Overtime Goal: An MM Age Gap Bi-Awakening Hockey Romance (Buffalo Warriors Hockey Book 4), page 3
“I remember.”
“Luca couldn’t make me talk any more than you can Logan, but there’s an important difference. Logan’s older and smarter than I was, and I don’t think he’ll go to the extremes I did to avoid a conversation. If he tries to avoid talking again, don’t let him.”
“How? He told me no.”
Harpy laughed. “Since when do you listen to what anybody tells you? Look, I don’t know exactly what happened, but you two are still friends. You can fix this, but since you’re the one who said it was off limits, you’ll have to be persistent about opening it back up.”
“Fuck. I guess you’re right.”
He nodded, and we both sipped our beers.
“Don’t wait,” he said. “Take care of this before it becomes a major obstacle between you two.”
“I won’t. It may take me a day or two to decide how to approach it, but I’ll get it done.”
I turned down Harpy’s invitation to lunch and headed home to think about things. After a walk around the neighborhood, I had a plan, or at least the beginnings of one. Before anything else, I had to fix the distance between Logan and me, and I could start on that tonight.
The first thing I had to do was make sure he wouldn’t cancel. I pulled out my phone and started typing, then erased what I’d said. It took three tries before I pressed send.
RILEY: Thought I’d come over about 8. We can watch TV like you said. Or I can watch TV while you read lol.
Since he hadn’t mentioned dinner in his invite, I didn’t either. I wondered if he’d make me wait for a reply, but his answer came a minute later.
LOGAN: Sounds good. See you at 8.
4/
logan
The clock read 7:32 as I ran through the house. Leave it to Riley to show up early. I had nothing on except a towel, but fuck it, he’d seen me wearing less. When I opened the door, I said, “You’re early.”
He widened his eyes. “Being early’s a virtue. I can wait out here until eight if you want me to.”
I sighed, unable to hide a smile as I let him in. Once the door closed, we moved in for our usual hug, but Riley paused and held out a fist.
“Really? A fist bump?”
“It’s either this or an awkward handshake. I don’t hug wet dogs.”
As we laughed and tapped fists, water was dripping all over the floor. “I need to get dressed, so make yourself at home.”
“Thanks. You want snacks?”
“Go for it.” I headed to my room. It was good to see him, and I was sorry I’d been so hesitant. We’d been friends too long for things to be so weird.
I tugged on jeans and a sweater, made a halfhearted attempt at taming my hair, and gave up. Walking back to the TV room, I burst out laughing. Riley was already curled into what had basically become his side of the sectional, surrounded by what looked like half the food in the house. His lips were already stained neon orange from cheese puffs, and for an instant, I had the crazy idea he’d gone a round with a paintball gun.
“Didn’t you eat dinner?” I asked.
“You know how I feel about snack foods.”
I dropped onto my usual side of the sectional and stared at the buffet he’d put together. “That’s enough to feed the whole team.”
“What can I say?” He gave me a crooked grin. “I panic-grabbed. It’s a thing.”
I sighed, biting back another laugh. “Give me those chips.”
He handed me the Doritos and picked up the remote. “TV?”
“Sure.” This was our usual routine, so no problems so far. While he scrolled through options before landing on a sci-fi movie he’d been talking about, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. His brown hair had flopped over his eyes, and my chest warmed as I studied his face. It was heart-shaped with high cheekbones, full lips, and bright green eyes that gave away more than he probably wanted. Sometimes, when he turned them on me, it was like stepping into the sun on a chilly day.
When my thoughts turned to his body, I started a book about a spy who, by page three, had gone from predator to prey. Trying to read was no use, though, thanks to Riley’s regular interruptions.
“Do you know who Jeremy Keever is?”
“Nope.” I looked up from page six. “Should I?”
He pointed at the TV. “Check him out, the chrononaut. I googled him, and this is his first movie. Doesn’t he look exactly like Brody must have at fifteen?”
“That guy’s not fifteen.”
“Wikipedia says he’s twenty-three, but I’m calling bullshit. He looks like a middle school kid with a gym membership.”
“He looks twenty-three,” I said. “And sexy as hell.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Riley shot me a look and went quiet. I made it to page eight before the questions started again, and this time, he kept them coming.
“How much do you know about time travel?” he asked.
I snorted. “Not much, considering it doesn’t exist.”
He rolled his eyes. “I mean in science fiction.”
“Still not much. Not my genre.”
He hit me with questions about temporal paradoxes, tachyons, and wormholes. My answers were mostly nonsense, and he made a big show of judging each one. After I told him all I knew about the grandfather paradox, he gave such a dramatic eye roll it probably counted as a neck stretch.
I sighed. “Why are you asking if you already know this stuff?”
“I don’t know it.” He nudged my knee with his foot. “But I can smell bullshit from a mile away.”
“Fuck off.”
“Eat shit.” He grinned and turned back to the screen.
