Page 9 of Delay of Game

He wasjealous.

He was jealous and he didn’t understand why. Of course it made sense that Zach should recover from the rough postseason in his own way. Of course it made sense that Zach would hang out with his friends during that time. Nate had chosen this week to be alone; he’d never told Zach what he did during that time because he didn’t want Zach to think less of him.

Heshouldn’tbe jealous. It was what Nate had wanted. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair to Zach. He wanted Zach to be happy more than anything.

The real problem here was that he wasn’t fucked upenough. His body was vibrating, but he was still thinking about this.

It was time to roll another joint and make another drink.

He was in the middle of an inhale when he heard noise from downstairs and choked, lurched to his feet. Almost lost his balance. Realized that maybe he was more fucked up than he’d thought a moment ago. If this was a break-in, he wasn’t gonna be much use after all. But then he heard footsteps on the stairs, someone taking them two at a time at top speed.

He recognized the cadence of the steps, but his brain rejected the thought. It wasn’t possible.

Zach pushed the roof deck door open and for a second, Nate thought,did I go too far this time? Am I hallucinating?There was no way that Zach, tanned and muscular and wearing a tank top that saidI PISS EXCELLENCEcould be here, in Nate’s house. Zach had the door code, sure, but it was not possible. Because Zach was in Mexico until next week.

Nate’s brain wasn’t moving quickly enough to catch up with any of this.

But then Zach crossed the space between them in two very fast steps and threw his arms around Nate. They had hugged before, of course. You hugged a lot of dudes on the ice. After you scored a goal, after your teammate scored a goal, after a devastating loss at the end of the season. You hugged it out. Brief and manly and usually with a slap on the back.

This wasn’t anything like that.

There were no jerseys or pads between them. Zach was wearing that stupid tank top. Nate wasn’t wearing a shirt. The touch of Zach’s skin hit him like an electric shock. He almost recoiled but Zach’s grip crushed his ribs and Zach’s head rested somewhere between his jaw and shoulder and for a minute Nate forgot to breathe. No air in his lungs and his heart stopped. Nate couldn’t tell if it was areallylong hug or if he was just really high and losing track of time. But he eventually remembered that he should do something instead of just standing there. He put his arms around Zach and patted him awkwardly on the back. It was half affectionate and half making sure Zach was really there.

After fifty years, Zach let go and immediately grabbed Nate by the shoulders to hold him at arm’s length. He inhaled. His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened a little, and Nate thought,his teeth are really white. Then:he looks so good. Zach’s beard wasn’t as scruffy as it had gotten during the playoffs, but his messy brown curls were on the longer side, falling in his eyes, and he was glowing a little. Maybe that was just Nate’s brain, but maybe it was one and a half weeks in the sun without a care in the world.

“Um,” Nate said.

“Nathaniel David Singer,”Zach whispered, scandalized.

“What? I mean, what? What are you doing—you’re in Tulum?”

“I’m clearly not in Tulum andyouare clearlyfucked up.” It wasn’t clear whether Zach was horrified, delighted, or both. His fingers dug into the muscle and tendon of Nate’s shoulder and Nate shivered. “Look at youreyes, bro.”

“I, uh... I can’t look at my eyes, they’re my eyes, they’re in my head... I’m not that...”

Zach had never had much respect for anyone’s personal space and inserted himself into it like you would welcome the intrusion. Because he was Zach, because he was terrible and wonderful, most people did. Zach was doing it to Nate right now, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, peering up at Nate’s face like if he looked at it long enough, he’d find some sort of secret. He was so close that Nate could feel the heat prickling his skin, like standing too near an open oven.

“You really are, dude. Holy shit, isthiswhat you do every summer during the week you’re gone?”

Nate’s legs got shaky, and he sat down abruptly on the patio chair. His body weighed a million pounds but his head was floating. “I, uh...” His tongue moved thick and slow. His heart raced and sweat prickled on his back and stomach. “You can’t tell anyone. Zach, you can’t.”

Zach sat down next to him and folded one leg up on the chair with no regard for the fact that he was wearing shoes. Well. Sandals. His tanned, muscular thighs peeked out from beneath what seemed like three-inch inseam shorts.

“Dude, of course I wouldn’t tell anyone. I just didn’t knowyou...” He stared at Nate like he was seeing him for the first time, and Nate withered under the attention. Like he didn’t notice at all, Zach reached out and put his hand on Nate’s knee.

Nate shivered again, but Zach was already asking, “Is this like that Amish teenagers gone wild thing or something? Look, if I do it too, will you stop freaking out? Like you can swear me to secrecy and shit, and I can’t break the bond because I’vepartook?”

“No, that’s a bad idea. A really bad idea. I wouldn’t ask you to...not after what happened in Montreal.”

“I had serious stuff I wanted to talk to you about, but that can wait. Bro, do youknowhow much I like getting fucked up with you and howrarelyyou do it?”

“I can’t during the year,” Nate said, feeling suddenly apologetic. It was hard to deny Zach anything, but this was his captain’s responsibility. “Not like this. I don’t...”

“Okay, shut up. It’s just pot, come on. I’mhere, and I’mso in, bro. Also, I wanna see you do this, it’s like...dude, this is like Christmasanddiscovering a cryptid all at once. It’s like someone gift wrapped Bigfoot for me. Except it’s you.” His eyes were fixed on Nate’s face, and his voice, damn him, had that coaxing softness he used with his dogs mostly but sometimes on Nate, a voice that made it hard to refuse him. “C’mon, Nate, I wanna see you do it. Please?”

Nate looked down at the joint, burned out on the table. He looked at Zach, his face a picture of innocence and longing. He sighed. He picked up the joint and lighter, rolling the end of the paper gently in the flame until it glowed nice and red.

The whole time Zach stared at him, and Nate licked his lips a little nervously. He felt thirteen again, awkward and pimply and hoping desperately to impress the girl he’d had a crush on all year even though he knew she’d never look at him twice. He’d been young and hadn’t known anything then, and he’d spent five minutes coughing and choking, but now he inhaled the smoke into his mouth and held it there. Drew in a breath of air on top of it. Let it sink down into his lungs.

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