"Put my phone on DND 'cause I don't want nobody to call."
DND
Glaive
Dream
Let's face it I'm in a very deep love/hate relationship... with hockey that is. Coach Carrion is one of the top coaches in the league and, well, an arrogant ass about it. He's played on three major NHL teams in his odd 60 years. With a torn ACL and a metal hip, he was forced to retire on a fortune. Like most injured castoffs, Coach Carrion has taken up the liability that is coaching college hockey. Just my fucking luck.
"17, communication! This isn't a mirror for you to look in, it's a team, dammit!" And yeah maybe he's funny, but when he's yelling at me I'm slightly more pissed off than I usually would be playing this game.
I think I was six when my dad dragged me out onto the ice during winter break. School was a fucking nightmare, kids were mean, and they didn't like the kid who played video games religiously. They liked the athletic kids, the ones who knew baseball and how to take someone out with a dodgeball. And poor me at that age sucked at anything other than running, so as a saving grace, my dad dragged me out to try a sport he quit after college because he fell in love with mom. I admired him while also believing he was the stupidest man in the world for dropping such an opportunity to get married. Falling in love would be irrelevant to me if I was offered a spot on a NHL team.
"22 stop cutting your teammates off!" Sapnap's aggression in this game was unmatched within his regular day-to-day attitude. Off the ice, my housemate was the most level-headed out of us. Though, don't get me wrong, he can get crazy once he's had a drink or two. Or George's little roommate, who seems to be able to pull the crazy out of anyone, reigns and whips things into action.
The ice beneath my skate grinds into vigorous shavings as I track it to make my shot against Sam. In all his burly guarding equipment he looks like a beast. As if he'd trample you no matter the size, but off the ice, he's one of the sweetest most genuine guys on the team. A little bulky with his voice and his laugh an equal fit, the man lives off sweats and snapbacks but is truly kind-hearted. I live with him, Sapnap, and a guy we call Punz, off campus. It's never a dull moment to say the least.
"Dream!" As I circle around the lit-up goal light, Sam's heavy chuckle meets my ears and he shoves me. "Ah baby, you danced left before that one. I see you took my advice to switch up your tells. Sexy."
"Anything for you, babes." I get another shove and then Coach's ear-splitting whistle blows over my left shoulder.
When the flinch inevitably centers in my bones Coach rumbles with peeved attitude and says, "showers. We're done for today. Remember no practice until Friday, as my wife is dragging me on an escapade."
"Ayoo coach," Punz grins, helmet in hand, "Escapade? I thought you were too old to enjoy those activities?"
"Thin ice 15," Coach hisses, though his smile is lingering on his forehead lines. "And if you all wanna know my nephew is getting married."
The team cheers and Coach shakes his head muttering mild profanities about his dumbass team. We all know, despite how much he denies and yells at us, just how much he actually cares about each one of us. Knowing everyone to a Tee, even the freshman, is his first giveaway.
Showering like my life depended on it, I'm out of the locker room faster than the rest of the team. And I have zero fucks to give about it. Being free for three days sounds like heaven served on a silver platter and sprinkled with stardust. Outside around the rink, Courtney, my girlfriend, usually waits for me. We've been together since the end of sophomore year.
My professor sucked ass and she was some kind of English Wizz and bam I had a girlfriend who wasn't already obsessed with my existence. And I know that sounds like a narcissistic way of thinking but it's true. It's true for everyone on the team, hockey just seems to drop everyone's pants the second you mention it. Which is why most of the guys are players to the third degree. With the amount of puck bunnies lined up, I don't blame them. Some of those people are extremely hot and tempting. Even I indulged when I had the chance.
Courtney looks like a strawberry shortcake when I set my gaze on her. A hot pink dress washes out my vision almost as much as her chrome heels do. Half of it is designer and expensive and whatever the fuck she thinks is new end. I love her sometimes. That sounds condescending but it's hard being in love all the time. Like a chore that will eventually turn out good when I just go with it for long enough. Today it's easy, I kiss her cheek ready to take her to her next class but she stops me with her pink nails and sighs.
