Page 88 of Playoff

“No…it feels perfect. I want more. Always.”

And as always, he gives me exactly what I need.

Rough and tender, sexy and erotic, romantic and dirty… all the disparities that turn me on. And him too apparently.

We come together, our bodies in perfect sync as we find nirvana, and then he kisses me again. Soft, playful, delicious kisses that make my toes curl and my heart flutter with giddiness.

Every damn time.

It’s been almost a month, and it’s still as wonderful as the very first time.

“You know how to say good morning,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck.

“I try.” He doesn’t move for a while, pinning me in place in the most wonderful way.

Finally, he pulls out and we make our way into the bathroom to clean up.

When we’re back in bed I realize it’s only seven, so we still have time to lounge around. Eventually order breakfast. Maybe even make love again. We slept from about nine to six which is a good night’s sleep, so I feel better than I have in days.

“Can we talk about something?” he asks after a few minutes.

“We can talk about anything.”

“Well, it’s a little awkward, but I think we need to discuss the disparity in our salaries.”

“Okay.” We haven’t talked about our salaries at all, but he’s right that we probably should. Before things get any more serious than they already are.

“I make fifty grand a year. It’s not terrible but it’s not great, and I know you make more.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I make right around six figures,” I say. “It’s a little above average because Ms. Barrowman adjusts for the cost of living in L.A.”

“That’s quite a bit more than me… does it bother you?”

“We wouldn’t be here if it did. Your salary is public knowledge.”

“It’s going to take me a few years to get my feet under me financially if I don’t get picked up by the Phantoms,” he continues. “Like I’ve told you, unless I’m playing in the NHL, I’m only going to play one more season for the Rebels. Then I want to go back and finish my degree. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to think I’m going to mooch off of you. I’ll work at a gym or get a job waiting tables—whatever it takes to pay my share while I’m finishing my degree and stuff.”

“Oh geez. I wouldn’t think anything like that. I don’t care how much money you make. Yeah, you need to work, but I’m honestly more concerned that you seem convinced that you’re not going to be with the Phantoms next year.”

He doesn’t respond for a few minutes, staring up at nothing, as if there’s something on his mind.

“Blake?”

“Look what happened to Bodi,” he says finally. “That could be me. That’salwaysbeen me. So I’m trying to plan my future—and maybe our future—based on reality, not my dreams. I’m still planning to play my ass off to the very end, but in a few weeks this will be over, and I need a solid Plan B. Probably plans C and D too.”

“I’m proud of you,” I reply, “That’s mature and forward thinking. But you need to put all the positivity out into the universe. That youwillmake it to the Phantoms. That you will be playing in the NHL. Even if it’s just one season. One season atthe league minimum is more than ten times what you make now. That’s enough for you to put away money for school so you don’t have to worry about working while you’re finishing your degree, and maybe even help you open that gym you talked about. If that’s still in your plans.”

“It is. I have options, which is why I want to finish my degree. It’s just… there’s so much going on right now. The playoffs, parents in town, the no fraternization clause… More than anything, I want us to find our footing as a couple before we make big decisions.”

“At some point, we’re going to have to. The no fraternization clause is going to be a problem.”

“What if we hired a lawyer to help us renegotiate your contract?”

I hesitate.

I don’t want to do anything to risk my job, but I also don’t want to lose him.

This is getting even more complicated than I anticipated, and there are no easy answers or solutions.

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