“You think I’m freaking out?”
“You’re definitely freaking out. You might suck cock better than me, but I’m better at handling the gay stuff than you.”
I scoff. “I’m not freaking about sleeping with a dude, jackass.”
“Then what’s up with you?” He pats the place beside him. “Come tell Beck all about it.”
“Why haven’t you left yet?”
Anger flashes across his face. “Okay, okay. Shit.” He tries to get up, but I stop him.
“No, no.” I shift closer. “I’m not kicking you out. I’m curious why you haven’t left yet. I thought you would have run right out of here like last night.”
His gaze immediately darts away from me. “Do you know we’ve literally eaten each other’s cum, but … I don’t know a whole lot about you. Like, you said you’re a farm boy. I never knew that.”
“I never told you. I don’t talk too much about myself to anyone except Grant.”
“Grant. Who you’ve never slept with.”
I give him a flat look. “Ever.”
“Ever. Right.”
“Seriously, nothing happened.”
“But you wanted it to?”
This time I can’t look at him. The truth is, I really don’t know. “I was pretty confused. And yeah, he’s attractive and we’re close, but …” The end of sophomore year is when I started picturing the possibility of us hooking up, but none of those fantasies came anywhere close to how things are with Beck. Grant … intrigued me. Beck sets my fucking blood on fire.
“But?”
“Never mind.”
“Yes, I have an excellent reputation for letting things slide.”
I shove him playfully, and okay, maybe I don’t totally hate this. “Okay, you wanna play the ‘get friendly’ game. Let’s do it.”
“Heads up though, I’m a way better friend than you.”
“Gotta be better than me at something I suppose.” I sound so serious and sincere it takes everything in me not to laugh at his surprise.
His expression slowly melts into a smile. “I like this playful side of you, Topher.”
I awkwardly lie back down, and we turn to face each other.
“Let’s start easy,” I say. “What does TJ stand for? I don’t think I’ve heard your first name … ever.”
Beck laughs. “No way. I’m taking that shit to my grave.”
Well, that gets my attention. “Are you saying it’s worse than Topher?”
“I’m saying it doesn’t matter, because you’ll never hear it. On every document in this school, my name is TJ.”
Surely he has to realize it’s now my life mission to figure it out. “Uh-huh. So what can I ask?”
“Favorite food? Beef jerky. Favorite sport? Hockey, duh.”
“What do you wanna do after college?”
Apparently I’ve found another thing that shuts him up because Beck closes his mouth fast. “Your turn. What do you want to do after college? Follow Grant into the NHL?”
I rub my mouth. “I … I dunno.” It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Playing for an NHL team, my whole life surrounded by hockey and all the money that comes with it. “The NHL has a lot of uncertainty, and even making it that far is a slim shot. I can’t afford to wait around in the AHL for someone to decide I’m good enough—”
“You are good enough.”
His words bring a little burst of pride. “Thanks. But it’s not even about that. I mean, there are too many variables. Too much travel. I need to be close to home. My break from the farm was college, and once I graduate, I’m going back to that, along with a real job to help pay for shit around the farm so my parents don’t lose it.”
Beck frowns. “You’re saying if you were offered an NHL contract, you wouldn’t take it? Do you know how much money NHL players make?”
“Do you know how much AHL players make? If we’re being realistic, that’s the most I could hope for. I’m good at hockey, but I’ll never be one of the greats. I’m not egotistical enough to believe otherwise. Grant had scout interest by this point. I’ve barely had any nibbles.”
“Yeah, but that dude was insane. Hockey was his entire life.”
“True. Which brings me to another point. I love hockey, and it’s given me so many opportunities I wouldn’t have normally had, but it’s not my everything. It was my ticket to a stable future. Professional hockey is not stable for players who are only good.”
“Huh. Interesting. Here I was thinking you were only about hockey. Even to the point of sacrificing fun for it.”
I glare at him.
He ignores it. “What else, then? What’s your major?”
“I’m doing a double degree in physiotherapy and health sciences. Figured a position as a PT would be more stable.”
“That sounds … fun.”
I sigh. “This is what I mean. Not everything in life can be fun. I’m the oldest of four kids, and while the idea of a farm boy might be hot to you, it’s a rough life. Some years we’d make a decent profit, other years there was barely money to cover utilities. I don’t want that life, but I can’t abandon my family.”