Page 68 of Brace and Chase

But why did he feel the need to lie?

We’ve gotten good at being together twenty-four seven over the past two weeks, so what changed today?

Or has he been pretending?

The thought is mortifying.

In any case, he might be out for a couple of hours, maybe more, so for my own sanity, I need to find something to do with myself.

I put on the washing machine, adding Nikolay’s clothesfrom the suitcase and duffel he left by the entrance, and feel like a fool. Like I’m just now realizing I’m being made fun of.

Could that be it?

I guess it’s possible he’s been making fun of me behind my back this whole time, but...

No. I know that can’t be right.

The few serious—maybe even sentimental—moments we’ve had since we were benched couldn’t have been fakes. Not unless he’s Meryl-Streep-good at acting. All those times we’ve celebrated a goal or a win on the ice. Every heated glance after I took a shower or he did while we were in our hotel rooms... I’m sure those were real.

Once the clean-up is as good as it’s going to get, I decide to shower off the travel, and once I’m under the spray my hand automatically goes to my hardening dick.

Pavlov’s dog, I think, remembering that conversation Nikolay had with Benny at the start of the roadie. I’ve become like Pavlov’s dog when it comes to showers.

The bathroom has become the only real place for privacy. Of course, now that we’re home for a solid week we each have our rooms, but it seems my body got used to jacking off in the shower very quickly.

I imagine what it would be like to sink into him, looming over him while we’re in bed, his kisses driving me to the brink, and when I know I’m about to come, the image of him thrusting into me comes into my mind.

If the way the orgasm has my body bursting with heatand my arms twitching is any indication, my psyche is excited about the prospect of having a dick in my ass.

Though, since I’ve seen Nikolay naked—because sometimes you can’t avoid it in the locker room or the showers at an arena no matter how hard you try to look away—I doubt my first timereceivinganal would be exactly comfortable with him... And if it turns out he’s a grower as well as a shower then I might be fucked.

Literally and metaphorically.

I don’t think I’d want anyone else, though, considering I’ve never been attracted to a man before, and I haven’t thought about anyone else—man or woman—in a sexual way since I first kissed him.

The panic, though, comes right back with a vengeance as soon as I’m out of the shower and the bliss from the orgasm fades. It has me springing into action again, but this time to get some clothes on. Once I’m dressed, I haul ass to Michelle and Kelly’s house.

I don’t feel like this is a conversation I can have with Uncle Enzo—talking about kissing a man with him was fine, but talking about having sexwith anyoneis out of the question.

I could technically talk to Finn about it, but he still thinks I’m suffering over Nikolay’s animosity because I haven’t had the time—okay, I haven’t taken the time—to catch him up.

In his straightforward way, I bet he’d be great about it. He’d make sure it wouldn’t be too awkward, but I’ve got adeep sense of dread and urgency spurring my movements, not logic, so off to my neighbors’ house I go.

“Hey Charlie,” Kelly says brightly as soon as their front door is open. “You guys wereah-mazing against Detroit,” she cheers with a little cry, but when she gets a good look at me, her face falls and her hand goes to her chest dramatically. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I need help.”

“Okay, sweetie, come in, come in.” She pulls me by the arms and drags me to the kitchen. “Sit. Let me just make you a hot cocoa, and you can tell me all about it.”

“What’s up?” Michelle asks as soon as she comes in.

“Charlie’s freaking out about something,” Kelly says in a soothing tone, as if she were scared of spooking me.

Michelle, in her own way, turns sharply toward me, her eyes boring into me and... searching. She walks over determinedly and pushes me to sit at their dining table, then takes the chair next to mine.

“What happened?” she asks, with a seriousness that betrays the fact that she’s ready to take any issue into her own hands. My body deflates then, and I pat her hand in thanks.

“No one did anythingtome,” I assure her. Her only response is narrowed eyes. “I promise,” I say like a vow, then let out a sigh and sit back. “I need help—fuck, advice. I don’t know, I just need?—”

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