Page 30 of Changes on Ice
Cross followed suit, glancing over at what passed for Rusty’s kitchen. “I suppose you’re super limited by the ECHL allowance.”
“Yeah, they cover a furnished room in an apartment. Otherwise, no one could afford to play for West Coast and big city teams.” Rusty eyed his living space. “Most of the guys room together, but I was the new gay guy when I got here, and I wasn’t sure any of them would want to room with me. Sharing an apartment is different from sharing a locker room, especially if one of us wanted to bring home a date. I was lucky to find this place.”
“Do you bring dates back here?”
Rusty figured that was really none of Cross’s business, but the answer was easy. “Nope. Haven’t so far. I went to their place, mostly, or, you know, public. My landlady’s elderly, the ceiling is thin, and I can get loud.” And he didn’t want meaningless guys in his first real personal space, but that sounded uncool to admit.
Cross nodded a few times, his brows scrunched like that bothered him for some reason. “Sure. Makes sense.” He seemed to shake himself and changed the subject. “What was the deal with Tyler? Has he been hanging around you, contacting you?”
“Unless you count the truck, that’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night in the bar. Although he has been texting, changing numbers when I block him.”
“What does he want?”
“To get together, I guess. He said heforgaveme for cheating with you. Tried to grab me. I told him to get lost, pointed out the cameras.” Rusty fixed his eyes on Cross. “Be honest. Did you pay for those?”
“Ah.” Cross looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sort of. Yeah. It’s a good thing to have, when there’s crowds mixing with players. Gives the arena a record of any kind of trouble.”
Rusty was torn between irritation and gratitude. Pointing out that camera to Tyler had been enormously satisfying, but he didn’t want Cross’s money buying him out of his problems. Especially not in an underhanded way like that. “Next time, ask me first. No, you know what? Let’s just not have a next time. I’m not going to tell the arena to take down the cameras. That would be fucking stupid. But I don’t need you solving my life for me with your money.”
“You called me the first time.”
“Yeah, okay, I did. But for ideas, right? As a friend. Not some kind of sugar daddy savior!”
Their eyes met. Rusty was breathing fast and he saw Cross’s chest rise and fall. Anger mixed with something very different, and Rusty stepped closer, into Cross’s personal space. Cross’s lips parted and his eyes widened. Rusty was in a reckless mood, so he reached out and laid a hand on Cross’s sweater over his heart. “Are we going to talk about this part?”
“What part?” The squeak at the end of that sentence betrayed Cross’s nerves.
Rusty liked thinking he wasn’t the only one off-balance. He lowered his hand but didn’t step back. “The part where I was fired up like an electric charge, knowing you were in the stands.”
“You played well—”
“The part where I really want to kiss you again. And maybe more.”
“Oh.” Cross licked his lips but didn’t lean closer. “Yeah, we should probably talk about that.”
Rusty waited but Cross didn’t seem to have anything to actually say, just shrugged, then looked down.
Rusty wasn’t sure where he was going with this either. He hadn’t ever dated someone he really liked. Tyler had been about sex and fun, not really liking him as a person. He wanted to date Cross, not just fuck him, or be fucked by him. But he knew he was this young, stupid, inexperienced, broke rookie, and Cross was Cross. And then there was Tyler, and his own recklessness about bringing someone like that into their lives. Except all of that didn’t make his dick any less optimistically hard.
Kiss me?Rusty couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth.
He sucked in a breath and dryness made him cough. Maybe time to take a step back. “Hey, I need some hydration and calories. Let me get you that water and some snacks.”
Cross unhunched his shoulders, seeming relieved. “Thanks.”
“Coming up.”
Sadly, living in a studio apartment meant there was no real kitchen for him to step into and catch his breath. Still, he could turn his back on Cross and reach into the refrigerator, the drift of chill air soothing on his face. He got out two waters and a Tupperwear of homemade hummus. Straightened. Made sure his face wasn’t doing anything weird. Turned. “Hey, can you put this on the coffee table? I’m gonna get some crackers.”
“Sure.” Cross took the bowl from him. “Did youmakethis?”
“Yeah. It’s super easy and a cheap protein for after-game snacking. Canned chickpeas are, like, a tenth the cost of buying the hummus itself.” Will had given him a blender at the end of his summer on the ranch, as a “good luck in Oregon” gift. Rusty had thought that choice was a bit odd, but now the blender was maybe the favorite household thing he owned. Hummus and smoothies with cheap whey protein and crap like that kept him from losing more muscle than necessary as the season wore on.
“I can cook a few things.” Cross carried the hummus and his water over to the couch and sat at one end, setting the bowl on the table. “Just basic stuff, though, like chicken breasts or burgers. I have a housekeeper who comes in and she cooks seven meals a week for me to meet my nutrition plan.”
Because of course the dude had a housekeeper. He’d probably never cleaned his own toilet in his entire life. Rusty shook his head, then carried a box of crackers and his water out to the couch. He wondered if he should’ve put the food on a plate, but fuck it, they were hockey players. They could pass the box back and forth.
A bunch of hummus crackers and most of the water later, Rusty felt more mellow. Probably some of his up and down mood had been hangry-related after the hard-fought game, although Tyler hadn’t helped.
