Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

I am ten feet from my door, keys in hand, when I realize someone is standing stock still beside it. That alone is enough to startle me. And then I realize who it is. “Jesus Christ!” “I still go by Wes,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Or Ryan. Or jackass.”

Maybe he’s not as carefree as he looks, my conscience suggests. Fuck off, conscience! I’m busy being mad here.

“Pat,” I beg. “Please tell me I wasn’t like this.” “You weren’t,” he says with a shake of his head. “You were three times worse.”

Shen smirks. “Sorry.” “Fucking chink,” Killfeather swears. “Faggot,” Shen returns. My whistle is so loud that Canning claps his hands over his ears. “Two minute penalties!” I roar. “Both of you.” “What?” Killfeather yelps. “I didn’t touch his ass.” “For your mouth,” I snarl. “On my ice you don’t use a slur of any kind.” I point toward the sin bin. “Get.”

“You don’t get to make new rules.” His sneer is as big as the banner advertisements lining the boards. All the players are listening, so I can’t do this wrong. “Ladies, it is a rule. Two minute bench minor for unsportsmanlike conduct. If you’d kept your trap shut after he hit you, your team would have a power play right now. I’m doing this for your own good.” “Sure you are.” In spite of that parting shot, both my troublemakers finally aim their bodies toward the penalty boxes.

“By the way—science has proven the correlation between calling someone a faggot and having a really small penis. You do not want to advertise that. Think about it.” Canning doesn’t say anything. But he skates off, too. I see him take a seat off to the side and then bend over as if he’s retying his skates. W...

“Science has proven?” He chuckles. “I do science on the side.” “Uh-huh.

“Did we wander onto the set of Sex and the City? If so, I’m Samantha. Called it.” The tension diffuses instantly, as Canning’s lips twitch uncontrollably. “You know actual character names from Sex and the City? Shit, if you hadn’t told me you were gay, I would’ve figured it out just now.” “That was an extremely insensitive case of stereotyping, Jamie,” I say primly. “Just for that? You’re springing for lunch. Asshole.” But I’m grinning to myself as I flip him the bird and stride into the bar.

What does a guy who’s not as straight as he thought look like, anyway? “Like you, apparently.” My lips move with these words, and I’m no closer to understanding what happened. But now I’m talking to myself. Awesome.

My dick hardens against the mattress. I’m actually hard, and all he’s done is walk in and undress. Interesting.

I’ve always wanted another chance to see his lust-filled face. Now his lips part on the upstroke, and it’s almost enough to get me across the room. But still I hesitate, and not because I’m afraid he’ll regret this tomorrow. Because I know I will.

I glance at the door for the hundredth time in ten minutes. Just, you know, to make sure little gremlins didn’t crawl out of some air vent and unlock it. But nope, still locked.

I’m attracted to women, no doubt about it. I’m also attracted to men, apparently. Wonderful. Complicated fellow, my dick.

“I asked if you wanted to swim. It’s still hot.” “Uh.” I really just want to go home and get very, very naked. “I’m not wearing a suit.” His eyes narrow. “Who are you?” Right. When you spend your life giving zero fucks about appropriate attire, people notice. “Okay,” I concede. “Let’s swim.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “You’ve kinda been running hot and cold on me all day.” He nods. “Needed to get some things straight in my head.” I snort at his choice of words. “Straight, huh?” I offer a pointed look at his very noticeable hard-on. His mouth twitches. “My dick and I reached an understanding.” “Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask curiously. He shrugs. “We both like you.” Fuck yeah.

“No.” He’s quick to reassure me, his gaze softening when he sees my face. “Not unless you want me to.” “I…” I bite my lip. “I…don’t know. Maybe another time.” Maybe another time? God, when I go gay, I really go gay. Wes’s lips quiver. “We’ll put a pin in that.” I shudder out a laugh.

“Ready to come harder than you’ve ever come in your life?” I ask solemnly, lifting one of his knees up. He smiles. “You sure you want to put that much pressure on yourself, dude?” “No pressure. Just fact. Science has proven it.” Now he snickers,

The idea pops out of my mouth before I can think better of it. “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.” I leave his office feeling lighter, even though nothing has really changed, except there’s a new idea in my head. But it’s a hell of an idea.

“I don’t give a shit whether we set that guy’s gaydar off or not.” Wes actually winces. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. Look, that dude is only jealous. But some people are assholes about it. I mean, the things you and I do every night are illegal in some places.” “You’re really selling it to me then.”