"What?"
She frowns and scrunches her nose indicating her annoyance, "I said I'm leaving for a few weeks and we need to take a break."
Well, everything plummets to the ground. The high I had on being free for three days, gone. She's looking at me like she might cry and I'm panicking. Palms sweating in anticipation.
"Where are you going?"
"My sister is moving to Europe," her tone reminds me of a cloud. Airy, like this, is breaking her heart to tell me and she wants to be far from it. "I have to help her move into her flat. And I've taken the time off. I think... I think we should take a break to think about things as well."
"Is this about last weekend?"
"Yes."
I close my eyes and rake a hand over my forehead, "I'm sorry I freaked out, Court. Really. I know I want you in my future. I... we don't need to take a break when we're okay."
She smiles, hand caressing my cheek like it always does. It used to shake me to my core and it still does now. Because yes, I do love her. Maybe not like the poems preach on about, but there would still be a hole in my heart if she left me.
"I know, Dream, but I think I might need time to think about us." Her smile isn't vicious, she's never been hostile towards me despite the others I've seen her take down, but it is final. She's already made up her mind. "You're going to go Pro and I'm going into my family's Law firm. We just. We need to figure ourselves out before we do us."
I swallow, "so, you're breaking up with me?"
"No," she shoots out, "no. We're going on break. We can do whatever we like just not together."
"So, we're breaking up."
"No." Courtney pulls her touch from me and fixes her dress, "we're on break. Look, I have to go to my parent's house today. And then I'm flying out tomorrow."
Gripping my bag on my shoulder I nod solemnly and shocked, "sure Court. See you in two weeks I guess."
A huff, and then she kisses me. It's what I imagine someone would love but her chapstick tastes like cinnamon and... I hate cinnamon. I kiss her anyway because my heart is in my throat and she still makes me giddy despite everything.
"I love you," she whispered when we pull away.
"I'll see you in two weeks."
***
George shows up uninvited. In his work clothes, he shoves through my bedroom door and starts searching through my drawers. I stop mid-sip of tequila and let out a confused sound. He's digging through my underwear drawer like a maniac before he pulls out a textbook that I had no idea was even there to begin with.
It's late, and by the looks of it, George must've walked here from the coffee shop down the road. His outfit is cute, black jeans and a maroon shirt. It holds the logo of the shop in the right breast pocket, his name below it on a plastic clip.
"Hey?"
"Hey," he said offhandedly. With eyes on his phone, he texts something vigorously, shoves the device back into his pocket, takes out a different textbook, and shoves the new one into the underwear drawer. By now my drunk brain is diverging in several directions. I have confidence to speak of the first.
"Why are your books in my drawer?"
"Why are you hammered on a Monday night?" He's not looking at me and it's bothersome. So much so that I stand up setting my drink on the nightstand. I tower over him about a foot or so. When we were little he used to be taller than me, sweet about the situation unlike myself. I rest my chin on his hair and hum at the familiar scent of his shampoo.
"Courtney broke up with me?" His body stiffens beneath me, neck tense enough to show his tendons. "Well, more like a break. But it's the same difference."
"I'm sorry." His brows do that thing. The cute little quirk up, concern and confusion. "Maybe she'll change her mind."
"Maybe," I whisper. I don't want to talk about Courtney right now. All I want is George. George who just happens to be in my room when I need him. I want to bury myself in his smell and his voice and his smile and never resurface, it's the alcohol that makes me like this. That makes me find him so attractive. "Can I kiss you?"
The sigh he releases seems tired. And I guess he has every right to be if he just got off work. If he walked the half mile to get here. If he came to get homework for the week. Yet still, I beg for something I know he'll give me, something I know he wants as well.
"Please?" He lets me kiss him. And sometimes I don't know why he puts up with it, why he gives me anything. He deserves so much more than what I give him, which is absolutely fucking nothing to be exact. George is beautiful, hot, kind, easy to talk to, and yet I've found him alone since the day we met. Sometime in grade school he was reading a book instead of playing outside and I found him comforting. And that stuck ever since.
