Page 9 of Bad Pucking Roommate

Seems fitting.I click download.

Chapter four

Justus

Up until today I was pretty sure I didn’t watch Luca in a creepy way, but sitting in the hotel I can’t shake the image of him on the plane earlier—the uncharacteristically stoic image—which is something I wouldn’t have noticed if my observations were strictly limited to what he does on the ice.

That realization is a little unsettling, and I’m not sure what it says about me. I may have idolized the guy growing up, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man, playing on the same team for God’s sake, and in addition to being teammates I think we’re friends. So, while some knowledge of his habits is probably reasonable, I’m not sure I should know them well enough to realize that instead of moving his head to the beat of whatever song he was listening to on the plane, he was as still as a statue.

Luca has been so good to me since I joined the team. Not only has he spent countless hours working with me to improve my game, just the two of us, he includes me in what he does outside the rink. Mostly that’s just hanging out with our teammates, Noah and Niko, and theirpartners, but he makes the effort. Unprompted by anyone else, as far as I know.

I was friendly with Niko from day one, and if he hadn’t been enamored with his new boyfriend last season, I’m sure we’d have hung out a bit outside the rink without Luca’s influence. But more often than not it’s Luca, not Niko, who extends the invitation. And while I’ve been spending enough time with Luca to know him on a more personal level, I doubt that justifies my being able to spot subtle changes in his demeanor, and I doubt he’d appreciate knowing I can.

Guys like their privacy. Especially when professional athletes have so little of it. We share locker rooms, hotel rooms, showers… All that time together creates a deeper bond between us, which is a benefit on the ice, but it also makes us crave a little bit of space. Especially in the downtime between games when we're off it.

It's impossible to give each other physical space while we’re traveling, but we can get mental space. We can sleep or plug into our earbuds, and when we do, it’s sort of assumed we’ll be left alone. That we’re all focused on ourselves, doing our own thing. As I’m now realizing, it turns out my focus has been on Luca.

While I don’t want to call attention to the fact I’ve been watching him more than I should, I feel like I’d be a bad teammate if I don’t check in on him. Once we’re landed and in our room, that’s exactly what I do, praying he doesn’t see me as a stalker.

After telling Niko I’ve got to stop by Luca’s before I can turn in for the night, which conveniently gives him some alone time to talk to his boyfriend, he doesn’t even bother asking why I need to see Luca. He just waves goodbye.

As I walk down the hall, I practice what I’ll say when he opens the door.Hey, you seemed quiet earlier, are you feeling okay?I quickly discard that because, A-it implies I was watching him, and B-it implies he’s not feeling well.Hey, I need a place to hang out while Niko talks toXander.

Yeah, that seems believable.

I barely finish knocking before the door is yanked open, and I catch Luca’s face morphing from relieved to confused. “Justus? What are you doing here?”

“You seemed… I need to give Niko some time to talk to Xander so I thought maybe I could hang out here for a bit.”

He checks his watch, pursing his lips together as he lets out a slow exhale, then steps back to let me in. “Yeah. Okay.”

I know he wasn’t expecting me, but this is an even colder reception than I anticipated. “You sure? I could, uh, head to the lobby.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Come on in.”

Though most of us have rooms with two queens since we share, with Noah being out it looks like Luca was upgraded to a king. Other than that, his room is virtually identical to mine, and since there isn’t an unoccupied bed to sit on, I grab the little desk chair and spin it to face the TV. He’s got Sportscenter on, which, predictably, is talking about Football. It gets the bulk of the coverage while we get little more than a tiny feed that scrolls along the bottom of the screen. Or at least that’s how it feels sometimes.

“Any news?” I ask, knowing I don’t need to clarify that I’m asking about what happened with other teams in the league. While most games are played on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, that’s not set in stone, so there are times when other teams play while we’re traveling.

“Nothing unexpected.”

In other words, no upsets.

Luca flops onto the bed, flipping through the channels—I presume—to find something about hockey.

“They still aren’t saying anything about Noah’s injury, right?” The team has been pretty tight-lipped about why he’s out because theydon’t want any opponents toaccidentallytarget his weak spot when he comes back. It still boggles my mind that some guys in the league would play so dirty—I’m a firm believer in earning your wins by playing clean—but I guess not everyone thinks that way.

“It’s still being referred to as unknown.”

“That’s good at least.”

We watch TV in silence for a good fifteen minutes or so, mainly since I can’t come up with a single reason to ask why he’s not acting like his usual self that won’t spook him or put him on the defensive, when there’s another knock on the door.

Luca’s eyes dart to me, and his whole body seems to go rigid, like he got caught doing something wrong. Then he glances at his watch again, muttering something I can’t make out under his breath.

“I’ll just… Gimme a second.” His movements are stiff as he lifts himself off the bed and makes his way to the door, and it hits me that the reason he’s being so cagey is he’s expecting whoever’s currently standing in the hall. I assume it’s a puck bunny—lots of guys have them—though usually they brag about it instead of looking sheepish like Luca does right now.

The guys like to joke that I’m too innocent, too nice, whatever, but that doesn’t mean they need to act differently around me or feel ashamed about what they’re into.

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