Page 84 of Goalie Interference

TWENTY-FIVE

Ander

After plenty of time to think it over, here is what I have decided. I like Nikolai. A lot. More than I have ever liked anyone before in my life.

Call it the most extreme case of post-nut clarity. Because damn, things have become clear. All those years of not being all that interested in dating, all those nights out with single teammates to bars, night clubs, or well, let’s face it, the occasional strip club looking for action. Boring.

Nothing has ever compared to Nikolai. He isn’t boring at all. When I think of him, excitement runs through my body, especially my cock. But that excitement isn’t restless either. It’s calm, yet also keeps me energized. Intrigued. Which is saying a lot because for the entirety of my life the only thing I have ever been able to focus on is keeping the puck out of the net. All other thoughts? Useless.

So yeah, when I saw his name on my caller ID for the first time since Christmas, I picked up. And I grinned through our entire three-minute phone call.

Which is why this conversation I’m about to have with him is going to suck worse than a puck to the nuts with no cup.

“Hi,” he says as he opens the door to his apartment. Wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black hooded sweatshirt that looks soft to the touch, he’s perfect. His hair is styled with his usual side part and it appears to have been cut recently. The lines are crisp and the front fringe falls over his brows nicely, framing his green eyes so that they’re where my eyes focus as I take him in.

How on earth did it take me so long to realize I was attracted to him? And how on earth am I supposed to look at him now and tell him that he was right? There is no us. Not while the season is going on at least. I finally found my game again on my own. We’re both chasing after the same goal. And though in my heart it might feel wrong, he was right. Right now, all we can be is friends.

But before we get to that, I do need to wrap him in my arms. Hugs as a greeting are a Bouchard standard after all.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, enjoying the way he smells. Whatever shampoo he uses has a relaxing scent, like the hot cup of tea my mom would make to warm us up after playing on the pond when we were little.

“I have missed you,” he says, holding me back.

God, how I’ve wanted to hear those words. I’ve wanted to say those words. But I don’t think it’ll help. Not now, anyway. We may have missed each other, but ultimately, he was right.

Finally, we release each other, and he points to the kitchen island where he has food set up.

“I ordered steaks and pasta. Local Italian place. Is good.”

“Smells great,” I say as I walk towards the counter and sit on one of the lush stools.

He stands on the other side and holds up a bottle of wine. “Unless you would prefer something stronger.”

Yes. You.

“Actually, I would like vodka if you have it.” I’m definitely going to need a stiff drink.

He smiles and walks to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle. He grabs two glasses from a cabinet and comes back to the island, facing me. “Why am I getting sense we are going to need heavy pour?”

My heart sinks as I nod at him.

He passes me my drink then, holding up his glass, he says, “To hard conversations.”

“I’m afraid so,” I say, lifting my glass to meet his. We both take a sip.

His gaze is soft while he looks at me. “I was planning on this conversation going the opposite way.”

“To be honest, up until recently I would have loved it if it had.”

“What changed?” He takes another sip.

“Nothing,” I say. I let my eyes fall on the food. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, but it looks like that might be the case. “I just realized that we found the worst time to find each other.”

He nods, and takes his eyes off me for the first time. “The timing is not ideal.”

“Less than ideal.” A feeble laugh tumbles out of me. “How would it even work? There’s too much on the line.”

“Your team is the only one standing between my team and cup.”