Page 84 of Two for Charging

And today, they were going to win.

The home crowd greeted them with subdued applause, unsurprising after two losses. But with Jax and Chris tossing out sticks and pucks to kids in the stands by the handful and Mooney and Tom showing off by racing up and down the ice and passing as they went, they got some atmosphere going. Even Howie got in on it, practicing trick shots on Dmitriyev.

“They’re playing Henderson again,” Luca said in an undertone, squinting down the ice at the goalie on the other side, limbering up in his number one jersey.

“Why? We obliterated him last time.” Chris could barely see the decals on Henderson’s helmet, but he thought he could make out two sea otters. Those were kind of dope. Dmitriyev favored flames and skulls. Cool, but not very original, and not at all matching the Sea Lions’ aquatic theme.

Luca shrugged. “Maybe he wants to prove himself.” He grinned, all teeth.

Chris wanted those teeth on his skin.

The thought excited him as much as it scared him. The constant desire to touch Luca overwhelmed him, a want he now realized he had filled through more hugs and cuddles than was in any way normal for platonic roommates. But to him, the strangest feeling of all was wanting to be touched in return.

When he’d thought about sex before Luca, Chris had pictured himself in an active role, as the person who did things to someone else. Now, he realized his assumptions about sex had been based on the belief that, as a straight guy, he ought to want sex in a particular way. It shouldn’t be such a revelation; five different people had had to tell him he could want things however he wanted them and still be okay for the concept to sink in.

He might know himself better, but he definitely hadn’t gotten smarter.

He couldn’t wait to tell Luca. Finally, it all made sense: the cuddling on the couch, the way Chris’s stomach squirmed when they had their roommate dates, the sex coaching. All of it was because Chris had feelings for Luca. The thought of confessing reminded Chris of how it felt at the top of the climb on a roller coaster, waiting for the drop with joyous fear, tying his stomach into knots. He didn’t know what waited for him at the bottom, but he knew he wanted to fall.

He wondered if Luca would want to touch him. To bite him.

Not the time, he reminded himself.

The game started well. Jax won the opening face-off and passed off to Tom, who took it up the ice.

Denisov was on them instantly. He played hard and fast, and he kept his eyes on the puck and not on the Sea Lions’ bench. Chris wondered whether Howie was watching.

Now was not the time to worry about Howie’s relationship issues either. Tom sent the puck hurtling to Chris on the backcheck, and Chris exploded into action, passing first to Luca and then, when Luca shot the puck to him again, taking the first shot on goal.

Henderson caught it in an outstretched glove.

“Nice save, number four!” Chris called.

Hockey players had to take a little chirping, after all.

The first period ended scoreless, all tight, frenetic energy but no results. In the second, one of the Firecrackers took a hooking penalty against Howie, and the Sea Lions went on the power play. Luca scored from the blue line thirty seconds into it, and Chris jumped to his feet with the rest of the bench.

“Fuck that was hot,” he said, out loud and everything. Thank God the roar of the crowd made sure no one could hear him.

Luca passed them by for a celebratory lap and then hopped onto the bench so the second power play unit could go out.

“Nice one!” Chris told him.

Luca tapped their sticks together.

“Oh shit, he’s after Howie again,” Jax muttered, leaning forward, and Chris’s eyes were drawn to the ice once more.

Denisov had returned to his old tricks, hounding Howie across the offensive zone and toward the center line.

“Draw a penalty,” Luca muttered. “Come on, Howie, make him look stupid. It will not be hard. We will get them with a second power play.”

But Howie’s mouth remained closed. His head ducked down, and Denisov got him from the side, crunching him into the boards by the shoulders. He did it less brutally than the last time; Howie stayed on his feet. He lost the puck, though, and Denisov had it on a breakaway headed straight for the goal.

Howie struggled after him, picking up speed, but he couldn’t make it before the shot left Denisov’s puck, so he threw himself onto the ice, stick outstretched just far enough to catch the puck before it hit the goal.

But Denisov caught the rebound, and with Howie in the way, Dmitriyev couldn’t move. Denisov aimed for the top shelf, and Dmitriyev jumped. The puck bounced off his glove, but the second he landed, he crumpled to the ground, half on top of Howie.

“Oh shit,” Chris breathed.