Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

“We don’t have to do this,” I remind him. “As far as they know, they’re only expecting me.”

He quickly shakes his head. “If we don’t now, he’s going to find out. It’s too much pressure trying to keep you to myself.”

I know what he means. All week Richie’s been training hard, and even though he’s only managed to stay over once since last weekend, he calls me every day. Sometimes we talk, other times we jerk off, and once or twice he’s barely gotten a handful of exhausted words out before he passed out in bed.

If we’re not hiding, I can show up at his dorm, or for lunch, or … literally whenever.

That thought gets me moving.

I’m itching to take Richie’s hand, but I figure it’s probably better we don’t give anything away to begin with. And while I know Foster has no leg to stand on if he’s pissed—even though I doubt he would be—it doesn’t stop the nerves. Because even with our issues, we’re brothers. I don’t want him to be mad at me.

Nothing will stop me from dating Richie, and now that I know the type of draw he must have felt to Zach early on, I can’t hold it against him anymore. He told me before anything happened, and he made it clear that he didn’t need my approval but wanted it anyway.

It’s a weird moment to realize I want the same.

I can’t consciously remember ever wanting Foster’s approval before, but I’m starting to think it’s been there all along. Going to all his games, calling him first when I made it into my master’s program, learning about hockey when I don’t actually give a shit.

Richie squeezes my shoulder. “Should I ask you if you’re okay?”

“I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

I lead the way into the restaurant and give the booking name before we follow the waiter to a table in the back. Zach and Foster are already there, so absorbed in their conversation they don’t even notice us approach.

Richie tugs my little finger gently before pulling out his chair.

“Seth …” Foster drags out my name as he turns to us and sees Richie taking the fourth place at the table. “And Cohen? Hey, man.”

They do a weird dude-bro up-nod at each other as Zach looks on.

Do I lead up to this, or just—

“I hope you don’t care that I brought my boyfriend with me.”

Blurt it out.

Zach chokes on his water at the same moment Richie’s butter knife clatters against the dish.

“Boyfriend?” Richie asks.

“Aren’t we?”

“Are we?” His genuine tone makes me laugh.

I bury my smile into my hand and shake my head. “We’ve got to stop doing this.”

“I dunno.” He rubs his jaw. “I sort of like being surprised.”

“Well, I don’t,” Foster cuts in, voice strained. “What’s happening here?”

I reach for the jug to pour us waters, trying to act like this is a totally normal, casual conversation. “Turns out a lot’s changed since you left.”

“I’ll say.”

“I figured out I’m demi and pan. Who knew?”

Foster’s expression softens. “Wow, Seth. That’s … that’s great.”

“You’re not going to tell me it’s about time?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Pretty much everyone has. Apparently I have a quality.”

He scoffs. “That’s bullshit. If I didn’t know, no one could have because I know you better than anyone.”

Zach lifts his hand. “Except me.”

“Is that really still the case?” I ask.

Confusion crosses his face.

“It’s not like we’ve hung out much lately. And I get why, of course, but I’ve been going through a lot. And Foster, when the hell was the last time it was you and me? I don’t mean hanging out at home, but actually doing anything together. It’s been years.” Is it really a surprise I feel like they’ve left me behind at times? I swallow thickly.

“Seth, I’ve—”

I cut Foster off. “Been busy. I know. And I’m really not mad … well, anymore. With limited time, you have to prioritize where to spend it, and for you guys, it’s with each other. That’s what happens when you care about someone. You want to spend time with them. They’re your priority. I didn’t get it before, because I’d never had it. But ever since Richie and I started dating, he’s shown me. He’s never had to tell me I’m his priority, I just … am.”

Foster looks from me to Richie and back again, face tense like he’s trying to work out math.

“This guy?” he finally asks, pointing at my boyfriend.

“I was as surprised as you are.”

“How … Wh-when …?” He cringes. “Did something happen on New Year’s?”

Lots happened in the hotel. “Well—”

“We met online,” Richie says quickly. “But we didn’t know who we were talking to.”

There goes my fun. “It wasn’t until we were in Montreal that I figured it out.”

“Because I was too dumb.”

“I prefer blinded by my awesomeness,” I say.

Foster does a great job looking like he’s seen Medusa.