Page 17 of Blurred Boundaries

It’s not just about wanting him in some vague, abstract way. It’s specific, and I don’t know how to switch it off. Could I be content with only wanking to thoughts of him? Knowing my brain doesn’t do subtle, that it will keep torturing me with the things I’ve seen before? Like seeing Austin and Roland fucking—except in my fantasy, I’m the one bent over with Taj behind me. I shake my head, trying to force my attention back to the ice. I have a very uncanny ability to make myself miserable in my own head. I can’t continue letting my thoughts run amok.

“You okay there?” Taj asks.

“Yeah, sure,” I answer quickly. “Where are the players?”

“They’ll be back out soon,” he says.

A pause stretches between us. I blurt out the next question without thinking it through. “Was there ever anything between you and Kingsley?”

Taj laughs. “God, no.” He shakes his head. “King and I can’t be an item. He’s so intense. He’s got traits I can’t keep up with.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s kind of overprotective. Let’s just say he’s not afraid of anything, or anyone.”

That doesn’t clear anything up for me, but I nod anyway because I’m not sure I want to ask for more details. “Aren’t you guys around the same age?” I say instead.

“Yeah, I’m a few months older than him,” he replies. “We’ve been inseparable for a while, and I’ll miss him when he leaves after his twentieth birthday.”

“He’s leaving?”

“Yeah. He got drafted by a team in Canada last year. He’ll be the first Nigerian to play in the NHL, which is just so cool.”

Before I can ask any follow-up questions, the players are getting called back onto the ice. I find myself tracking Kingsley without meaning to. There’s something about him that stands out. He looks young, truly, even more so than Taj. But I can see what Taj meant earlier. While most of the players have that relaxed pre-game look, either smiling or just settling into focus, Kingsley is different. There’s something intense about the way his face is set.

“Do they shake each other?” I ask Taj.

“Nah,” he answers without looking away from the ice. “Not before the game. If they know each other, they would have already acknowledged each other during warm-ups. Formal handshakes are usually after a playoff series ends.”

The noise in the rink builds again as both teams take position, arranging themselves across the ice. I watch as Kingsley and another player bend low across from each other, stick down, body still, the referee standing between them with what I now recognise as the puck.

“Why is Kingsley there?” I ask.

“He’s the centre and usually takes the faceoff,” Taj answers.

Oh boy, there’s a lot I need to learn about hockey. The referee drops the puck, and everything happens at once. Kingsley moves first, pulling it back cleanly to one of his teammates. The crowd goes haywire, their cheers bouncing off every surface in the arena. Taj actually jumps up from his seat. I stay put, slightly slower on the uptake, trying to work out what just happened and whether I’m supposed to be impressed. As the game progresses, I still don’t fully understand what’s going on. The puck is hard to follow, flicking between sticks and skates, and half the time I lose it completely.

At some point, Kingsley leaves the ice. A line change, Taj explains. I also learn that instead of a half-time like in football, there are three periods instead.

Kingsley scores the only goal of the game during the third period. It happens too fast for me to properly see the build-up, but the crowd’s reaction tells me everything I need to know. The arena erupts, Ironclad fans chanting his name. There’s something familiar about it. It reminds me of how the fans back in England used to chant Roland’s name after a save. It brings a pang to my heart knowing how quickly their admiration turned just because he fell in love with a man.

“Let’s go see Kingsley now,” Taj declares, getting to his feet once the game ends.

Lukáš is practically bouncing where he’s standing, holding up three jerseys with Kingsley’s name. “I brought my jerseys for him to sign.”

“Wow, you’re his number one fan, huh?” I can’t help smiling. “But you guys go ahead, I need to leave.”

Taj leads me away, so we’re not blocking anyone. The noise of the arena is still loud around us as people start moving towards the exits. “Didn’t you have fun?” he asks.

“Of course, I did,” I tell him honestly. “I just need to get some grading done. But I’m glad I came. I think I might actually become a hockey fan.”

That earns me one of his charming smiles. “I will arrange our next date.” And before I can interject, he adds, “Oops, I mean ‘platonic hangout in public’.”

I laugh before I can stop myself. The effect Taj has on me should really be studied . . . because that smile makes me want to follow him everywhere like a lost puppy.

“Looking forward to it,” I say like a smitten fool.

We walk back to Lukáš and Angelika, and I do my best to act normal while saying goodbye.