Page 24 of The Official Problem
Before Kieran could react, Matthieu slammed both hands into his chest and shoved him back with surprising force. Kieran hit the ice hard. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, pain shooting up his arms as his palms hit ice to break the fall.
He braced for Matthieu to crash down on him like he had in March, for a fist to follow, but Matthieu was already skating away, head hung low. The lineman placed a hand on his back, murmuring something Kieran couldn’t hear.
“You hurt anything?” the other ref asked, standing in the face-off zone, watching him.
“Just my ego,” Kieran muttered, pushing himself up with a wince. His palms stung, but the sting in his chest was worse.
“I don’t know why you two don’t leave each other the fuck alone. You’ll get the man fired if you keep getting in his face like that,” the ref barked. “Now, can we please get this game started?”
Kieran nodded, took his position, and made himself look anywhere but at Matthieu for the rest of the period.
Club music thrummed through Kieran’s veins, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm. Vodka buzzed in his bloodstream,leaving him slightly floaty. Ivan hadn’t needed to do much persuading to get Kieran to join him and Jasper after the game.
Since the season started, Kieran hadn’t put much effort into being social and even less into exploring the hook-up scene. It had been too long. The need to fall into bed with someone—or hell, a bathroom stall would do—itched at him. He needed to scratch it if he had any hope of forgetting a certain dark-haired man taking up far too much mental space.
However, since arriving an hour ago, he’d barely left Ivan’s side, just stood at the bar while his old friend contributed little to the conversation. Jasper had disappeared to the dance floor ages ago, with Ivan showing no interest in following. It didn’t take long for another man to approach Jasper, slipping behind him to grind against his ass. Kieran was sure Jasper would step away, but instead he tossed a sexy smile over his shoulder, looped an arm around the guy’s neck, and started grinding back.
Kieran glanced at Ivan, expecting to find jealousy. All he saw was burning lust. Ivan’s gaze was locked on Jasper, tracking every place his lithe body pressed against the stranger. Was Ivan turned on?
“That doesn’t bother you?” Kieran asked, raising a brow at his friend.
Ivan shook his head and let out a low growl—animalistic in a way Kieran couldn’t quite define. Well, that was an interesting development. Kieran suddenly felt like a third—maybe fourth—wheel.
“Wait.” Something about the man dancing with Jasper felt familiar. Kieran was almost sure he’d seen him before. “Is that the lineman from tonight’s game?”
Ivan’s brows shot up, but the concern that flicked across his face vanished just as quickly. “Shit, I think you’re right.” Ivan chuckled, shaking his head again. “Your friend probably around here somewhere, too.”
It took Kieran less than a minute to find him. Across the dance floor, Matthieu stood off to the side, eyes locked on his phone, his expression tight with distress. Kieran wondered if whatever he was reading had anything to do with how distracted he’d been all night. Matthieu’s whole demeanor had been off—uncharacteristic, at best.
Kieran shouldn’t even know what was or wasn’t characteristic of Matthieu Bouchard, not anymore at least. Since Matthieu had re-entered his life, Kieran had spent way too many minutes—scratch that, hours—obsessing over the man he used to know so well. He’d even watched replays of games Matthieu officiated last year, admiring his style and swelling with pride at how confidently he commanded the ice. Matthieu had always been meticulous, yet that version of him hadn’t shown up tonight.
Before he could stop himself, Kieran was striding away from Ivan, murmuring, “Good luck with that,” as he passed.
Jasper was now making out with the mystery lineman, his wedding ring catching the club lights as he gripped the man’s face. Ivan seemed oddly pleased with the development.
Matthieu looked up from his phone when Kieran stopped in front of him. “What do you want?” His deep, scratchy voice sent a ripple of memory through Kieran.
Nice to see you, too.
“Just checking in. My offer still stands.”
Matthieu looked him up and down, cataloging every detail, comparing the man before him to the boy he used to know. Kieran sensed Matthieu didn’t like what he saw.
“I’m fine.” They both knew it was a lie.
“We can go somewhere…”
“Kieran,” he almost broke hearing his name on Matthieu’s lips again, “drop it. Please. I can’t do this tonight. Not withyou.” Matthieu’s sharp tone had softened into something almost pleading.
Fine. Kieran saw how it was going to be. Matthieu had always kept things guarded, just never with him. It seemed the last ten years had only strengthened the walls Matthieu built around himself. Kieran would have to try another way. Before he could speak, Matthieu turned on his heels and walked away.
Kieran knew he should let him go, knew he had no right to follow. Still, it didn’t stop him from wanting, desperately, to make things better.
Fuck that.
If Matthieu wanted to be moody and hostile, so be it. The more Kieran pushed Matthieu into a corner, the worse things would get between them.
He was in New York City, goddamnit. At one of the top gay clubs. Surrounded by hundreds of gorgeous men. Any one of them would be willing to scratch the itch curling in Kieran’s gut. None would make him work as hard as Matthieu did for a single conversation.
