Page 12 of One Touch

“Don’t touch me.” Lathan stood over me and glared. His body shook, and shame filled me. I’d done that. I’d crossed a line and made him uncomfortable.

Though, that didn’t feel true if what I felt before he shoved me was real. He’d been hard. I’d felt his erection against my thigh. It had been enough to halt the anger and allow him to respond.

Gulping, I cupped my wrist as I stood. His eyes latched on to it, but he didn’t comment as he straightened his clothes and returned to the ice-cold version of himself.

“We can both agree things went too far, and I’m willing to forget this ever happened if you are.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to put everything tumbling in my brain into words.

No, I can’t forget the way my body felt against yours. Or the way your dick imprint will forever be ingrained on my thigh. Do you really not feel the chemistry between us? Why do you hate me?

So, instead, I stayed quiet. It seemed like the safer bet.

“Right. I expect you to arrive within the hour. I follow a strict routine, and I won’t accept any deviation. I’ll leave your name with the concierge, and he’ll give you your own code. I’ll have a list of rules to follow waiting in your room. If there’s anything else you need, the concierge can help you with it.”

He glanced at my wrist again before spinning on his heels and walking away. He was deluded if he believed I’d stay with him after that. I’d rather deal with loud neighbors or Toby than him. Staying with Toby looked like the best option, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it with how we met.

My first weekend in Austin, I’d matched with Toby on Tinder, and we met up for dinner. It was going great until we both realized we worked for the Aces. While I didn’t know if my contract had a clause about dating Aces’ employees, there was in his, and neither of us wanted to go through the hassle of dealing with HR for a first date. So we decided to be friends instead.

Honestly, that was probably a better option anyway. I needed a friend, and despite my desire to date, I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to give to it right now. Learning a whole new city, team, and playbook was taking its toll, and I rarely had time to touch myowndick. Adding someone else into the equation wasn’t feasible.

It had nothing to do with my body lighting up like a live wire every time a particular hockey player was near. Nothing at all. That was an even worse idea than dating an employee. Not that Lathan was interested or even gay. Regardless of his sexual orientation, he wasn’t someone I could ever fathom dating.

No, my time was better spent getting acquainted with the team—even if that meant my dick saw no action.

Sighing, I spun in the opposite direction and headed to the trainer’s room. As soon as I turned the corner, other people came into view. I hadn’t believed Toby that the location was rarely used and a good place to talk, but no one else had stumbled upon us. Something I was grateful for. Lathan and I didn’t need rumors that we were fighting off the ice.

After a weak reason for my injury, my wrist was wrapped, and I was given orders to ice and elevate it when I got home. It was a slight sprain and shouldn’t affect my playing in the next game, but they wanted to be cautious. Thankfully, it was my right wrist, and I shot left.

Walking to my car, I ignored the text message on my phone with Lathan’s address and returned to the rental the apartment building had put me in. The neighbors were already fighting when I stepped in my door, and I prepared myself for another long night.

* * *

Lathan sent two more text messages that I also ignored that night. The following day, he sent three more that went unread. I spent my day off volunteering at the local LGBTQ+ youth organization—Rainbow Lounge. They were having a party for teens who didn’t have a safe place to go and needed chaperones. While I didn’t have the same experience of not having an accepting household when I came out, I’d experienced discrimination in the league since I’d announced my sexual orientation.

It wasn’t something people talked about, but it happened. Luckily, a solid group of people accepted and supported me. I knew I was fortunate, so I wanted to pay it forward and hopefully be that person for someone else. It had been a good night, and I’d signed up for a few more events in the upcoming months that worked with our schedule.

I was riding this high when I boarded the team plane the following day. My pocket was full of new bracelets I’d made with the help of new friends—Ace and Wade. They didn’t say it, but seeing a big hockey player making jewelry had eased some of their fears about me. I knew from the outside I didn’t “look” gay, not that a person’s sexual orientation was something you could see outwardly. But it didn’t stop people from making assumptions.

“New bracelets, courtesy of some new friends of mine,” I said as I passed them out.

“Thanks, Miller Time!” several guys said. I nodded, trying to hide my grimace at the nickname. I should be happy they were embracing me instead of hating that blasted phrase.

I had nothing against the beer company, but it reminded me of how people saw me on the ice. It wasn’t who I was most of the time, so it felt disingenuous whenever someone said it. Another thing I had to pretend to be, and I was tired of pretending. It was why I’d come out despite everyone telling me not to. It was exhausting hiding who you really were, and I’d rather deal with the hate head-on and focus my energy on hockey.

Bell nodded to the empty seat next to him, and I smiled in relief. It was such a small thing, but having someone save you a seat filled me with warmth. It was no wonder acts of service were my love language.

I took two steps when a hand shot out and clamped down onto my wrist—my sprained one. I was tugged into the empty seat before I could protest. A shout of pain escaped me, and I slammed my lips together to hold it in.

“What the fuck?” a deep voice demanded. “What’s wrong with your wrist? I barely touched you.”

“Barely touched” was a stretch, but I wouldn’t have reacted as dramatically in a normal circumstance.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your business.”

Lathan came across the seat until our noses practically touched. “If you’re injured and hiding it, it is my business.” He seethed. His blue eyes swirled with so many emotions it was hard to pinpoint which ones.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t push people,” I shot back and stood. I wouldn’t let him rile me up.

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