Page 3 of Crossed Sticks

I grabbed my phone and found his name in the contacts: Harper. Running my fingertips over the screen, I summoned him from my memory. Light brown hair, messy enough to make me want to card my fingers through it; glimmering hazel eyes that shone like jewels; the face of a cherub all grown up. His mouth had a raffish angle that piqued my curiosity, making me want to find out if his kisses were as naughty as I imagined they’d be.

He’d worn a green polo that made his eyes pop. The well-fitted shirt displayed every peak and valley of the impressive muscles underneath. His khaki shorts had been a revelation, showcasing massive quadzillas and an ass to die for.

I was disappointed when he said he couldn’t leave his buddies, and I tried to get a look when he went back to their table. The place was too crowded to see anything, and when I took another bathroom break, Harper had disappeared. Since he’d seemed as interested as I was, I hoped he’d text later, buthe didn’t. Assuming his friends had taken him to another bar, I left him alone, but my disappointment grew when there was no message the next day, or the one after that.

Harper and I hadn’t even kissed, but he made a big impression. I’d jerked off a few times a day since we met, imagining his pretty mouth around my cock. My fantasies progressed to hearing his smutty moans while I tongued his ass, and when that wasn’t enough, I pictured him laid out on my bed, groaning while I fucked him six ways to Sunday.

I was confused, because this didn’t happen to me. My so-called love life involved dim bars, mumbled words, and dating apps. Occasionally, I liked a guy well enough to see him a couple of times, but never more than that. Whatever happened, I didn’t obsess over men.

It took three beers to untangle my thoughts. Those brief moments with Harper had awakened something inside me. For the first time in ages, I’d looked at someone with what I used to call lust-plus, that feeling you get when a guy turns you on like crazy, and the excitement involves more than just your dick. I couldn’t expect more than a hookup or short-term fling with Harper, but that was for the best. Getting emotionally involved couldn’t happen. Experience had taught me emotions led to feelings, and feelings resulted in devastation.

But would dating someone for a few weeks be so bad? I wasn’t looking for Mr. Forever, but finding a man who could be more than Mr. Tonight would be terrific. Sharing some laughs and a ton of sex was exactly what the doctor ordered. If I kept my guard up and moved on before feelings got involved, I should be safe.

I wondered if Harper would be interested in an arrangement like that. It had been four days since we met, and he still hadn’t texted. Had he found someone he liked better when he andhis friends moved on? Or had he realized there was something about me he’d be better off avoiding?

Granted, I hadn’t messaged him, either, and I didn’t know why I was waiting for him to make the first move. I texted guys all the time. Harper was far from the first man I’d exchanged numbers with, and I’d even joked about blowing up his phone.

Fucking fuckshit. I’d never know if he wanted to hang out unless I asked. Rejection was a risk, but I might still get laid. Either way, I needed company. I’d worked too hard on my mental health to let it go to shit, and Harper intrigued me. It was time to be brave and figure out how to approach him.

What the hell could I say after four days? I’d developed a good repertoire of “let’s meet and fuck” texts, so I tried one of those.

LUCA: Hey, it’s Luca, the guy with the unbelievably sexy eyes. They’d sure like to see you again. Wanna have some fun?

That usually worked, but it wasn’t right for Harper. I deleted the last sentence and substituted, “Coffee and see what happens?”

That wasn’t any better.It sounded like I already had condoms and lube laid out on the bed, so I tried another one I’d used before.

LUCA: Remember the guy who left you breathless? That’s me, and I was wondering if you’d like to get together.

Ugh. Clearly, an original composition was in order. I hadn’t spent so much time deleting and retyping since I used to write English papers, but I finally came up with something I liked.

LUCA: Hey, it’s Luca from Revolution Hops last week. I’d love to see you again. Coffee and conversation? I felt something the night we met, and I think you may have too. Want to meet in the light of day and see if it happens again? :) Hope to hear from you.

It wasn’t perfect, but it would get my sentiments across. This was a landmark in my post-Caleb life. I heard an imaginary drum roll while I took a deep breath and hit Send.

2/

harper

I stretchedawake to bright sunshine streaming through the windows. The Warriors had come through; the loft apartment they’d found me, tucked away on the third floor of a repurposed downtown warehouse, was perfect.

The main level was a spacious open living room with a kitchen on one side, and in the back were a full bath and separate laundry room. An “industrial chic” staircase led to the loft, a large bedroom with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. Brick walls, maple and stainless-steel fixtures, hardwood floors, and polished metal ceilings turned the place into a private castle just for me.

The only snag was the lack of drapes or blinds. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined every exterior wall, offering a panoramic view of Lake Erie. As breathtaking as it was, waking up to the blinding light of the rising sun was far from ideal. Thankfully, an interior designer was sending someone over at noon. She said I could order window treatments on the spot, so with any kind of luck, the asscrack-of-dawn wake-up calls would soon be a thing of the past.

Groaning, I pulled the covers over my head, and the sun was higher in the sky when I woke again. I came up empty when Ireached to the nightstand for my phone. Flopping my head back down on the pillow, I remembered leaving it downstairs after catching up with some old teammates last night. Tyler Jensen and his husband, Kev Moore, had called to see how I was doing, and I talked their ears off.

Although I’d miss the Bethesda Barracudas, the trade to Buffalo was a good move for me. The Barracudas had been the dominant team in the league for years, but since their roster was packed with all-stars, I hadn’t had too much time on the ice. The coach put me in when he could, but I often had to play right wing, not my strongest position.

Although I didn’t get as much ice time as I wanted, I’d always give the Cudas credit for three things. They gave me good experience, brought me together with guys who became the best friends I’d ever had, and never once hinted at trading me. They made me feel like a keeper in hockey, so I knew I could do something right. Yet when the Buffalo Warriors initiated the negotiations to acquire me from the Cudas, my agent and I recognized it as a golden opportunity. The Warriors needed a strong center, and I’d finally have the chance to prove what I could do.

The damn sun seemed brighter than ever, so I got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. After taking care of business, I pulled on basketball shorts and a tank top before heading downstairs to make coffee. Although I’d never touched the stuff in college, I became an addict as soon as I started with the Barracudas. Now, I wondered how I ever lived without it.

I was pulling eggs and fruit out of the refrigerator when I remembered my phone. Since I could never resist checking my messages first thing in the morning, I set the food on the counter and walked across the room.

The phone was on the coffee table, and my heart went into double-time as soon as I saw Luca’s message on the screen. Myinsides vibrated as images of him flooded my mind—handsome as a movie star, with a perfect smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made me want to kiss him. My cheeks burned when I remembered the raw hunger sparking between us. The connection had been undeniable, and his message left me on the spot because I had to make a decision.

If half the Warriors hadn’t gone out of their way to show me a good time on Thursday night, I’d have wound up in bed with Luca then. I nearly texted him when I got home, but as much as I wanted to see him again, nervousness had made me hesitate. It wasn’t so much the “keeper” thing. I’d probably never find a guy who wanted me long-term, but I was no stranger to hookups, and I could have used a good fuck after the misery of my move. The problem was I dreaded hearing the line that seemed to be inevitable: “You play professional sports? I’d love to get fucked by a hockey player.”

---