Page 57 of Goalie Interference

“Well, you can’t lie in here all day smelling like that.” Tavish sits on the edge of his bed and puts his gym shoes on. “At least go take a shower and I’ll bring you up some dry toast.”

“And coffee, too, please.”

“Anything else you’d like, princess?”

“Maybe some orange juice.” I open one eye to peer at him.

He shakes his head and grins at me. “You’re a mess,” he says, as he rises off the bed and heads towards the door. “And I don’t just mean today.”

“But I’m your mess,” I say to him as I sit up in bed. The movement makes my head throb. However, now that I’m sitting up, my stomach feels better, so that’s a start.

Laughing, he opens the door and begins to leave the room. “I liked it better when you were Gavin’s mess.”

When the door shuts, I feel a little better. Lighter. Like maybe my realization last night that I’m attracted to Nikolai didn’t alter the world as fundamentally as I thought. I was sure everyone must have felt it.

And Tavish is right. I stink. A shower will do me some good.

Getting out of bed, I expect the ground to still feel unsteady under my feet like it did last night. But now with a head no longer fogged by vodka and my earth-shattering revelation, my feet feel more connected to the floor below me.

My heart rate is frantic though. And there’s a familiar pang in my chest around it. A pull. I want to talk to Nikolai, or even more, be at his place instead of in this hotel room.

That’s not possible. Not now. Not while the season is in full swing. Maybe in the offseason I can scratch that itch, but only if he feels the same which, let’s face it, is as unlikely as them beating us and winning the cup.

Once in the bathroom, I turn the water on in the shower. It’s already hot and steamy in here from Tavish getting cleaned up not long ago. But still. I brush my teeth and scrub them hard to get the taste of all the booze out of my mouth.

My head still throbs. I wish Tavish would hurry back here with that coffee.

But also, as I step into the shower and feel the water hit my body, I’m glad I’m alone. It’s as if all the nerve endings in my body are overly sensitive. Reacting to the world as if over-stimulated, and hyperaware.

Last night, I’d been hit with a life-altering realization about myself, then tried to swallow it back down with booze. I failed and it is rising to the forefront again.

Standing in the shower, I finally say it out loud. “I’m not straight.”

How did I miss this about myself? How have I gone twenty-six years without realizing I’m attracted to men.

Looking back, the signs have always been there. Maybe not as obvious as they were for my brother, but there all the same. I can’t remember ever having an all-consuming crush on another man like Brandon did when Ryan billeted with us. But I’ve never had an all-consuming crush on a woman either. Sure, they’re nice to look at, but beyond that, they’ve never really been all that interesting to me. And if I’m being honest, I find Nikolai to be way more appealing to the eye.

I like the structure of his face. His strong jaw, long prominent nose, heavy brow ridge that shadows his green eyes. I like the broadness of his shoulders. His long legs and the way they are firm against mine when I sit across the table from him. His large hand and the way it feels, secure, steady, weighted on my skin.

I want to hear his voice all the time. I want to be surrounded by the way he smells. I want to enjoy his proud strength and stoicism. His masculine nature that exudes quiet confidence and calm.

Nikolai is everything I’ve always wanted but didn’t know how to find. How have I been too stupid to realize that all this time what I’ve been looking for is another man?

Sure, I’ve had sex with women, and it’s been fine. But not earth-shattering. If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt like something was missing when I was with them. All this talk I’ve heard about sex with women being the greatest thing ever from every other male around me hasn’t ever been all that relatable. It felt good enough, but no better than anything I can accomplish with my own hand.

And not once has a girl had me feeling rock hard in the shower like I am right now as I think about what sex with Nikolai might entail.

I let out a long shaky breath as I grab my cock and give it a slow pull from base to tip. That simple motion already has the ache in my head disappearing. I slide my fist back down to the base, then repeat, keeping my hand moving in a slow steady rhythm as I let my thoughts draw up fantasies of Nikolai being the one jerking me off.

That’s not all I think about. As the tension in my cock builds, I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. Would I finally understand what all the fuss is about? I lick my lips. I want to know what he tastes like.

If he was in this shower with me, would he want to claim my mouth with his as well? Better yet, would he want me to jerk him off while he was working my cock for me? Better still, would he come close enough to me that I could feel his skin against mine? Press our hard bodies together so we could feel the ridges and slopes of each other’s forms. Would he wedge one of his muscular thighs between my legs and let me rut against him? Would he care if our cocks touched? Would he take charge and read me like a book, instinctively take care of my sexual needs the same way he does my emotional ones when he places a hand on me to center me?

The thought of that undoes me, and I shoot my load hard across the tiles of the shower. I’m shocked by the cry that escapes my lips as I come. And the whimper that follows as I come back down to earth.

I’ll never know the answers to any of these questions. Because Nikolai is my friend and technically my rival and he’s straight. I can’t help to lead my team to another Stanley Cup victory, and at the same time give in to these desires for my counterpart on the team that is our biggest threat to that victory.

SIXTEEN