When my life falls apart I'm brought back in by whiskey and soft inebriated kisses. I've never kissed him sober, I honestly never plan to. That would make whatever kind of distraction this is real and then I'd have to deal with even more bullshit. Hockey and Courtney is enough.
I kiss him like he's all I'll ever want. Like I'm dying and he's my last breath. Sometimes it feels like it. A last breath of air in a burning building. George kisses back like I'm the only thing he wants and that makes me feel so seen, it's frightening. He lets me press him down against my sheets and take him apart with my own body. Ruin my ruthless thoughts in fucking him like everything is depending on us. George never leaves marks on me, I've asked him not to. Courtney wouldn't like it, she would break from it, she's soft, and hearing how I have meaningless sex with my best friend would ruin her. But George likes marks. He likes to be painted in purple and mulberry up and down his torso and his thighs, so I paint him like he's mine and he groans like he wants to be owned.
Though I enjoy this more than a lot of things in my crazed life, I do often miss when we did speak more. I just don't know how to change our course of action from this.
I'm tired when we finish, George's hand runs through my hair as I catch my breath. He's quiet tonight, reserved rather than talking about a class or work or mindless rambles to fill the air. It's a bit eerie really?
"You okay?" I kiss him gently turning his chin to get a good look at him. Within those soft brown eyes, I find him miles away from what's happening. George's mind appears to be somewhere else when he smiles. The expression almost feels sad when I push his hair over.
"I'm just fine." Before I can pull him in for another kiss he's up cleaning himself off like he's done a thousand times. And I realize I'm not as wasted as I usually am because I'm noticing too much. I'm seeing George's deep frown when he pulls his jeans back on. I'm seeing the way his hands are shaking when he fixes his shirt. When he turns back to me his frown is gone and it feels like I've imagined everything. "Let me clean you off then you can go to sleep."
The words sound practiced.
"I've got it." I swallow and take the rag from him causing an abrupt pause. He looks at me clearly for a moment. We're at a standstill. He wants to ask something, I can see it in the way he hesitates, but he shakes his head instead.
"I'm gonna go," this feels heavier than usual. "See you tomor..."
"You're not staying?" I say it before I'm even thinking about saying it. Words tumbling out too fast for me to stop them.
George stays close to the door and looks at me like I've grown three heads. He bites his lip and then thinks better of the action, "no? ...you don't want me to."
I scoff now, "I didn't say that."
"Oh." He looks lost. It's almost cute how lost he looks. A tiny smile brushes my lips.
"Come here," quiet, gentle. "It's a long walk to campus and I shouldn't drive right now. Stay we can get breakfast before class tomorrow."
George's mouth looks like a fish out of water. Blubbering over whatever he wanted to say, he eventually rolls his eyes and shuts my door again. Throwing his clothes back off garment by garment, he steals one of my shirts from the ground. It's too big for him, long enough to meet the middle of his thighs. My heart skips a beat when he crawls back beneath my sheets. I reach for him.
Hands hold onto me like I'll change my mind and send him off any second. I won't, I never have. He used to always stay the night, but at some point I think he got bored of cuddling with me. After parties now, he sends Courtney up. And I love holding her but... it's not the same. It doesn't feel the same. I haven't thought too hard about why.
A kiss lands on my sternum before I ask, "what was with the textbook?"
"I had your computer science book instead of my English through the ages one. We studied the other day."
"No, we didn't. We had sex on the couch." My tongue is loose but the grip on my brain is sharp. The need to take a stick to the head grows like the heat in my cheeks.
George closes his eyes and pulls me closer, "we were supposed to study but you were drinking with the team beforehand."
I feel guilty now because I think I suck at being a good friend to George, "I'm sorry."
"I don't care." And maybe he says he doesn't but his sagged shoulders tell me otherwise. Doing this with George is different when I have a hand on my mind. Sobriety swooping in slowly to cause a whirlwind of overthinking. "I didn't want to study anyway."
