That’s a depressing thought.
This is the last year I’ll be playing hockey before getting a “real” job.
Beck skates over to where I’m watching. “Who would have thought this was the same group of dickheads from the start of the summer?”
“I know. The last two weeks is always great, seeing how far everyone’s come.”
Beck’s quiet for a moment, watching the game play out. “I wish I’d done this sooner.”
“Really?” I nudge him with my elbow. “You regretting all those summers in Europe or wherever the hell you went.”
“I … maybe not regret, but …” He huffs out a breath. “It would have been nice to do this more than once. Maybe we would have been friends sooner.”
I like that, no matter everything else, he considers us friends now. I want to joke and tell him there’s no use hoping for miracles, but instead I shoot him a quick smile. “Nah, I think things happened the way they were supposed to.”
We wrap up for lunch a little later, and I can’t hold back my smile as we make our way to the locker room. We strip for the showers, and still no one says anything, so I take matters into my own hands.
“Hey, what’s that on Beck’s ass?”
There are a few sniggers, and as Cohen’s about to jump in, Beck gives me a cocky look I know too well.
“Staring at my ass again, Topher? Should I be worried?”
His words are followed by ooohs and laughing, and then I’m the one on the end of the teasing.
Beck shoots me a sneaky wink before he heads for the showers, towel over his shoulder and ass on full display.
And okay, maybe his ass wasn’t the smartest place to put it.
I quickly wrap my towel around my waist before I get hard at the sight of all his bare skin. That’s the last thing I need with Cohen jokingly telling the others to cover up before I check them out too.
“Whatever, Cohen. You’d probably like it.”
But I guess now I know why no one said anything. You’re not supposed to look at other guys’ butts. Maybe I’ve been queer longer than I thought.
After lunch, Beck and I are scheduled to take the campers through footage of games so they can dissect plays and pick out weaknesses, but while we normally have lunch with whoever is around, Beck pulls me away from the group and we go to a café a few blocks away from the usual one.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you how you’re getting home next week,” Beck says as we sit down to eat.
“My brother came and picked me up last year—he’d just gotten his license—so I figured I’d ask him again.”
Beck nods. “Yeah, or I could drive you?”
“Do you even know where I live?”
“Dorset or something, right? I’m driving Baby to New York, so it’s not far out of the way.”
The offer throws me completely off guard. “Yeah, that’d be … yeah. Great. Thank you.”
“Cool.” He turns back to his food, but I get the feeling he has more to say. “So maybe I could drive up sometime and stay for a few days? Or maybe I could pick you up on the way back here and get to your place a few days early?” His words are so fast I’m not sure I’ve caught them right.
“You wanna stay on the farm?”
“I mean, I don’t have to.” He swallows. “But I bet I could win your family over. I bet they’d be all, Beck, please stay. Topher, we’re putting in for a trade, you go home to Beck’s family instead. In fact, could you? Could you go back to my dad while I stay on your nice, quiet farm and—”
“My family calls me Chris, not Topher.”
He screws up his face. “You don’t look like a Chris. That will be the first thing I do on the farm. I’m gonna get them all to call you Topher, and then we’ll have to look into changing it legally.”
I grin. “You’re rambling.”
He puffs out a laugh and drags a hand over his head. “Shit.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes, we’ll figure something out. Though, the farm is anything but quiet, just a heads-up.”
His smile makes the nerves all worth it. I wanna push things and ask if I can go back to his place as well, but I have the feeling his family dynamic is completely different to mine. My family will be welcoming; his … I get the impression his dad might not be too happy with Beck dating a guy.
I’m not going to put that kind of pressure on Beck or what we have. Whatever that may be.
We’re still figuring it out.
24
Beck
“So, wait, we’re dropping your boyfriend off—”
“Not my boyfriend,” I cut Baby off. “And don’t use that word in front of him.”
She scrunches her brow. “It’s what you are, aren’t you?”