Page 93 of Breakneck Hockey

“Wait, Sutter. You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Mhm, alright. What’s my penance, Alderchuck?”

That has my cheeks heating in a new way. He’s such a fucking flirt, and it gets me every time.Stay strong, Alderchuck.

“Not penance exactly. I have a new rule to add to our … whatever the fuck this is.”

“Yes?”

“Never eat poutine without me again. Especially don’t eat poutine with hockey players from Boston, or I’ll put your fucking nuts in the deep fryer at my old work.”

His laughter is loud. Booming. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like that before. It’s pure or some shit. “Deal, kitten. What should I do with the rest of this?”

“Don’t waste it, Sutter. Fuck. Maybe, um, more pictures?”

“Ha! I was right. Knew you’d love my food porn photoshoot. You got it. I’ll make it good.”

I stare at my phone once he’s gone, not sure what to make of any of that, but my appetite’s made a roaring comeback and there isn’t enough cheddar and pasta in the world that can satiate me.

“You gonna eat that?” I ask, gesturing to Jack’s abandoned bowl.

“Nah. It’s yours.” He slides it over to me. Stares. Smiles.

“You got something to say?”

“Only if I was a hypocrite, but I’m not. Just remember what I said about things that make you miserable.”

“Don’t you ever insinuate that I’m in love with Sutter. Maybe friends. We’ve been friendly before. Yeah, it was only for a hot minute, but we’re growing up now.”

He downs the rest of his beer. “If you say so, man.”

Asshole. He doesn’t believe me.

“But dude, if someday I find out you’re more than friends with Sutter, I want a tattoo of my choice on your body,” he sayswith the devil in his expression. “It’ll never happen, so taking a bet like that’s low risk, right?”

“You’re on, Jack Leslie,” I say. And then I shake on it with all the confidence in the world.

Just because Sutter’s somewhere in Montreal eating nacho poutine, and just because he’d lick ketchup off my dick, doesn’t mean we’re destined for love. If anything, it means we woulda killed it making OnlyFans content for people with food fetishes.

Chapter 17

Watermelon Jolly Ranchers

Sutter

Abag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers taunts me from my dresser drawer. The only place I could find them was Theo Meyer’s online candy shop. But after being pathetic enough to go for poutine because I was missing Casey, this was the next logical step. I’m going to contract a cavity sucking on these things, but I need to taste him.

One. Just one. I shove the rectangular-shaped candy in my mouth and suck, swirling it around my tongue. Great. Now I’m making out with candy like he does, but this is what his mouth tastes like as if it’s permanently flavored watermelon, and I’m fucking craving him.

I can’t go on like this. Something’s gotta give. I might be in too deep already. Could it work between us? Even if we could get along for five minutes, our logistics are fucked. We’d barely see each other. I know his friend Jack and Jack’s man Mercy are doing the long-distance thing, but they have a kid so there’s more pressure to make it work.

Or something.

Don’t really know much about that situation, nor do I give a fuck to, but Casey’s mentioned it in passing. Something about Mercy’s dad. Something about Mercy’s dad being highly irresponsible. It’s too much of a soap opera, I can’t keep track, and I’m not into that shit at all. If they’re happy, though, good for them. Point is, they’re making all that work, and if they can do that, Alderchuck and I can manage just us two.

Right?

I’m not sure I know how to boyfriend, though. The last time I was majorly serious with anyone was high school. It’s been hockey, hockey, hockey ever since. I have dated a string of men at various times throughout my hockey career, but things were still too casual to label it more than what Casey and I have going on now: Almost exclusive fucking.

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