Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

I’m not going to do my usual needy thing and try to force this and drag him into a conversation he might not be ready for—hell, I might not even be ready for. I’m just going to see where it goes.

Well, I’ll try to.

We have another night here in Montreal before going home tomorrow, so there’s no point talking about anything today.

Richie catches my attention again as he turns to say something to Beck, and the collar of his shirt shifts.

My eyes almost fall out.

There, on his neck, is a dark splotchy mark that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

Uh-oh.

Clearly I was way too focused on his dick to notice anything else this morning.

I pull a face at Richie and subtly point to my neck, hoping he gets the message. Instead, his eyebrows bunch up and he tilts his head a little, then shrugs at me. Not subtle at all.

So not subtle, Beck follows Richie’s gaze to me, just as I point at my neck again.

Beck’s stare flies back to Richie, then to me, then back to the gigantic goddamn hickey.

I very nearly face-palm, but the look that crosses Beck’s expression is so comical, I can’t look away. His eyes get all big as he looks upward, and then he very deliberately rolls his lips in, holding back his laugh.

“You okay?” Foster asks him.

“Okay?” Beck forces himself to inhale. “I’m fucking fantastic. So fantastic, I’m buying everyone a round of fruity-as-fuck cocktails. Want one, Cohen? Seth? Of course you do! This is great. Lunch is great. What a fantastic day.”

We all watch him leave.

“I don’t understand,” Zach says. “Did he hit his head while we weren’t watching?”

I can’t help it, I start to awkwardly chuckle, expelling some of the tension building in me. All lunch I wait for Beck to give us away, and all lunch, Beck seems to get even louder and more obnoxious than usual.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to keep the attention on himself. Then again, from what I know of Beck, this is probably him living up to his reputation of being an attention whore.

It’s not until we’re finally leaving that I pull Richie aside.

“Do up your top button.”

“No way.”

“You’ve got a hickey—now do it the hell up. Or, here, cover it with my scarf.”

“Shit.” I don’t need to tell him again. He works quickly. “Gone?”

Richie looks so adorably perplexed, I smile. “We’re a pair of idiots.”

“No arguments from me.”

His hand brushes mine, setting off a series of tingles up my arm, as he follows Foster outside. We walk along the main strip, and I watch him, still finding it so weird that he’s the man I’ve been talking to for months. For someone I assumed was just my brother’s ex-teammate who helped me out when I was drunk once, he officially knows more about me than anyone else here.

I fall into step beside Zach and take a deep breath, preparing to eat my words. “So have you got your visa stuff organized?”

He shoots a quick glance my way, like he’s not sure whether to respond. “I, umm, have everything ready. I just haven’t submitted it yet.”

“Really?” But we talked about this months ago. “Why not?”

“I got cold feet. I really want to go, but it seems like such a huge step.”

And this is why I’ve always encouraged rather than discouraged Zach. Which is what I should have been doing this whole time. “It is, but I know you can do it.”

He squints up at me. “You do?”

“Yes. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“And you give me too much.”

“How long does the visa take?”

“Umm, usually ninety days at the most.”

He could already be living here? The thought both fills me with dread, and yet is more of a reminder of what an asshole I’ve been. I lick my lips that have dried out thanks to the cold. “Apply. As soon as we’re back.”

“I’m … maybe I’m a bit scared too though.”

“What?”

“You’re my crutch. I went to CU pretending I was doing some big, brave thing, when secretly, I knew you were right there. If anything happened, if I completely failed, you were my safety net. I …” He looks around. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave you yet.”

“You’ll have Foster.”

Zach shakes his head. “He’s not like that for me. Foster is so many things, but he gets me to stand on my own feet. I liked knowing you’d always be there to take care of me and make things better. And that wasn’t fair on you.”

He’s right. If Zach had a problem, I’d fix it. If he needed something, I’d give it to him. There’s never been anything other than friendship between us, and I think that’s why we were so close. When we met, he was socially awkward and introverted, and the day he confessed he was still a virgin and didn’t know what all the fuss was about was the day I knew we were meant to be best friends. I never had to pretend to be sex-crazed like everyone else our age seemed to be, and maybe finding comfort in each other is what prolonged my denial of being anything but straight and picky.