Page 49 of Delay of Game

“Thank you, I, uh... I really like when you like it.”

Zach didn’t say anything, justlookedat him, and Nate concentrated on eating his goddamn dinner, even though his whole body was burning up from the inside out.

By the end of the dinner they were both full and kind of tipsy and Zach had pushed Nate down onto one of the kitchen stools and shoved his way in between Nate’s legs, the warm length of his body pressed against Nate’s chest. Zach’s hand tangled in the neck of Nate’s sweater, pulling his head down. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but Zach’s mouth was so close that Nate could feel it when Zach’s lips moved, feel Zach’s beard soft against his chin. He smelled like wine and coq au vin.

“Let’s go upstairs, huh?”

“But the dishes?” Nate managed. Zach’s other hand palmed his dick through his pants so it wasn’t like he couldhideit.

“I’ll help you do ’em tomorrow,” Zach said, smiling against Nate’s mouth. “Don’t have to go home right away anymore, you know?”

And Nate, who at the heart of things was weak as hell, gave in.

New Zach did keep his promises, after all.

When he finally went home the next afternoon, the dishes were clean, but Nate was left alone to think about how severely all of this had confused him. How he had been thrown into a tailspin. It was partially his own fault. In high school, even though he’d played junior hockey, he’d been an awkward nerd who’d mostly kept to himself and a few male friends who were equally as awkward. He’d spent a lot of time in the offseason smoking pot and playing D&D and going to metal shows.

When Rachel had decided that she wanted to date him, she’d had to ask him out in increasingly obvious ways, and even when he’d finally realized what was happening, he’d stammered his way through the acceptance, and he’d almost saidnoout of terrified reflex, not entirely able to believe that someone like Rachel would be interested in dating someone likehim. Rachel had been smart and beautiful and built like a sparrow, all delicate bones and sharp features. Next to her, Nate had looked and felt like a looming monster.

They’d lost their virginity to each other, a few months later; it had been just about as awkward a first time as you could imagine. He had been so anxious about everything, about hurting her, about the way he looked naked, that he’d actually cried and couldn’t finish. They’d kept trying and, eventually, gotten the hang of it.

He remembered those first few months with a weird, painful nostalgia. The sneaking around to see each other, because their parents would have been horrified they weren’t actually studying. The weird combination of intense teenaged hormones driving them on. The legitimate tenderness between them, before everything had gone wrong.

He didn’t have much to compare it to. For over a decade, Rachel was the only body he knew as well as his own. Things had been fraught and miserable toward the end of their relationship, but even when Rach hadn’t seemed to want to be around him, he hadn’t ever thought he’d sleep with anyone else.

He thought again about the woman he’d picked up in a bar last year. It had been...bad. He’d mostly done it because he’d felt like he should, because he’d been in denial about a lot of other stupid things. He hadn’t really been able to get it up. He’d been so self-conscious about the way he looked, about the way the girl was looking at him. Every time she’d tried to say something nice or complimentary or sexy, it made him feel worse and worse. He’d finally had to tune her out, had to force himself to think about other things just to get hard enough to fuck. In the end it had been mechanical and depressing and he’d absolutely felt like shit afterward. He’d gone home and thrown up and thought maybe he was just meant to be alone.

He hadn’t tried it again.

The pain of losing Rachel was a dull ache these days, whenever he did think about it. And he thought about it less and less, if he was being honest. But the fact was that he didn’t really have any conception of normal dating or sex the same way most of his peers did. He had the wild teenaged years with Rachel, the old-married-couple years with Rachel, and the estranged misery with Rachel. He’d gotten used to life on the road with a fiancée who rarely traveled with him, and the fact that they’d slept together infrequently at best.

He’d gotten really used to his hand.

He didn’t really know what to make of the fact that the more sex he had the more he wanted to have it, and that Zach seemed to be just as into it. It was good, obviously; itfeltreally good. But some part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It couldn’t possibly be this easy. Could it?

He really needed to stop fucking thinking about it.

Even browsing through various social media apps didn’t distract him. He caught himself at it, scrolling mindlessly without actually seeing anything.

At least until Bee texted him, privately, and not on the group chat, and then she had his full attention.

Cap? I have a question for you.

Yes?

When we next go to Montreal the PR team wants to film a mini doc about my brothers and me.

Oh...no.

I told them I would do it because I feel like I cannot say no, but I am not happy about it.

I’m sorry, Bee.

He knew how she felt about her brothers—a sibling rivalry cranked up to one hundred because all of them were insanely successful. The twins had a Cup, but the Cons and Bee were knocking on that door. She had a Rookie of the Year Award, and they had between them a Scoring Champion Award and a Defensive Forward of the Year Award. They were the Morin twins, but she was Beatrice Morin, the first woman to play in the men’s league, and she had been, undeniably, a revelation.

He also knew how Zach felt about her brothers, which was,god, they’re the most insufferable fuckingpricks, Nate, you would not fucking believe it, the stories I could tell you. He didn’t say any of that.

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