Page 24 of My Pucking Crush

He must be bi.

Like me. But...he was forced to marry her.

Luca leans against Coach’s desk staring me down, begging for a follow-up question.

I selfishly swim in worry that he’ll see right through me. My darkest secrets. Jake ended things because it made him feel dirty. He got a scholarship at the one college I didn’t want to go to. His girlfriend followed him there, and I have no idea what happened after that.

“Now you’re a bodyguard,” is my lame answer.

“I’myourbodyguard. I do security for the team. Coach Beck gave me this assignment.” His brows furrow. “But I’m going to leave the team after this season. Personal reasons.”

Sure,mylife is an open book, but he can keep secrets.

It hits me. He’s leaving after this season. If we don’t make the playoffs, that will be in a matter of weeks. It’s unlikely we’ll get shut out of the postseason, but we have several games with key teams that will finalize the brackets.

I have to focus.

Yet, my eyes stay glued to Luca’s mouth. The idea of a man’s cock sliding in and out of those full, red lipsaround scruff from his beard has my cock twitching like crazy.

My cock...

“Are you seeing someone now?” I ask, having confusing thoughts about Luca sword-swallowing a dude.

“No.” He shakes his head.

Can I just use him to figure my shit out? To decide if that’s the life I want?

My history with Jake might turn him off. How pathetic I was my high school freshman year sneaking off to give him blowjobs.

Jake’s face flashes at me. How am I supposed to reflect on what he meant to me? I feel like a perv now that I’m an adult, thinking of going down on a high school kid. It suddenly doesn’t feel like a solid memory.

Then there’s what Uncle Harris did to me.

“What is your problem, Ryan?” Luca uses my last name. “Do you need to get laid? You look frustrated.”

I consider how much I needed to get laid several days ago and how that ended up. And my need for sex is still not met. That edge still feels razor sharp.

“I do, actually.” I cross my arms to mimic him. “What about you?”

“Always. Damien Carter might like my cock.” His words cut a sting of jealousy through me that feels like a Portuguese man o’ war. I know because I’ve been stung by one.

It’s goddamn paralyzing.

“If you touch him...” I jump from my chair, still in my skates and lean into him, smelling his aftershave.

But a knock on the door sends me back a few steps.

Coach Beck enter his office and looks from me to Luca. “You two kiss and make up?” His face changes when I gasp into my hand and wince. “How’s your wrist, Ryan?”

“I’m fine,” I say, as most players lie to Coach.

Then sneak off to the trainers for their magic hands, stretching, massages, creams, tapes, and the occasionallegalnarcotic.

“We’re fine,” Luca backs me up.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Coach asks me.

“You bet.” I push out of the room and tromp with my skates to find a trainer to stop this pain.

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