feel equal parts sad and grateful.

Lawson hands the little red bundle off to Coach Mackenzie, grinning as he does. He reaches over the wall to put a hand on the back of Max’s neck and give him a little shake. Max grins at him, muttering something I’m too far away to hear.

I really, really want to hold him. Max, perhaps seeing the naked desire on my face, chuckles and moves closer. “Your turn,” he says, before placing the warm little body in my arms.