9. Nate
NINE
Dana Prince visitedme in my dreams. Even when I jerked awake, covered in sweat in a hotel bed, I could see him clearly. I could see his hard features and penetrating gaze. He hadn't said a word to me, but he didn't need to. All he had to say to me had already crossed my mind.
My heart pounded like I'd run a marathon as I got out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. Scalding water stung my skin and loosened the knots in my muscles. The bathroom filled with suffocating steam as I scrubbed my body in the shower. I wasn't gentle about it, either. I rubbed my fingers and dragged my fingernails over the reddening skin, my lips suddenly flashing with pain and the taste of blood on my tongue alerting me that I was biting myself too hard.
I stepped out of the shower and held a balled towel on my mouth where I'd split my lip. It throbbed painfully, spreading the metallic flavor into my mouth until the bleeding slowed and stopped.
When I looked into the steam-fogged mirror, I found my blurry shape. Tall, broad, defined by a lifetime of exercise. Attractive to a college freshman. Attracted to him, too.
My heart sped for a short time, stumbling every so often, and I held my breath. When a wave of trembling passed through my hands, I used the towel to wipe the hot water off my body. By then, the mirror was drying, clearing my reflection for me bit by bit.
Last night flashed before my eyes in the briefest of moments, but the memory unfolded in the back of my mind slowly, thoroughly, with every irresistible detail living so vividly in my brain. His perfect, youthful body, his innocent eagerness, his big eyes full of gratitude and, unmistakably, lust. I could have spent the night simply watching him.
A pang of guilt squeezed my heart.
Dana's son had quit the Titans and marched into my room. And I broke every rule I lived by. I severed my oldest friendship without giving it a second thought. I tore down the walls that had been my last defense. Not that I had been defending myself from Carter. It was precisely the opposite. I had tried to protect him from myself.
A youthful infatuation with someone like me was nothing new. I'd had hordes of fans who'd once called me a heartthrob. And I had never given in to using my celebrity status and their fogged vision of me as a way to get laid. Never.
I rubbed my eyes and face and stared at the mirror. The guy on the other side looked tired but not as ancient as I had thought. Not as lifeless.
Am I really feeding off a college freshman to feel young again?The thought made me wince, and I left the mirror and the bathroom behind. Naked and with wet hair, I walked through my hotel suite until I'd made too many circles in the living room and had to sit. I dropped my tired body into the armchair and looked at the sofa.
The definition of his muscles returned to my mind. The redness of his slick lips and the warmth of his mouth, his little moans, his beautiful, small cock in my mouth…
My dick stirred, and I killed the oncoming arousal by deliberately getting angry with myself.
That day, it seemed I saw Carter more times than ever. In the hotel restaurant, over breakfast, he was sitting with Ron, Avery, and Sawyer, laughing at something. Only when I saw him laugh did I realize how rare that was. I hadn't seen him this cheerful around his teammates before. Quitting seemed to be a much bigger relief than I had imagined.
Carter greeted me the same way everyone else did. I didn't fear him spilling the truth to anyone — not like that, anyway. I knew it couldn't stay hidden forever, especially if we gave in again, but I didn't think Carter would be the one bragging about sleeping with me.
Even if my heart leaped at seeing his smile that morning, I reminded myself that I was the one with all the power. I was the one who had charmed him, impressed him, made him fall for me, and then allowed him into my hotel room.
I saw him again in the lobby waiting for the ride back, and I saw him throughout that trip. The entire day, Carter was permanently in the periphery of my vision and almost always looking away at the very moment I glanced at him.
That night, I returned to my apartment, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep without being plagued by Dana's judgmental and furious looks. The morale among the Titans was low throughout the day after suffering a defeat, which coated my mood black, too.
Carter didn't reach out to me with the juvenile patience that wouldn't have surprised me. It was a reminder of his maturity, or so I told myself in hopes to relieve some guilt from my rotten soul. Throughout the next day, he was on my mind even if he wasn't around me.
