Page 22 of Changes on Ice

“It’s not the same, but it’s really cool. And not cold.” Rusty grinned. “Now what?”

“Grab your stick, and I’ll get some pucks. We’re going to start with a rush— well, a very short rush— down the ice, with you on your backhand, and pass to me. Let me see in person what you’re doing. But take the puck down the ice yourself a couple of times first. Get a feel.”

They both pushed off from one end of the surface. The ice length was enough for six or seven full strides before they had to stop or turn, and Rusty grinned at Cross after the first rush. The puck didn’t glide quite the same either, but well enough to stickhandle, and despite Cross’s speed, Rusty didn’t get smoked. At least, not over that short distance.

“Right.” Cross stopped at the end after three rushes and gestured. “Swap sides and try that pass.”

They made a couple of runs before Cross said, “Okay. That’s what I was seeing on video. You have your blade at too shallow an angle. You’re not cupping over the puck enough, and that’s making the pass harder to control.” He tossed his gloves aside and moved up behind Rusty. “Here, let me show you.”

Rusty held his breath as Cross’s compact body plastered against his back. Cross reached around to adjust Rusty’s grip on the stick with each hand, guiding him to nudge at the puck. “Like this. Lower this hand a couple inches and roll the blade a little more.”

There’s nothing sexual about this. He doesn’t mean anything by it.Rusty’s dick wasn’t listening to his brain. He should’ve worn a cup. Should’ve worn looser sweatpants. Cross’s breathfeathered across Rusty’s neck and his hip bumped Rusty’s ass.Fuck.

He tried to pay attention and do as he was told.

Cross stepped away.Thank God.“Let’s try that again.”

They ran through the passing play a few more times, and Cross said, “Try going all the way down, we’ll swap sides around the end for speed, and pass to me on the way back.”

That maneuver gave them a faster pattern but Rusty screwed up the pass the first time. Cross had to kick it to his stick with a skate. “Sorry.” Rusty plowed to a stop. “Again?”

“Yep.”

The second time, the pass looked good to him, but Cross stopped and beckoned. “Close but not quite.” He dropped his stick and gloves. “Come here. Let me show you better.”

Please not.But Rusty had no reason to refuse so he skated over and assumed the position in front of Cross.Hip against my ass, thigh to thigh, hands on my arms. Fuck.He imagined what he’d like to have Cross do in this position.Is he hard too?Rusty couldn’t tell.

But in the middle of a sentence Cross stopped talking and froze. Rusty looked back over his shoulder. Cross met his eyes, pupils dilated, and then he licked his lips. His gaze dropped to Rusty’s mouth and back up. Cross’s lips were right there, level with Rusty’s as they bent in their stance.

Don’t do it! You’re going to fuck everything up. Think!Rusty’s body went on a thinking-strike, though, as he turned, leaned forward, and found Cross’s mouth with his own.

Rusty hadn’t kissed a lot of guys— his hookups hadn’t usually included much kissing, and Tyler hadn’t liked it— but he thought Cross was into what they were doing. Cross tilted his head so they fit together better and threaded his hand into Rusty’s hair, holding him in place. Cross’s lips parted and their tongues met, hot and eager.

Then Cross jolted, let go of him, and made a sudden backward movement that landed him on his ass on the fake ice, staring up at Rusty.

They both said, “Sorry!” at the same time.

Rusty narrowed his eyes. “What’re you sorry for? I kissed you, and you’re the one with bruises from hitting the floor.”

“That’s okay. Not your fault. I forgot I was on skates.”

“Youareinto men, right?” Rusty felt a sudden panic. “I didn’t, like, come on to a straight guy?”

“I’m not straight. I kissed you back. I probably invited it. That’s very unprofessional of me.”

“What profession are we talking about here?” Rusty crossed his arms, trying to suppress his embarrassment, his gloves bulky and in the way. All of him felt too big and in the way.

“I’m your mentor. I’m twice your age—”

“No, you’re not. I’m not fifteen. Thank God, or this reallywouldbe inappropriate.” He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant becauseway to make things even more awkward,then met Cross’s gaze. “I’m a grown man with a full-time job. Maybe I haven’t fucked as many people as you have—” For some reason, that made Cross look away and flush. Maybe he’d had a man-whore phase. “—but I’m not even close to a virgin. As you know. You’re not my coach and you’re not my captain. If you’re not intome you can say so. I don’t need to be let down gently with this‘it’s unprofessional’bullshit.”

“Sorry. I…” Cross made no effort to get up. “Iaminto you, in a way.”

In a way.Well, fuck, that hit Rusty under the ribs.Don’t get enthusiastic or anything.

Cross continued, “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re nineteen and I’m thirty. You’re just starting out and I’m… this.” He waved at the indoor rink and the mansion above it.

“You don’t want people to think you’re slumming it with some broke kid from the ECHL?” Rusty knew he wasn’t in Cross’s league, physically, professionally, monetarily. Fuck if he needed his nose rubbed in it.

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