Page 48 of First Puck

With Lance in the kitchen, Alex was probably laid out in bed.

My body twisted so I could very unsuspiciously glance at my best friend's open door.

It was dark in the room, and it wouldn’t be too hard to go up and ask if he was okay. Alex would be absolutely furious, but I wanted so badly to see what he looked like when he was all sexed up. Just to check for myself. You know, because I wanted to make sure he was happy and all that.

And to know if he looked satisfied post-sex or if he had the same kind of on-edge tension he’d had with me.

But by the time I’d made a decision to actually cross the line, Lance was sauntering back out of the kitchen with a full jug of water and some fruit piled on a plate.

“Sleep well,” he said, throwing me a wink and a smirk, his voice just a bit too hoarse for my liking.

I nodded, narrowing my eyes the instant he turned away from me. I guessed that was him saying they weren’t coming out for the rest of the night.

There was still music playing from the TV, but I heard Alex call Lance’s name with a laugh before the door shut, sealing them in their own little world, and shutting Alex off from me.

Alex

Lance snuck back to his room around 2AM when we were sure Brad was asleep. I thought I’d be able to stave off the exhaustion with coffee, but I was just standing in our cramped kitchen, staring at the cabinet doors.

I’d never done anything so risky before. I did actually get to do some work on my final assignment, and we ran through some of Lance’s lines for his end-of-year performance for his major. But we spent more time talking than anything else, in between all the moaning. That was the hardest part—or maybe it was pressing innext to Lance, holding him in front of Brad while he looked at us with a blank expression.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling when he saw us. His emotions were usually splattered across his face, but Brad just blinked slowly and replied awkwardly, and then he was just gone.

Lance said now that Brad knew I was gay, Brad 9.0 was bound to succeed.

But how was I supposed to believe that?

I wanted to know if Brad had heard us moaning. It was the most I’d lied so far during Brad 9.0. Everything else had sort of been skirting the truth, but the fake moans made it feel like I was scamming him.

It left me with even more questions about the look he gave me when he saw Lance on my bed.

But it gave Lance space to really talk about his mom and what had been happening with him. Apart from his cousin Porter, no one else knew, and I liked how I could listen as he unloaded. I was his unbiased ear, and I appreciated being needed, especially by someone as strong-willed as Lance.

I grabbed the microwave door and yanked it open before it could beep. My oatmeal was steaming, but I was definitely forcing myself to eat. My brain was racing too fast to really process what I was actually putting into my body.

Brad liked to sleep in until the last possible second, so I could avoid him and his questions. If I had to list all my skills, avoiding talking with Brad about my sexuality and/or my romantic feelings, for him or otherwise, would be straight at the top, with hockey as the only contender.

I blew out a heavy breath, puffing my cheeks. All the other Brad .0s had been silly and I didn’t think they had much of a success rate, but this one felt different. This one felt like I wasreally doing something, like I was actually going to commit and follow it through to the end.

I just hoped it didn’t result in me losing him forever.

“Morning.” Brad’s voice bounced from the kitchen door.

I whipped my head up, jumping back and bumping off a cabinet.

It took me a moment to regain my composure.

He filled the doorframe, wearing nothing but tight navy briefs. It was simply habit that had my eyes scouring his body instead of trying to focus on his face. And he picked up on it.

I’d seen him like this a million times. We had showers together after practice and got changed together, and it was never a big deal for him.

I’d learned how to hide how much I wanted him. It would only show up when he wasn’t looking at me. It was how Lance originally caught me.

Brad tended to walk around in a towel or his boxers, or anything which showed off his chest and the outline of his cock. It wasn’t anything new.

Except now he knew I liked men.

It wasn’t just his sudden arrival that made me jump back; it was the way he looked at me. His hot gaze fed into me, as if he was searching me, looking for something. The air changed, and I didn’t know if he sensed the sticky tension thicken around us.

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