The drills that evening were odd. I met the boys in the locker room minutes before we kicked things off, wondering if Carter would be there. His absence wasn't a surprise, considering he had pulled out. "As you probably know by now," I announced after a round of greetings, "Prince decided to step away from hockey. I think it's a good reminder for you all. Talent is never enough if you don't love the sport. If you're not driven by passion, your talent might even be a hindrance. You all saw where Carter's passion is, I'm sure, so I'd like to ask you to respect his wishes. Alright?"
"Hear, hear," Beckett called, and the others echoed.
Now that I knew Carter wouldn't return to practice, his absence was more obvious than when he'd taken a leave last week. I noticed myself scanning the rink for him more than once. The boys did well in drills, going over some of the weaker areas that had cost us the game in Chicago. We had a few friendly matches lined up before the competitive games began, and I found that I cared more and more about the outcome.
Perhaps there was some kind of future for me doing this. Arctic Titans were a team any coach could wish for. Of course, my future with them was still in the air, considering I hadn't been the first choice to coach them.
I should have expected it, but it still surprised me. After the players left the rink, I packed my things and walked through the back door as usual. The air was cooler than on any of the nights so far, bringing fall closer every day. As I strode down the path leading away from the rink, the movement in the shadows started me. "Nate," he said in a light tone.
My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. "Hey."
Carter stepped into the light, hands tucked into his pockets, his youth glimmering on his face. It was joy, actually. He was truly happy for the first time since the semester had started. "I knew I'd find you here."
"I'm a predictable man, it seems." We kept a decent distance between ourselves, but my feet were itching to step closer to him. Nothing was stopping me anymore. Nothing in my heart, at least, even if I still didn't want anyone seeing us together. "We missed you tonight."
"All of you?" he teased.
I nodded and corrected that. "I missed you."
"That's better," he said and stepped a little closer to me. My arms tensed with the need to hold him. Once I had allowed it to myself, the desire dominated all my other feelings. The longing to pull him in made all my reservations fade away.
But I reminded myself that, at the very least, we needed to have a conversation. "Got plans tonight?"
"This was my plan," Carter said cheerfully. "Mission accomplished."
I inhaled a deep breath and held it for a moment. His light brown hair caught the light of the streetlamp, his eyes twinkling like stars, and his lips stretched into such an innocent smile that I found him utterly irresistible. "Did you mention wanting to play the piano, or am I hallucinating?"
Carter chuckled. "I'm dying for my piano, but I can't talk Dad into sending it over."
I scratched the back of my neck. "I happen to have a dusty old piano at my place if you want to practice."
His grin widened, and he shot me a daring look. "You can just ask me over. You don't have to buy a piano as a bait."
I couldn't hold the laugh that welled in me. "Is that what I did?"
Carter shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'd love to see your piano."
"Why do I feel like that's an innuendo?" I whispered.
"Because it is," Carter said, shamelessly winking at me. "Also, I was waiting for this invite."
"I'm not avoiding you," I said firmly. "In fact, I was going to look for you tonight." I gestured with my head toward the parking lot, and Carter skipped after me. The night was the obvious time to see him. The reduced visibility, the free time, and the lack of suspicion from his housemates made it ideal. The fact that it suggested romance and passion was risky but also a plus, considering we were past the point of no return.
Even so, I had to talk to him about sensitive things. We couldn't do it in a bar or in front of the rink. I wouldn't use him again until I drew some firm lines we couldn't cross. I didn't mean to use him, I thought apologetically, but I knew that things simply didn't work that way. My intentions were irrelevant when the facts were what they were. Fame and wealth could easily blind an inexperienced person. The momentary attraction could look like something more to someone so young.
