Page 9 of Crossing Lines

“Medical school? Damn, that’s tough.” He looked me up and down, biting his lower lip. “I’m assuming you’ve got pretty good grades, eh?”

“I do.” I puffed out my chest. “All I’ve done the last fouryears is study and play hockey.” Unless it was a Friday or Saturday night and the guys were headed out to a bar.

He cocked his head, eyeing me. “Do you mind if I ask you about this squad thing? If you’re best friends with Archer, are you part of it?”

I widened my eyes. “Yes, I am.” Was he asking me if I was queer?

A wide smile broke out over his face. “That’s awesome, eh? You guys are one of the reasons I picked this job. I’m, uh, gay.” With a nod, he pressed his lips together. “I admire all of you for being out and owning your sexuality. It’s how change happens.”

My heart warmed. Not only was he hot as fuck, he was a nice guy and really cool. And I loved the way he talked. “Yeah, thanks. That’s why we worked so hard to all come here.”

“So, walk you out?” With a pivot, he stepped to his desk, grabbed his phone, and tucked it into his pocket, then slung a laptop bag over his shoulder.

I nodded. I was a lucky bastard tonight. I should stay late after practice more often.He’s a coach, Jonah. Off-limits.

As he reached the office door, he flicked off the lights from a switch on the wall and the room went dark. “After you.” He waved his arm.

“Okay.” I stepped down the hallway, and he caught up, strolling beside me. What was I supposed to say now? Awkward…

“What part of Minnesota are you from?” He glanced at me.

“Oh, the Twin Cities. I was born and raised there.” Raking my teeth over my lower lip, I snuck a peek at him. He had the slightest limp. Should I ask about it? No, but I could ask—“You played hockey, right?”

“I did.” His shoulders stiffened. “I played until I was eighteen. An injury took me out of the game.” Dipping his head, he shifted his bag on his shoulder. “It was my knee. Tore my ACL. Twice.” He pursed his lips.

“Shit, that’s terrible, man.” I held my hand up to touch hisshoulder, then dropped it. Not a good idea, but fuck, I wanted to what, hug him? “I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, it tore me up for a while, but I’m pretty happy coaching now.” He stopped at the glass doors to the outside, the sun setting over the parking lot and beyond the high-rises. “I’m happy to be here, Boehm.”

“Jonah, you can call me…Jonah.” I faced him, my heart pounding in my ears. Why did I have to say that? “We’re not on the ice.” Shit, I didn’t want him to go.

Cocking his head, he gave me a charming smile. “Okay, Jonah.” He swung the door open and stepped out, then held it for me.

I walked out, my chest tingling with nerves. I didn’t want to leave his side. I wanted to get to know him more. How could I do that? “You, uh, I’m guessing you don’t know many people around here yet, seeing as how you’ve just moved down.” I scratched my neck. Fuck, what was I about to do?

He freed the door and it closed, then he twisted his lips and eyed me. “Yeah, just the other coaches and this guy I…” Shaking his head, he scoffed. “Never mind.”

“Maybe we could get a drink sometime? I mean, you can’t be much older than me, and I could tell you about the area, you know, from a queer perspective.” My breath quickened and my palms grew sweaty. I was grasping at straws here. This was surely a terrible idea. But what the fuck?

With a lift of his brows and an open-mouthed grin, he stared at me for a beat. “I, uh, I don’t know. Let me think about that.” He slapped my shoulder. “I do want to get to know all of you, but it’s probably better in a team setting. Don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, my bad.”Fucking stupid, Jonah. I freed a stuttered chuckle. I’d never hung out and shot the shit over a drink with a coach in my life. There was a reason for that. Coach Gibson was being professional. I was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Okay, Iwasa schoolgirl with a crush.

“I’m probably older than you think.” He gazed off into theparking lot for a moment, then focused on me. “I’m twenty-eight. A lot of people assume I’m your age.” A sharp laugh erupted from him. “Hopefully, it’s based on how I look and not how I act.” He winked at me.

“No, it’s how you look.” I swayed on my feet, sweeping my gaze over him. And he looked pretty fucking delicious right now. “Anyway, I’ll let you go.” Before I lost my mind and pleaded with him to have a drink with me.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow at the game.” He took a step away from me and then turned around. “It was nice chatting with you. I…enjoy your company.” He bit the side of his lower lip, then strode off.

I muttered, “Holy shit.” What was that? He didn’t actually sayno. He said he’d think about it. Was there hope? I watched the sway of his perfect ass in his joggers as he walked down the steps to the parking lot. I was not going to tell a soul about this. There would be no end to the amount of teasing.

With a deep inhale, I made my way down the stairs and to my car.

After dinnerback at the house, everyone studied, some in their bedrooms and me and Myles at the dinette. Myles tapped a mechanical pencil to the side of his shoulder-length, blond hair while he read the screen on his laptop. “How’s the hamstring, Jonah?” His gaze rose to mine.

I looked up from my organic chemistry assignment. It wasn’t like I could focus on it anyway after my conversation with Coach Gibson. “It’s good. I spent some extra time on the rollers.” Which, if I had gone to have a drink with Gibson, what would I have told my teammates? Would I have lied to them about it?

He shut his laptop and leaned forward. “So, I heard some things about the new coach.”

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