“There are benefits.” “Yeah? Hit me. What’s good about going gay?” I nudge him back under the table. “Well, dicks,” he says. “Obvs.” “Obvs.”

Maybe it makes me a pussy, but I take Pat up on his offer to sit this scrimmage out. I’m not afraid of Killfeather’s dad. And I’m not afraid to have people whisper about me. But what I am is sad. And I don’t want it to show. Before today I didn’t really understand what Wes was up against. I’d never heard anyone give a homophobic rant except in movies.

“Coach Canning and Coach Wesley are having a shootout!” Well, then. I guess it’s time for a shootout. Wes winks at me and says, “Same stakes?” “Damn straight.” We both grin at my choice of words.

Wes grins at me as he lines up the next puck. “Ready for this?” The asshole has just repeated the same words he’d said to me last night right before he’d shoved his cock in my ass. All about the mind games, my boyfriend. Wait, what? The puck flies past me and I don’t even stand a chance, because my brain is still tripping over that last thought. My boyfriend? I thought I’d resigned myself to the fact that we weren’t going to be together. And now I’m thinking of him as my boyfriend?

Hey, now I can stop trying to figure out what sort of girl you’d fallen for. Wondering what she had that I don’t was really taking up a lot of my free time. Now at least I know the answer—a dick.” I burst out laughing. “Damn, Holly. It’s good to talk to you.” “Likewise.”

“We’re going to have to work something out. I love you, goddamn it.” His breath hitches. “Yeah?” “Fuck yeah. And I’m not letting you walk out of here.” “Ever?” he teases, squeezing my hand. “That’s one way to prevent gossip.”

He actually laughs. “Gotta tell you, lots of conversations start this way. By now, I’m unshockable, Ryan. Just hit me.” I clasp my hands in my lap to stop from fidgeting. “Frank…the roommate I listed as my emergency contact on my health forms? He’s actually my boyfriend. But, uh, nobody else knows.” He doesn’t even blink. “Right.” Right? Confusion fills my gut as I attempt to make sense of his response. It hadn’t sounded sarcastic, like riiiiiight, sure he is. It hadn’t sounded hostile. It hadn’t sounded like anything.

“I mean, I’m living with someone. It’s serious. The only, um, scandal is that he’s a he.” His lips twitch. Fucking hell. Is he laughing at me? I clench my teeth and force myself to continue. “We’re willing to be as discreet as the team needs us to be, but we can’t hide our relationship forever. We shouldn’t have to.” My breath comes out in a rush. “So I figured I’d disclose this information and let you and the team decide what happens next.” Frank leans forward, resting his arms on the desktop. “Ryan.” He chuckles. “I appreciate you coming forward, but…we already knew about your sexual orientation.” I cough in surprise. “You did?” “Son, we have a thorough vetting process for all our draft prospects. The last thing a club needs is to draft a kid in the first round, only to find out later that he’s got a criminal record a mile-long or he’s addicted to pills or has some other skeleton in his closet that might negatively impact the league.” Jesus. So they knew I was gay before they drafted me?

“How did you know?” He chuckles again. “Were you trying to keep it a secret? Because from what we gleaned, your college teammates—and coaches—were well aware of it.” I’m…dumbfounded. “My coach told you?” He shrugs like this is nothing surprising. “The coach didn’t want you to hitch your wagon to a team that wouldn’t treat you right. He did you a favor. And like I said, Hal was impressed with you, and not just with the level of talent you bring to the team. You’re smart, discreet, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. That’s all that matters to him. To us.” “So…” I try to find my voice. “You guys don’t care that I’m involved with another man?” “Not at all.”

“In a little while I have to check my Facebook page.” “Why?” My stomach tightens just thinking about it. “Tomorrow is Sunday dinner, right? So I outed myself to them today.” “On Facebook?” he yelps. I reach back and give his ass a pinch. “Give me a little credit? My family has a private group. It’s just the kids, their spouses and my parents. I didn’t even tell them your last name.”

He shrugs. “I spent my whole life trying to stand out from the crowd. I swear to God, I could announce I wanted to live my life as a reclusive vampire yeti, and they’d still say ‘Oh, Jamie. You’re so cute.’”

“Well, that’s kind of a trick question. Nobody taught me, per se. My parents have a cook that comes in four times a week to prepare meals and—wait, I’m sorry, did you call me Ryan Theodore?” She waves her hand as if the question is inconsequential. “I don’t know your middle name so I had to make one up. Because, sweetie, you really needed to be middle-named for mangling those poor onions.”