We drove in companionable silence. The old rock music from my speakers filled the car, and Carter occasionally said how much he liked the song that came on. Each time, he surprised me. I would have imagined these songs being totally foreign to him. And if he wasn't humming and mouthing and even singing along, I might have suspected he was only saying it to give us things in common. By the end of the ride, I knew without a doubt that our tastes in music were a match.
"It's timeless," Carter pointed out when I expressed my surprise. "Besides, these songs are twenty years older than you, and you like them."
I had to laugh.
"They are," he said. "You keep pretending you're old, but you were a kid yourself ten years ago."
"I was twenty-eight ten years ago," I said as we walked through the underground garage in my building toward the elevator. "And at the height of my popularity."
"Not true," Carter said. "You peaked in the last couple of years, according to every source I ever read. We're not talking about those shitty online blogs, by the way. Just this morning, The Metropolitan Observer published a piece questioning if your retirement had come too soon. I don't know if you're paying attention, but your old team isn't doing so great."
I hadn't been paying attention. It hurt too much to know what was happening. It hurt that I was out if they were losing, but it hurt the same if they were winning without me.
"You're a real little stalker, aren't you?" I accused him as we entered the elevator.
He shot me a pout. "I'm not little."
My eyebrows moved up and down playfully before I could stop them, and Carter easily read the suggestion off my face. He was little in one particularly delicious way. And the closer we were to total privacy, the harder it was to keep that out of my thoughts.
"And I'm not a stalker," Carter said, his voice a little more airy and his face flushed. "I'll admit, I have all the magazines with you on the cover, but how's that different from any other pop star or actor or sports celebrity?"
It was different in that he had slept with me, but I didn't say it. I was stunned that he had those as much as by the fact that he would so readily admit it. "Even the…"
"The underwear ones? Hell yeah." His heated tone and pink cheeks revealed more than he planned, I was sure.
The elevator dropped up in the elegant hallway that led to my spacious apartment. We walked there, and Carter observed how nice the building was. I hadn't exactly paid much attention to where I lived. I owned properties across the country, vacation homes, luxury apartments, office spaces, and more. Those I lived in from time to time were all the same to me. I'd spent most of my life on the go, living in hotel rooms. Before that, I had been dirt-poor and sharing one small room with my big brother.
I unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open, letting us into my apartment.
"You weren't kidding" were the first words from Carter's mouth.
"About what?" I asked before I remembered.
He simply gestured at the apartment. "It's like those viewing models. Very clean."
I chuckled. "You're getting cheeky."
"I take liberties after sixty-nining someone," he replied with a guileless shrug.
His words made me heat up, but I hurried into the kitchen to get us something to drink. Carter followed me all the way to the fridge, where I searched for Coke. When his gaze grew too heavy, I pulled a can out and set it on the island, finally turning to look into his eyes. He was patient, but there were expectations in that look.
"I want us to talk about things," I said.
He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. "After you kiss me."
My heart thumped so loudly that it felt like it had climbed into my skull. I took a step forward and cupped the boy's cheek, looking into his big, warm eyes. He was daring, far braver than I had ever been, and the desire to be kissed was painted across his entire face.
It lured me in so easily that I didn't even consider not doing it.
When my lips grazed against him, he sucked in a shallow breath of air, then pushed himself up onto his toes. He rose and pressed his mouth against mine just as I leaned in a little lower, kissing him deeply and carefully as if I would never get another chance.
When I pulled away from him, he had that glazed look in his eyes and a silly smile on his lips. After a moment, he blinked and nodded. "That's better."
My chest was tight with all the feelings I wouldn't let run wild. Even if we talked and found a way to see one another, he was still nearly twenty years younger. I couldn't let myself feast on all the good things he made me feel. I couldn't do that to him.
I stepped away, keeping my hands busy by putting ice into two glasses. Carter filled his with Coke, and I searched for something stronger for myself.
"Was that whiskey you had the other night?" Carter asked.
The fact that I feared he would ask me for a glass of whiskey was a terribly pointed example of the age gap between us. "Yes," I said carefully.
