Page 2 of Bad Pucking Roommate

My jaw drops open. “We have a game tomorrow.”

“I like to unload beforehand.” Charlie lifts his shoulder like it’s no big deal. “So, you in?”

Chapter one

Luca

“When are you coming back?” I ask Noah, hoping my voice sounds curious instead of needy. While I’m sort of spiraling without him, the last thing I want is to make him feel guilty about being injured.

“The doctor says at least two more weeks, if I have full range of motion.”

“Dammit,” I mutter through an exhale.

“What’s wrong with that? It’s faster than originally projected, and we still have well over half the season left.”

“I need you back. I’m playing like shit.” I wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth, but it’s too late to take them back.So much for not making the guy feel guilty.

“You guys have two losses. That’s nothing we can’t recover from.” Noah tries to talk me down like the responsible, level-headed guy he is.Good for him.I’m glad someone isn’t losing their balls over this, because I certainly am.

“I’m not talking about the team, I’m talking about me. Everyone else is pulling their weight but I’m flailing out there. I need you back.I’m not myself…” I snap my mouth shut, but not before making his absence about me, exactly the way I told myself not to do.

“Luca, I’m not the key to your success. You’re still playing great. Just yesterday you scored two goals.”

“That was a home game. I have an arrangement for those. It’s the road games where I struggle. I need you to—”

“I’m not cleared to travel, Luc.”

“I know, but maybe we can work something out. I could video chat with you or something.”Jesus, could I sound any more desperate?

“Can we come up with another option? One that maybe doesn’t involveme?” The obvious plea has my stomach plummeting to the ground.

“One that…” I pause, considering the very real possibility that the guy my friend was exploring his sexuality with has become more than just an experiment. “Oh shit. This is because of Tripp, isn’t it? You’re not just fucking you’re…fucking.”

“I don’t understand the difference, but yeah. It’s because of Tripp. I don’t feel right being youraudiencewhile sleeping with him.”

Like it has virtually every day since Noah hurt his ankle, my mind wanders to that fateful day in high school. The one that preceded what was then the best game of my life, and which set me on this ridiculous path.

Not for the first time, I wish I’d walked out of Charlie’s room that night. If I had, the seed never would’ve been planted in my head thatunloadingwith Charlie and Jessie led to the greatest game of my life. And I damn sure wouldn’t have begged them to do it again—just to see if it worked—sealing the notion that sex with an audience was my good luck charm when I miraculously pulled off another hat trickduring the next game.

I’d say I’m cursed—of all the pregame rituals out there, mine is by far the most ludicrous and hard to maintain—yet I can’t argue with the results. I suppose I’ve been lucky to get this far in my career while holding tight to that superstition, which Noah graciously enabled for the past several years during our road games, hence my current state of panic.

Finding what I need on the road has always been a unique challenge. Fortunately for me, puck bunnies are everywhere, although you have to be careful about which ones you pick. Some want a good time and others want you to be the fairytale prince who sweeps them away. Over the years I’ve gotten pretty good at scoping out which is which, and the longer I played, I found some I can trust to call up in a pinch. I’d bring them back to the hotel, where I shared a room with Noah, get down to business and play my ass off the next day.

True, superstitions aren’t foolproof, and there have been games where I didn’t do well despite going through all mypreparationsthe night before. Generally speaking though, I tend to do better if I go through the same routine, which all started when a player I looked up to asked me to be part of a similar ritual for him.

For two years, that’s how I got ready for every game, and I did so well I got drafted to the NHL during my senior year since I was old enough to be eligible. That meant I had to get a GED since I couldn’t graduate with my class, and to this day I let people believe my mediocre rookie year was due to getting plunked into the spotlight and having to perform while trying to juggle my studies. But I suspect it had more to do with the inability to prep for a game the way I’d gotten used to.

I’m well aware of how insane that sounds. Completely mental. I’d call bullshit on myself if I hadn’t lived through it. But when Charlie and Jessie came to visit me toward the end of my first season and I onceagain had the game of a lifetime… It reinstated my belief that being watched is my golden ticket.

I’d give anything to have a pair of lucky socks. Or a shirt that I don’t wash all season. Hell, I’d even settle for some alone time in the shower, which isn’t exactly an uncommon way for guys to burn off some stress before a game. Or after a game. Or for any reason at all really. Unfortunately, the thing that seems to do the trick for me is having an audience.

As luck would have it, Charlie and Jessie—still together—moved to Denver not long after I did. They have the same kink they did back in high school, and since they helped get me into this mess, they help me with it before home games. On the road, Noah fills that role.

Unlike Charlie, he doesn’t give instructions. He just sits quietly and lets me do my thing. He’s never asked why or made me feel awkward about what I need to do, he just obliges since he knows it’s important to me. Hell, as a last resort, if I couldn’t find a puck bunny, he’d even watch me take care of myself. Teammates do all sorts of things for each other, but what he’s done for me is above and beyond what I had any right to expect. Still, I have come to expect it. To rely on it. But he’s clearly reached his limit.

I knew this day would come, although I thought it would be Noah’s retirement—not a relationship—that brought us to this point. I thought I’d have a few more years before I’d have to face the prospect of enlisting someone else to help mepreparefor games, and the thought of having to do it now is nothing short of terrifying.

It’s not fair of me to put those fears on Noah, though. Not after all he’s done for me. I need to support him in this, the way he’s supported me for years.

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