Page 2 of Rookie Moves

I tap my glove against his, unable to get any words to fall out of my mouth as he skates away to take his position at center ice. My eyes are glued to him, pulse drumming an erratic beat. Like it does every time Tyler even so much as glances in my direction.

I’m pretty sure there are rules about this. About not crushing on your teammate.

But with Tyler? I didn’t stand a chance.

His easygoing smile. The way he holds eye contact with you whether he’s talking or listening, like he genuinely cares about every word you have to say. His magnetic energy that puts me at ease whenever he’s around.

And don’t even get me started on his thighs.

Damn, now is definitely not the time to be thinking about those.

Snapping my attention back to the play on the ice, Providence’s offense is all over us, but we stay strong. The minutes ticking down on the clock turn into seconds, and Providence fail to take another shot on goal before the buzzer sounds.

We won.

We fucking won.

We’re Hockey East champions and another step closer to the Frozen Four.

I vault off the bench and swarm the ice with my teammates, leaving our sticks, gloves, and helmets scattered in our wake. In the mix of shouts and celebratory hugs, I find Tyler. His dark hair is damp with sweat, the long strands sticking to his face. His smile is ten feet wide, and the sight of it has a pleasant ache forming deep in my chest. His eyes lock onto mine, and then he begins to push through our rowdy teammates. Some have fallen onto the ice, laughing with joy.

When he reaches me, nothing could prepare me for the way his arms come around me, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

“Fuckin’ A, Colbs. You’re magic, you know that?”

Colbs.

I hate when people call me that, but falling from Tyler’s lips, it’s my favorite word of all.

“Nah,” I scoff, feeling hot under his pride-filled gaze. “I just had a shot, so I took it. You would’ve done the same.”

He shakes his head, his smile growing impossibly wider. His hand lands on my shoulder, and I find myself leaning into it. The moment is broken a few seconds later, interrupted by our teammates lining up to shake hands with the other players, and I mourn the loss of his touch, like I do every single time.

After the trophy is presented and we finish taking what feels like ten million photos, my cheeks are aching by the time we head back to the plush locker room we’ve been put in, all of us buzzing on the post-W high.

“I’m really proud of you guys tonight. You didn’t crack under the pressure when things got tough. We need to carry that into the next few weeks,” Coach Vaughn says, taking the time to look at each one of us individually. “This is the strongest team Whilton U has ever seen, and I’m confident this is only the beginning. Enjoy this win tonight, boys, because the hard work isn’t over yet.”

He steps out of the way, and the trophy is brought into the locker room. Liam lifts it in the air, and we all celebrate around him, howling like testosterone-filled hounds as energy drinks are sprayed like champagne. We take turns with the trophy, getting even more photos taken, then someone plugs in their phone, and music blares from the Bluetooth speaker.

I glance around the locker room, laughing at Nelson as he does some weird dance-shuffle shoulder-pop move to the beat of the music, and a shirtless Liam does the Griddy in just his hockey pants and skates.

As much as the NHL is going to be a blast, it’s wild to think I could have missed this if I didn’t go with my gut. I would have missed out on the opportunity to experience this with some of the nicest guys I’ve ever met and potentially carve my name in the history books at Wilton U.

With that sentimental feeling blooming in my chest, I drop onto the seat of my stall and unlace my skates. I keep my head down as I undress, a habit I’m grateful none of the others have picked up on. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable around these guys, but there are a few things they don’t know about me. Some things only my family and one other person know.

One of them being I’m not… out. I haven’t wanted to come out before I was drafted. Not until I had my skates well and truly cemented within the league and there wasn’t as much pressure on my shoulders.

It’s already stifling; then throw in being the first openly gay draft pick? I know I wouldn’t be able to breathe with the media on my back. Representation is important, I get that, but with how hungry everyone is for my rise, and possibly my fall, I don’t want to risk it getting eaten by the wolves before my career has even started.

I’m quick to hit the showers, and I’m in the middle of getting dressed when Tyler saunters over. He’s freshly showered, wearing only a towel around his trim waist. I quickly avert my eyes again, focusing on anything but the way his biceps bulge when he ruffles his long, dark brown hair with another towel. Or how there’s a stray drop of water running down between his pecs and disappearing behind the terry cloth.

Oh, I want to lick that off so bad…

“Are you coming to the party tonight, Colby?” he asks, moving to his stall located a few down from mine.

I flinch and snap my gaze to his.

Shit, did he see me gawking?