Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

Northern Mass campus.

Wes

I guess you could call Cassel my best friend.

Wes

“Meaning I saw you disappear with that meathead. You guys were still AWOL when Em finally dragged me home at two.”

Wes

“I want you to watch this goalie. The kid’s sharp as a hawk. We need to find his weakness and exploit it.”

Jamie- Rainier goalie

It’s been nearly four years since I’ve seen or spoken to the guy. What the hell will I even say to him? How do you apologize to someone for cutting them out of your life without so much as an explanation?

Want to race to the top of the climbing wall? Ask Wes. Need a partner in crime to help you break into the camp freezer after hours? Wes is your man.

I’m from Boston, so playing in the Bruins’ arena is my childhood fantasy come to life.

Wes

Although the hotel, whatever it is, won’t be nearly as grand as my family’s Beacon Hill mansion a few miles away. I’d never say that, though. I’m not a snob, because I know opulence doesn’t stamp out ignorance and unhappiness. Just ask my family.

Wes

I hadn’t realized just how much I’ve missed him until this very moment. Go talk to him. The voice in my head is persistent, but I silence it by wrenching my gaze off Canning. With the colossal amount of guilt lodged in my chest, it’s now become even more evident that I need to apologize to my old friend.

“This guy—Canning, their goalie—we used to be tight.” I reluctantly add, “Until I wrecked it by being an ass.”

“Kittens?” Cassel chokes back a laugh. “What the hell for?” “His team is the tigers.” Duh.

Jamie’s team is the Rainier tigers

“I broke the chain a few years ago. So this’ll have to do.”

Wes

The box. Wes has resurrected our old joke box. Except for the life of me, I have no idea why. I had been the last one to send it.

Wes hadn’t sent anything back. He also hadn’t called, texted, snail mailed, or courier pigeoned. Not a single word from him for three and a half years.

Shootouts are never easy. But when you’re defending the net against Ryan Wesley, the fastest skater I’ve ever played with? It’s intense. Still, we’d done this often enough for me to be able to anticipate his flashy moves. I remember cackling after I stopped the first three shots. But then he got lucky, deking me once and then winning one on an unlikely bounce off the pipe.

I’d won, fair and square. The third shot went past his elbow and landed with a swish in the back of the net.

Jamie

I don’t get nervous often. I’m probably the most chill person you’ll ever meet, which I’m sure has to do with the fact that my family is the walking definition of laidback Californians.

Jamie

He’s still got the messy dark hair and scruffy beard growth, but he’s bigger now. Solid muscle and broad shoulders, more lean than bulky, but definitely bulkier than his eighteen-year-old self. Still has the tribal tattoo on his right biceps, but now there’s a lot more ink on his golden-toned skin. Another piece on his left arm. Something black and Celtic-looking peeking from the collar of his T-shirt.

Wes

Aw hell. It’s like every bottle in this fucking bar is full of memories.

“Be my goldfish, Killfeather.” I give him a little punch on the chest pads. “Forget every stupid thing that guy says to you. Because the world is filled with dicks who will rile you up for fun. You’ve got the moves. You can do the job. But only if you don’t let him wreck it for you.”

Here goes nothing. It all comes out in a rush. “Canning, I’m gay. And yeah—maybe that’s not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Except that the last time we were here I kind of…pushed you into fooling around with me. It wasn’t cool, and I’ve spent the last four years feeling shitty about it.” For a long moment he just gapes at me. And when he finally speaks, it isn’t what I expect him to say. “And?” And? “And…I’m sorry.”

Jamie’s mouth opens and then closes. And opens again. “This is why you didn’t call me for four years? Why you ignored my texts?” “Well…yes.” I’m so confused now. I just pled guilty to assholery in the first degree and practically molestation. And he’s worried about a few texts.

He’s running faster now. He lengthens his long strides and moves his arms with power. The athletic shirt he’s wearing hugs each muscle as he moves, and I am jealous of that piece of polyester fabric.

“It was just a little sex, for God’s sake. Nobody died.” And I’m probably going to swallow my tongue now. “I… It was dishonest.” “Ah. Thanks for punishing me for your dishonesty. A four-year sentence. I went off to a strange college where I knew nobody, wondering how I’d been such a shitty friend.”

Jamie catches up to me on the way to the locker rooms. “Science has proven?” He chuckles. “I do science on the side.”

I’m yet again jealous of his shirt. I want to be the one plastered to his chest,

“Jamie.” A note of warning this time. I suck a gulpful of oxygen into my lungs. Then I ignore the warning. His eyes widen as I shove my fingers through his hair and tug his head closer. “What—” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because I’m smashing my mouth against his.

What does a guy who’s not as straight as he thought look like, anyway?

It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve always felt a little more alive when he’s around. Life is just a little brighter, a little louder wherever Wes is.

all chemistry is just electricity. We’re all just bags of charged atoms walking around bumping into each other.

The night now feels endless. And tomorrow will be an awkward eternity.

Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.

I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead.

Times they are a changin’.

“Want you,” I whisper. Lately, those two words define me. “Have me,” he says.

“He needs to chill out.” “But some never do,” I tell him. The truth hurts, but he should understand this as soon as he can. “And you still have to live your life. If you don’t, then he wins. What a waste, right?”

that’s like passing the puck to Gretzky and asking him not to take a shot.

there aren’t many moments like this. I want to bottle it and carry it everywhere I go.

Wes

Even if my entire life goes to shit before breakfast tomorrow, I’ll always have this night.

Wes

We both chuckle even as our lips meet again. And again. Finally I’m able to relax. His arms close around me and it feels like coming home.

“Do you think someone in Toronto might need a defensive coach?” Pat’s bushy eyebrows lift, but only for a split second. “Dunno, Canning. They don’t play a lot of hockey in Canada.” Then he bursts out laughing. “Lemme see what I can learn.”

“At least go to training camp, Canning. What if you’re there and suddenly they’re like, ‘We’re giving you the starting job, kid.’” Right, and then I’ll fly to work on a Pegasus, befriend a genie, and get paid in leprechaun gold.

science has proven that slushies are conducive to the making of important life decisions.” “Dude, you really need to quit quoting ‘science’ all the time.”

I came to Lake Placid hoping we could still be friends. I got much more than that. And I’m so grateful.

The odds of me ever loving anyone else like I love him are about as good as being attacked by a shark.

I can’t escape Jamie Canning, no matter how hard I try.

My heart is back in Lake Placid. Or maybe it’s in California. It goes wherever Jamie Canning goes.

“I hate the summer.” I can’t help but grin. You’d think someone who deals with the frigid Canadian winter for half the year would welcome the hot weather. “Why’s that?” “Because it always ends.” He lets out a glum sigh. “We get, what, two, three months? And then it’s gone and we’re back to shivering in our long johns. Summer’s a total cocktease.” He shrugs, repeating himself. “It always ends.” He’s right about that. Summer always ends.

“Sure. When you have six kids, you’re always losing one. And when you’re the youngest, it’s usually you.

He’s right there. The clean scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his elbow against mine are overwhelming. I’ve missed him. So fucking much I’ve been walking around with a hollow chasm in my chest where my heart used to be. But that gaping hole is full again. My heart is back, because Jamie is here. And he fucking loves me.