Only One Bed
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Her face pinched. “Thank you for telling me, though. I mean, I always knew, but thank you.”
I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “If I was ever going to tell anyone, of course it would be you.” Sam was my best friend, but so was Bree. Just in a different way. “You always have my back.”
“Always, babe. I just want you to be happy.” She held up her hand and counted on her fingers. “You’re happiest when you’re playing piano, when Sam’s around, and when we’re scoring well. And when Sam’s around.” She tapped her baby finger. “Did I mention when Sam’s around?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but could only come up with, “He’s my best friend.”
She sighed. “I know. You don’t want to ruin a good thing, right? Hey, you should see if he can come to Tremblant. If he’ll be in Toronto for the holidays, maybe he can get away for a few days. It’s not too far.”
I’d been so busy with training and worrying about Bree’s concussion that I hadn’t even thought about it. My heart skipped. “Maybe?”
“Your family will be in Florida with your grandparents, and I’ll be with Tim. I’m dying to see him. Have I mentioned that?”
I kept a straight face. “Who’s Tim? Never heard of him.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you I’ve been dating this guy since grade ten and that long distance sucks ass? He’s flying out from Vancouver, and we’re going to spend every second together that you and I aren’t on the ice.”
Her smile faded. “Assuming I can skate and my stupid head doesn’t ruin everything. Because we need all the show money we can get if we’re going to keep paying for ice time and coaching. But if Chloe and Phillipe are coming back, maybe it doesn’t matter after all because we won’t make the Olympics anyway. We might not even make Worlds again.”
I swallowed hard. “Your head isn’t stupid.”
She winced as she stood, and I lunged forward to take her shoulders and keep her steady. She murmured, “Babe, I’m okay. No more dizziness—just the headache.”
Still, I walked her to bed and grabbed her a glass of water so she wouldn’t have to get up in the night if she was thirsty. She smiled sadly and thanked me. Neither of us mentioned our Olympic dream again.
In her doorway, I whispered, “You really think Sam might be into me?”
“I really do. But I don’t know for sure. I could ask him if you—”
“No! Nope. Do not ask him.”
She smiled. “I promise I won’t. Sleep tight.”
Under a weak stream of hot water, I scrubbed clean before bed and tried to stop thinking about Sam. Especially Sam and other guys. Especially Sam being into me at the end of high school? Bree had to be wrong about that. There was no way.
If Sam wasn’t straight, he’d have told me. We were best friends, and I was gay. His brother was gay. He helped organize the trans rights action group in high school. He definitely would have told me.
In my towel, dripping on the polka-dot rug, I paced again. My brain flipped between freaking out about Chloe and Phillipe taking our spot and the idea of Sam liking me back. Sam not being straight.
Obviously it was possible—he could be bi or pan or anything. Lots of people identified as straight growing up and then realized they weren’t. Could Sam be hooking up with guys and not telling me for some reason?
I was wired with tension, and even when I got into bed and closed my eyes, my brain would not shut up. Olympics, Sam, Olympics, Sam, Bree’s concussion, money, Sam, Olympics—was it worth all this sacrifice? Was Sam with other guys?
If so, why wasn’t he with me?
I felt like I was coming out of a spin on the ice, and my brain decided to focus on the idea of Sam with me.
Naked.
My dick was really into the idea, and I latched onto it. Both my dick and the thought of Sam in my bed. I slept naked, and I fumbled for the lube in the drawer next to me. After getting myself nice and slick, I jerked while tweaking my nipples hard.
I’d had a million fantasies of Sam naked with me. I’d seen his bare body randomly—in the locker room after gym or changing when I slept over at the Sakaguchis’ house. He’d filled out a bit since then, but it wasn’t even his body I really fantasized about.
It was the way he laughed so hard sometimes that he snorted. It was that smile. The way it felt like the sun, warm on my face.
But I couldn’t pretend I didn’t also get off on imagining Sam kissing me. Touching me all over. I kicked off the covers and bent my legs, pressing my taint with slick fingers before pushing the middle finger into my hole.