Page 34 of Scoring Position

He said it without thinking about it, and the implications only occurred to him afterward. Yes, hockey players often lived together… but was this a good idea forthem? When Nico already had trouble sometimes with how much he ached for Ryan to touch him? When he was already coming to rely on Ryan’s juvenile sense of humor to pick him up when he got down on himself?

It didn’t matter. He’d said it and he wasn’t going to take it back. Besides, they were adults. He could control himself. And as for the house, well, he liked having a garden and a garage to park in, but it was too much space for one person.

Ryan blinked, his mouth half open. “What?”

Nico shifted under the scrutiny, hoping Ryan hadn’t sensed Nico’s second thoughts, or the content of them. “I don’t like living alone. I was expecting to have Lucas as a roommate again, but….” He spread his hands. “Someonetraded him to Montreal. I have two guest rooms. It’s a quiet neighborhood.” He quirked his lips up. “No neon signs.”

Ryan wanted to say yes—Nico could tell. After days of dull exhaustion, his eyes held a spark of hope. But something was holding him back. “That’s—I mean, thank you, that’s really generous of you to offer, I just… I’m not sure I should accept.”

Part of Nico understood that North Americans did this sometimes—hedging before they said yes in case Nico had only asked out of politeness, and therefore giving him a chance to back out. A larger part of him thought they could learn a thing or two about being straightforward. “Why not?” Had he read this wrong? For once he didn’t think so. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

For a second, Ryan stared at him as though willing Nico to read his mind. Unfortunately this was not one of Nico’s talents. “Yeah, of course. Just—you don’t spend a lot of time on the internet, do you?”

Why would he do that? The internet was terrible. “No?”

Ryan snorted. “Okay, well, let me ask you this: What do you think people are going to think if the only two gay guys on the team move in together?”

“That we have a lot in common and it doesn’t make sense for you to get a place when your contract expires at the end of the season?” Nico answered with faux naïveté. “I don’t care if the internet thinks we’re dating. The media has said worse things about me.” His own father had said worse things to Nico’s face. “You’re not that bad.”

“Ha! Thanks, I guess.” Ryan smiled. “Okay. If you’re sure, then yeah. That would be great. But if I piss you off, you have to promise to kick me out and not try to bear it with a stiff upper lip or whatever.”

“That’s British people.” Besides, Ryan pissed him off all the time. Nico was used to it. He might even like it a little. “Go shower and you can follow me home.”

And that was the end of it. Nico didn’t have to live alone anymore, and Ryan stopped looking so exhausted after twenty-four hours in a quiet, detached house. Win-win—unlike their hockey team.

But Nico was starting to accept he couldn’t do it all himself.

RYAN DIDN’Tknow what he expected from moving into Nico’s spare bedroom. On many levels, it was a terrible idea.

If Rees asked, Ryan would point out that he was the one who wanted them to be friends. If anyone else asked, he was blaming his acquiescence on sleep deprivation.

At first he was so exhausted he truly only cared about the quiet. Nico lived in a nice middle-class neighborhood populated largely with retirees, which meant that not only was it quiet at night, it was quiet during the hours he took his pregame nap. Ryan’s bedroom was on the north side of the house, at the back. There wasn’t even a streetlight. Unless it was a cloudless, moonlit night, it was dark even with the curtains open.

The euphoria of a good night’s sleep covered all kinds of misgivings.

So naturally it all fell apart on day two. Ryan needed to get the last of his things from his apartment. After a sound night’s sleep, he innocently walked into Nico’s garage… and found Nico lying on his back on a dolly, smeared with oil, having just rolled out from under his car.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Ryan asked, trying not to notice the way Nico’s lats and biceps pulled at the thin white cotton of his shirt, or the dark smudge across his cheek.

Nico set aside a metal pan filled with something black and sludgy. “Changing the oil.”

God, obviously. “Uh. I didn’t know you knew how to do that.” It was cold in the garage. He could see Nico’s pebbled nipples.

Nico pushed himself to his feet and wiped his hands on a rag as he eyed the car with satisfaction. Ryan tried not to imagine Nico pinning him to the hood and failed miserably. “My grandfather had a garage in Berlin, and I used to watch him and my uncle work. I liked it.” He shrugged as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “I like to do basic maintenance myself if I can so I can make sure nothing looks wrong, you know?”

Ryan did not know. He wished he didn’t know that Nico did. “You’re one of a kind, Nico Kirschbaum,” he said. And then he beat a retreat to get the rest of his things from the hated apartment, which had neither peace and quiet nor live soft-core mechanic porn.

The upside of Nico being a car guy was that he actually liked to drive. Ryan hated it, and his horrible leased car. “So you know,” he said as they made their way to the rink a few days later, “if you do like it, you’re saving me the trouble.” He flicked his sunglasses down onto his nose.

Nico hit the blinker and turned right. “You’re so…. Youwouldwant me to play taxi driver for you.”

“Are you talking to me?” Ryan could not believe Nico handed him that one. “Areyoutalking tome?”

Nico shot him a look, but he was smiling. “You’re an idiot.”

In the arena parking lot, they ran into Yorkie, who stared at their joint arrival with bemusement. “You lose a bet, Kirschbaum?”

“Huh?” How Nico could manage to seem like a befuddled puppy when looking like the brooding teen heartthrob of the week, Ryan did not know.

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