Silence covers us in warm breaths. We listen to the other guys downstairs getting ready for bed or late-night snacks. I missed this, just existing in the same air and room as George without doing anything sexual. Like at the diner I took him to, he seemed content then. Not so much now.
"Have you gone on a date yet?"
"What?"
"In college," why I'm asking I have no fucking clue, "has anyone taken you on a date?"
He snorts now pushing his nose beneath my chin like it's a funny joke, I sigh at the erratic beating of my heart.
"I did have someone ask me on one today."
"What did you say?" I seem to be more excited than he is about it.
George's laugh is bitter, "a group of guys came up to order. I made their drinks and heard them laughing about something over in the corner. When I finished up their order one of them asked me out. And when I said yes he started laughing. Apparently, it was a homophobic bet. I think he won fifty dollars."
George is giggling to himself like it didn't matter and my heart is now aching. People are cruel for no reason, for personal fucking entertainment. I caress his shoulders and gather my thoughts.
"Want me to beat them up?"
He sighs, "no, Dream. You can't beat up everyone that is homophobic towards me."
"I can try."
He laughs again. Breath even an amused. It reminds me of home somehow, maybe it's because it sounds the same as it did when we were kids. Whispering in my bedroom trying not to wake up my parents over stupid jokes.
"You don't have time for that," George says. "I barely see you as is, I don't need you using that time to fight off the world of homophobes."
My heart is aching with guilt again.
"I'm off most of this week and weekend," I say openly. "Sam, Sapnap, and Punz wanted to have a movie marathon. Will you come hang out with us?"
"When?" George is yawning now. Sweet and soft and pliant in my arms, I brush over his closed eyes with the pad of my thumb. His cheek. He swats me away playfully.
"Saturday," I say. "And we can actually study tomorrow if you want. You can stay over. I'm not... I won't be drinking."
George smiles at the last part, nuzzling down against me like he's always meant to be there. "Good. I miss you."
"I miss you too."
Then he's asleep and I'm following in his footsteps a second later, mildly uncomfortable with my own thoughts. Courtney should be boarding a plane right about now.
***
The morning brings chaos. Everyone in the house has early morning classes and seems to be awake with the sun.
Sam, in all of his cooking glory, has a cutting board out and is throwing diced strawberries into a batter bowl. I'm practically salivating at the smell of cooking pancakes. There's already a stack of blueberry plated on the counter. Sapnap seems to have made a plate as well as Punz. George is a few steps ahead of me, dressed and ready for his early lecture of some character development bullshit. He has my clothes on, it's a bit distracting, how comfortable he looks. I groan. I'm slightly hungover shading my eyes against the bright overhead kitchen light.
Like a quick forward, George slips around Sam's cooking and pulls painkillers from the left cabinet. And just when I think he might get in Sam's way he slips around him offering him the spatula the other man was desperately searching for. George smiles and pats his shoulder as he digs through the fridge for a bottle of water. Then he's before me with a blank expression and an offering palm.
"What?"
He scoffs, pulls my chin down, my mouth falling agape to give him enough access to press two pills between my teeth and shut my mouth.
"You're so helpless."
Graciously, I take the water bottle. Maybe I'm a little in shock at how this all worked out well. Even the way George decided that Sam's breakfast is better than going out, stealing a plate, and sitting down at the bar. I look like an idiot. Standing between the archway with my mouth slightly open, in awe. It's because I forgot how easy George is. He doesn't complain, or bitch, or demand things, he goes with the flow of my world, and I go with his. George melds so easily it's so different from Courtney.
"Idiot," George mutters mouth full, "sit down and eat something with that medicine or you'll puke during your first lecture."
Sam looks at me out of the corner of his eye, questioning me. I snap out of it then. Shake my head and take a seat next to my best friend. He kicks me for good measure. I lay my head on his shoulder as payback. The brush of his lips over my forehead is quick, joking even, but something in the way he smiles tells too much and not enough.
A/N
Well, look another chapter. If you were looking for a distraction I hope you found one here.
Thank you for reading 💚