"You should have some," Carter said matter-of-factly. "I really like the smell of it."
A shudder passed through my chest, but as it calmed down, I realized it wasn't anything other than the flutters of anticipation. I wanted him again. This brief, brilliant kiss was enough to seduce me into obedience to a nineteen-year-old. It was enough to make me want to give everything up just to have him again.
I poured myself two fingers of whiskey over the ice and turned to Carter. "Let's get comfortable."
He grinned. "You don't have to tell me twice." He reached for the top button of his light gray shirt, which had a small, dark pattern splattered over the fabric. When I laughed and shook my head, he shrugged and lifted his glass instead.
We settled in the living room on the long sofa. Despite so much room, we found ourselves inches apart, turning so that we faced one another. The entire right side of my torso was leaning against the back of the sofa, my eyes on Carter, my right leg folded under my ass.
"You wanted to talk about things," Carter reminded me gently. I could hear a tiny note of anxiety in his tone.
I nodded. The fact that I made him nervous was killing me, but we had to establish some rules and clear some things up. "I'm thirty-eight," I said clumsily, and Carter rolled his eyes.
"I've read your Wikipedia, Nate. I know how old you are." He took a sip of his Coke while looking at me. After he swallowed, he spoke again. "I have never been attracted to someone my age, okay? You can be fifty for all I care. I like men who had some time to find themselves."
If he thought I'd found myself by this age, he was in for a disappointment, but I didn't digress. "And you see nothing wrong with this?" I asked instead.
"Not a thing," he assured me. "If it weren't you, it would be someone like you."
I breathed in and out slowly. "That doesn't solve the real issue."
"My dad?" Carter asked.
It felt like a needle stabbed me right through my heart, but I shook my head. "It's not that, Carter. Don't get me wrong, Dana wouldn't be happy." Won't be, I corrected myself. I hesitated, wondering how to approach this.
Carter watched me anxiously, sipping his Coke twice in the time it took me to find the right way to start.
"Let me be absolutely honest with you," I said. "I like you, Carter. I find you attractive. I think you're hella smart and funny. And your talent for music is breathtaking."
"That's a good start," Carter said with a small smile. "But there's a ‘but.'"
I clenched my teeth and watched the rising disappointment in his eyes. I would have told him immediately that we didn't need to give this up, but I couldn't go in that direction. He had to have a clear way out after I said the things I had to say. I continued as gently as I could. "I'm not a regular guy. You know that. I've been famous for longer than I had been an anonymous nobody. Being in the spotlight is like saying hello. And turning up the charm for others to admire is second nature to me. You have to know this, Carter, because you wouldn't be the first person to be blinded by the things I wanted everyone to see. It's what I was taught to do. When I was much younger, I had an entire team of advisors teaching me exactly how to smile to take a breath away. They wanted me to break a million hearts because I was young, good-looking, and had a camera-friendly face. My first manager put me in front of every microphone and camera he could find." I paused. Carter's expression grew ever so slightly darker, his lips pressed a little tighter, and his gaze never moved from my face. "What I'm trying to say is that I can't control this. My instinct is to hide a lot of things about myself and only show the stuff people want to see. Stuff that makes people like me and admire me…" Crush on me and fall in love with me. I avoided saying those words. "But there's more to me than that. I flirt with alcohol when times are tough. I'm not a drunk, but I don't shy away from a few shots of whiskey when I sit here all alone. And this summer's been the hardest in my life since I was a broke kid getting bullied for wearing my hand-me-downs from my big brother." I snorted to conceal how badly the taste still lingered in my mouth from thirty years ago.
Carter nodded slowly and licked his lips as if he would speak.
I hurried to take away his chance. "I also know that I've been sold to generations of people as something everyone wanted, Carter." My voice was regretful, even after I tried to make it firm. "Countless girls were infatuated with me over the years. Just check my inboxes and you'll see for yourself. They saw this popular, beloved athlete who cracked jokes at press conferences and acted like he had his shit together. But that was what we wanted to show to the world. It's not real."