Reading continued to be a lost cause. I spent more time pretending to be annoyed by the interruptions than looking at the pages, especially since Riley kept glancing my way. At one point, I threw a little pillow at him; he caught it and tossed it back. I’d been half-listening to the movie for a while, and by the time the chrononaut took his fifth pointless jump, I gave up and set the e-reader aside.
“All right.” I scooted over beside Riles to steal some cheese puffs. “Explain why this guy keeps bouncing around through time, wrecking everything he touches. And don’t skip the dumb details.”
A grin spread across Riley’s face. “It’s the butterfly effect. Ever heard of it?”
“Yes, but how does it fit in here?”
He explained enough to bring me up to speed, and we watched it together. Gradually, he got more comfortable as he shed his hoodie, kicked off his shoes, and pulled the throw from the back of the sectional to wrap around himself.
“Why don’t you make yourself at home?” I asked.
“Thought I already had.” His expression was a mix of mischief and happiness.
I shook my head, making sure he saw it, but I was so content I wanted to purr. Except for Riles, most of my visitors were teammates stopping by. We had fun, but that’s all it was. Riley was different because he made everything feel better.
Halfway through the movie, he shifted until he was sprawling sideways on the sectional. When his feet landed on my legs, right in front of my crotch, I froze. He glanced over and gasped when he saw how close his ankles were to my dick.
He yanked his feet back. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. I was just stretching out.”
“No problem.” I reached for his legs and settled his feet on my thighs. “I can handle your weird feet.”
He scoffed. “What the hell? My feet are elegant. Many women have said so.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. These were women who were chasing you, not the other way around.”
“Just for that, I’m taking my feet back.”
He tried to pull them away, but I grabbed his ankles. “Don’t even think about it. You stole the blanket, and your feet are warm. I need all the help I can get.”
Things were quiet for about a second before he started chuckling. It was soft at first, then grew into a full-blown laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“You need all the help you can get, huh? Don’t you have an app to find guys for that?”
My cheeks were suddenly very hot. “Fuck off. You know that’s not what I meant. Is your mind always in the gutter?”
He snorted. “Thought that was already well established. And I’m not the one with pictures of naked men in my bathroom.”
“Those are art prints. The pictures were taken by some of the best photographers in the world.”
“So you say.”
I backhanded his foot. “The closest you come to art prints is pulling up Pornhub on your phone.”
“You watch Pornhub too.” He gave me the side-eye. “Last time I used your laptop, you hadn’t even closed the tab.”
“Bullshit.” He was probably right, not that I’d admit it.
“Want to see the picture I took as evidence? It’s on my phone.”
He wouldn’t have taken a picture, would he? “Fuck you.”
The chirping continued as the movie wound down. It made us laugh, easing away the awkwardness of the last couple of days. When the movie ended, we turned off the TV and took the leftover snacks back to the kitchen.
We were at the counter drinking water when Riley’s eyes changed. Now they had a flat, weary look. Tiredness was probably part of it, but I suspected he was worried about having more of the nightmares that had bothered him for months. I met his gaze. “You staying?”
He hesitated before answering. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to.”
“The guest room’s always available to you.”
He glanced away, as if he didn’t want me seeing his relief. “Thanks, Logan.”
We paused in the hall outside the bedrooms, mine to the right and the guest room directly opposite. “Let me know if you need anything,” I said. “Hope you sleep well.”
“You too.”
He licked his lips, and the flash of pink tongue kicked my pulse up a notch. I took a deep breath. “Glad you came over.”
“I had a great time.”
I nodded. “Same. Good night.”
Our eyes locked, and neither of us moved until a clock chimed in the front of the house. I turned and went into my room, closing the door behind me. After washing up, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It had been one of the best evenings I’d had in a long time. I needed to stop pretending I didn’t want more than this, but what good would it do? I was gay, and Riley was straight. He might freak out again if I told him how I felt, and then I’d be more alone than ever. My stomach clenched as I reminded myself we would never want the same things.
5/
riley
A crack in the blinds always let in enough sunlight to wake me at dawn, whether I was here to hide from nightmares, hangovers, or disappointed women. You’d think somebody who earned as much as Logan did could afford to have his blinds fixed. But without a reason to sleep in the guest room, he probably didn’t know there was a problem. I’d tell him at breakfast.
I rolled onto my side and thought about the evening we’d spent together. It had been exactly what I needed. I could never relax at home the way I did at Logan’s, and I was glad he didn’t seem mad at me despite the awkwardness I’d caused in Dallas.
“Do you ever think about that night in LA?” I’d asked, as if it would be that easy to get him to open up.
Why the fuck did I want to talk about it anyway? I knew I’d hurt him, but I’d hoped we could get past it. If we cleared the air, maybe I could go back to normal life: drinking too much and screwing women. Logan and I could go back to being best friends, and I could stop thinking about him every minute of the day. Unfortunately, this hadn’t been as easy as it should have been.
We seemed to be on the right path, at least. Last night had proved we were still best friends, hadn’t it? We’d slipped into our familiar routine with no problem. He certainly wouldn’t have let Holky or Gabe put their feet in his lap, and I for goddamn sure wouldn’t have put my feet in theirs. Even that crazy movie had been fun. Logan wasn’t usually into sci-fi, but I knew he’d watched it for us, to help us find our way back. Hearing him laugh had meant everything.
