Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

Surprise shoots through her expression, and while most people don’t know what demisexual means, it’s clear she does. “Seth, I …” She can’t finish her sentence.

“I’m really sorry that my need for an emotional connection and lack of sex was inconvenient for you. But guess what? It’s not so great for me either.” I wait for her to leave so I can finish my coffee and sulk in peace.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get the hint. She doesn’t look all that embarrassed either. Instead, her eyes narrow as if she’s thinking really hard about something. “I have a question.”

Of course she does. “I’m not interested in discussing the ins and outs.” Mainly because I haven’t completely worked them out myself.

“No, it’s not that.” She waves my comment away. “But have you ever tried to build an emotional connection before you enter a relationship?”

“You and I were friends first,” I point out.

“Wha—no. What I mean is, meeting people online is a valid and genuine way of forming an attachment without the pressures of performing sexually, and you don’t have the social convention of following the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, you know. Third date equals sex. Wait three days before calling. Online, you can date and chat as many times as you need to before you even agree to meet in person.”

I glare at her purely out of principle, but she has me curious. Online dating isn’t something I’ve given much thought to because I’ve never been single long enough to need it.

“I can tell you’re interested,” she says.

“Hard to say.”

Finally, Emma stands and grabs her bag. “All I’m saying is think about it.” She goes to leave but pauses right next to me. “And, Seth? If you try it, do yourself and favor and don’t limit your conversations to women.” Her sweet and tangy perfume hits me as she leans down. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how horny you’d get after watching a certain show with that Superman actor.”

My mouth hangs open as I turn to watch her leave. For a breakup that started exactly like all the others, Emma certainly ended it with a twist.

I want to call her back and object, detailing all the reasons why she’s wrong, but …

I can’t actually think of any reasons.

Other than I’m the straight brother. Or is that what I’ve been telling myself for years? My bisexual twin has been sex-obsessed since we were fifteen when the thought of even kissing a girl made me uncomfortable. I’m the complete opposite of Foster, therefore I can’t be bi like him … right?

As I pick up my phone and stare at the little app store icon, my scientific brain begins to kick in.

If I am demi, and to be sexually attracted to someone I need to know them first … would gender actually matter to me? Dicks don’t scare me, they just don’t do anything for me. But then again, neither do boobs.

I think of kissing a guy, and it’s as underwhelming as when I picture kissing women.

But everyone always assumes.

And the only way to prove them wrong, to know for sure, is to test the hypothesis with an experiment.

Science 101: online edition.

I mean, what could it hurt?

3

Cohen

The reason I don’t go home often is because CU is a six-hour drive away from Bar Harbor, Maine, where I grew up. It’s hard to find direct flights, and they’re expensive as fuck. It’s cheaper in gas to drive.

There’s only a couple of weeks left of summer, so I figured I should make the trip seeing as I rarely get the chance throughout the school year. As I pull into the driveway of my childhood home, I’m both relieved and anxious.

Mom and Dad are gonna ask me what my plans are. I have one year left at CU, and I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

Hockey didn’t work out for me even though I tried really hard. I put everything I had into it, and I wasn’t good enough to be one of the greats. Hell, I wasn’t even good enough to be one of the mediocres. Apparently college hockey is my talent limit.

Going into this, I figured if I got a degree in communications, it would open a few doors for me in different avenues. Because, you know, a communications degree will come in useful if I move back here to Maine and take over my parents’ bait-and-tackle shop.

Do I want to move to a big city, do I want to come home, do I want to go to an ECHL tryout and earn peanuts but still get to play the sport I love?

I have no fucking idea.

Mom must’ve been waiting for me because she runs out of the house before I’ve even turned the car off. As soon as I unfold myself from my seat, my body aches. I probably should’ve taken more breaks along the way.