The high fades away, and I feel fractionally more accomplished this time around. Surely, that was at least double the time.
Oh. The hockey players are still going at it. I check the time on the video with my clean hand and discover it’s only seven minutes in.
Pfft. Who wants to have sex for seven minutes anyway?
Foster, probably. And okay, maybe I’d enjoy it too. Definitely. I’d definitely enjoy it too, and now that I’ve completed that little experiment, I have to face the facts.
I need sex.
And I want it to be with Foster.
With a sigh, I close the porn site, grab a tissue to clean off, and open a web search.
How to have sex.
I realize my mistake a second after I hit search when diagrams and illustrations of vaginas fill the screen.
Oops. Revise.
How to have gay sex.
17
Foster
I’d like to say overhearing Zach is a virgin doesn’t change anything. But … I think it does.
It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Zach. Holy shit, do I ever. I know I could make it good for him. I’d take care of him and be gentle, and I wouldn’t push him into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. But it’s a lot of pressure. Pressure I can’t really afford to add on top of everything else.
Grades.
Hockey.
The NHL.
Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder if I made the right choice not entering the draft last year so I could get my degree first. While I’m great at hockey and I believe it’s my calling, the game is unpredictable. I could injure myself tomorrow, and it would all be over. Even if I managed to get in a few years playing professionally, it could all go away overnight, and I’d have nothing to fall back on.
It’s why my parents and I decided to wait until after I get my degree before I become a free agent and try to get picked up by a team.
And speaking of agents, I don’t even have one yet.
I’ve had a couple approach me, but I’m waiting for the right one.
That’s what I should be focused on right now. Hockey. It’s always been hockey. Always. It’s why my semi-relationship things haven’t worked out in the past—because I can’t put anyone before the NHL.
Especially not this year.
I have to do the right thing and step back.
Then class on Monday morning happens. Suddenly, all those prioritizing thoughts about hockey and agents and my future send up a big white flag.
Because one look at Zach as he enters the room wearing his glasses, baggy jeans, and an Avenger’s T-shirt, and I realize I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m not scared.
But Zach scares me shitless.
I like him, and I don’t know when that happened.
Though it shouldn’t be a surprise. My brother told me he’s off-limits, and I ignored him.
Seth and I don’t have that type of relationship. We always have each other’s backs no matter what.
Except when it comes to his best friend.
I threw a game for Zach and didn’t care. I’ve been suspended from the very game I claim is my everything, and I. Don’t. Care.
Because Zach is … I don’t know what he is.
He’s someone who deserves to be cherished.
I like that he doesn’t understand people but tries to. I love when he blurts out something most people wouldn’t dream of saying and then blushes like crazy.
And, even though it’s a lot of pressure, I like that he’s inexperienced.
I want to be the first and only one to make him come. I want to worship his lithe body and pepper it with kisses, tasting every inch of his skin.
Fuck, I really should not be thinking about that right now.
I shift in my seat, and as if Zach’s in tune with my every move, his eyes meet mine.
I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking about. His cheeks pinken, and I wonder if he’s thinking the exact same thing.
He avoids eye contact more than usual which is saying a lot.
As much as I’d love to corner him after class and drag him back to my room like some sort of caveman, ultimately, it’s up to him if we go any further.
When class ends, I anticipate him slipping away through the side door again, so I rush out of the room and cut him off as he leaves.
“It’s cute you think that’ll work more than once.”
He slumps. “Should’ve known.”
I adjust my backpack on my shoulder. “So, I did some reading yesterday.”
He stares at me. “Umm … congratulations?”
I laugh. “I found out some very interesting things about TAs and what happens if there’s a conflict of interest.”
A few days ago, I wouldn’t have read into his paling skin and the way he averts his gaze as he swallows hard. I would’ve put it down to being one of Zach’s quirks. Now, I know he’s nervous. “What was it?”