Since we were doing better, maybe I should leave what happened in California alone so we could move on. Talking about it wouldn’t change what happened, and it wasn’t like a heart-to-heart would turn us into boyfriends. I was straight, and Logan was gay. Nature had made us like that, and he’d probably been as surprised as I was by what happened in LA. If only I hadn’t panicked and said those hurtful things, we’d probably be over it already.
If he was willing to let it go, why shouldn’t I? Not everything has to be talked about and analyzed to death, and if I forced this, it might end us as friends.
The solution was obvious. Find a woman and get back in the saddle. Soon. I turned over and tried to fall back asleep, but it was no use. Memories of LA pulled me in.
It had been a wonderful day. We went for a run early in the morning, and since neither of us was in the mood for golf with the boys, we snuck away and went to Universal Studios. The tour took us down memory lane from an insider’s perspective. Afterward, we oohed and aahed our way through the shows, fan-boyed in Super Nintendo World, and laughed and screamed while enjoying some of the rides. Jurassic World–The Ride would never be the same.
It was getting dark by the time we left, and Logan suggested Santa Monica for dinner and a beach walk. After stuffing ourselves with seafood and pasta, we grabbed the hoodies we’d tossed in the car and headed for the sand. Moonlight cast a soft glow across the calm water. There weren’t many people on the beach, and it almost seemed like we’d called ahead to reserve it for ourselves.
We didn’t say much while we walked, but the silence wasn’t awkward at all. I snuck glances at Logan, wondering if he could hear the noise in my mind. My stomach had fluttered throughout dinner as thoughts I’d tried to push away overwhelmed me. I was still thinking about them.
Before long, we hit a stretch of beach where we were completely alone. The lights of the pier were behind us, and the world seemed reduced to us and the susurrus of the water. Without saying anything, Logan reached for my hand. I didn’t pull away because his touch felt good.
The moment was charged with emotion. Something had changed, and I thought, “This is great. Our friendship just leveled up.”
But I knew it was more than that. We stopped, and our hands slipped apart as we turned toward each other. As soon as our eyes met, my heart went crazy. A kiss hung between us, and my world tilted when Logan licked his lips. Smiling, I leaned in enough to extend an invitation. I wanted it, but since I’d never kissed a guy before, I needed Logan to meet me halfway. He had to show me it was okay to cross the line we’d been flirting with for too long.
He leaned toward me, but right before our lips met, he stopped. His voice was low and shaky. “I want… Riles, do you—”
I brushed my lips over his and left them there. He made a throaty sound as I wrapped my arms around him, needing to hold him and be sure the moment was real.
His hands framed my face, and the moment his tongue traced the seam of my lips, we both moaned. Maybe he was giving me time to pull away. I didn’t. Instead, I opened for him, and the slow, warm slide of his tongue against mine lit a fire inside me.
I pulled him closer as he threaded his fingers through my hair, cradling my head while I deepened the kiss. Somewhere, an alarm blared in my mind: this could wreck everything. And yet I pressed harder, choosing him over fear.
He was all warm, solid muscle, and I purred when the contours of our chests slid into place. My heart burst into double-time as our cocks, separated by two pairs of jeans and boxers, found one another. He was as hard as I was. My hips moved on their own, and we groaned with pleasure as we rocked together. My brain sent up an urgent signal: all systems go.
When we broke for air a moment later, I tried to think clearly. I needed to say that was amazing, but we shouldn’t. Imagine my surprise when what came out was, “Want to go back to the hotel?”
“God, yes. Come on.”
He grabbed my hand, and we headed back the way we’d come. We were men on a mission.
6/
logan
I cracked one eye open and squinted at the clock. It was 5:43 a.m., too early. Since morning skate wasn’t until ten-thirty, I had another few hours to sleep. I stretched my legs and turned over, trying to drift back off.
“Ah!”
The sharp, strangled sound from across the hall had my eyes wide open, and I shot upright. My heart pounded until it happened again, louder this time. “Fuck.”
“God no! No!”
Riley was having a nightmare, and I was already racing across the hallway, barefoot and half-awake. The guest room door was cracked, so I pushed it open and found him lying on his side, facing the wall, his body moving as though he were pedaling a bike. A fist was clenched around the sheets.
“Oh! Please stop!”
“Riles?” I sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his arm. His skin was hot and damp.
He grunted, struggling with something I couldn’t see.
“Riles.” I shook him gently, then harder. “Come on. Wake up.”
He jolted with a rough gasp and rolled onto his back, blinking up at me. His eyes were unfocused and bleary, and sweat was beaded across his forehead. A flush in his cheeks made him look feverish.
“Hey,” he croaked. “Did I wake you?”
I brushed his matted hair off his forehead. “You were dreaming. Bad one, by the sound of it.”
“Yeah.” He tried to sit up, then dropped back with a sigh. “Started good, then the nightmare showed up.”
“It’s okay.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Time to get up?”