Carter sighed audibly enough to make me stumble over my words. "Are you done?"
"As a matter of fact, no," I said, annoyed that he was so dismissive. I should have controlled myself a little better than that because the words that followed were far less diplomatic. "I don't want to use you just because you find that guy from the magazine covers attractive, Carter. I'm not him. I'm a fucked-up man with more regrets than he can count. And I don't plan to add you to that pile."
Silence.
Carter frowned at me like I'd said something terrible. I didn't want to give him up, but I wouldn't drag him by the nose on account of my old, neatly curated glory. If he wanted me, he would have to have the whole messy package.
Finally, Carter set his glass on the coffee table and cocked his head in a judgmental way. "You're doing it again," he said without bothering to keep the accusation out of his voice. "You're acting like I'm some stupid kid who doesn't know how these things work."
I opened my mouth to disagree.
"Let me talk now," he said, and I snapped my mouth shut. "Did you forget where I grew up, Nate? You spent a lot of time at my dad's place. You have to remember the vultures waiting outside his gates to snap any photo of him that they can to unravel the mystery that Dana Prince used to be. I'm not blind. I know what fame is like, and I know who you are. Not the sexiest man of the year, nor the winger, Nate Partridge. But Nathan. The poor kid, the upstart, the one who got lucky to strike a friendship with my dad that opened all those doors early on. Do you think I don't remember you crediting my dad with all your success? I know you."
Even if he gave me a chance to speak now, he had left me speechless.
"I know that you're shy, actually, and that you're humble. I know how much you doubt yourself. And I absolutely know the ugly side of fame. So, no, Nate. I'm not blinded by the inflated brand image. And screw you for thinking that I am." He paused for only a heartbeat for this jab to land. It punched me in the stomach, almost kicking all the air out of me. "I like you. I like the way you look, the way you smell, and the way you stand up for me, even when you think you're just doing the right thing and that it doesn't mean anything. I think you're the hottest guy ever, and not because I have some wrinkled old magazine cover to look at." He blinked faster, his cheeks heating up. "If you really think I'm so empty-headed that I fell for the things your agents wanted everyone to see, then you don't know the first thing about me, and you don't remember who my dad is. Did you forget how sweet he was to every journalist when there were cameras around? How friendly he was to all his fans? And how he yelled at me for putting the rollerblades on before I tried the skates?"
My heart sank so low that it was beating from my stomach.
"You haven't seen him shout at me for playing the guitar after practice because it wasted my energy, and I should be watching hockey to study what professionals did." He said those words before his breath hitched, and he looked away, blinking furiously. "I want to be with you," he whispered hurriedly. Then I noticed he was trying to blink the tears away. He swiped at his eyes angrily and turned his head even further away from me, his chest rising and falling quickly until he abruptly stopped breathing.
"Fuck, Carter," I whispered. "You're right. You're right about everything. I apologize."
His jaw stiffened, chest still not moving.
"I underestimated you," I admitted. "I'm sorry. I should have realized that you, of all people, were immune to fame." Of course he was. Maybe not completely and maybe not to all kinds of fame, but a hockey star was unlikely to seduce him after he'd witnessed the two sides of his father.
His lower lip quivered for a moment before he forced his head back, and his gaze met mine. "Yes?" he whispered fearfully.
"Yes," I said, finding his tight fist on the sofa between us. I wrapped my hand gently around it until he relaxed his hand. His fingers threaded through mine. "Okay, yes."
"Really?" His pupils dilated, tears vanishing from his big, warm eyes.
"We can be together, Carter," I said. Somewhere in the depths of my heart, I knew I was signing my own execution warrant, but it didn't matter. I wanted this guy. He was the most refreshing, invigorating addition to my life that I could remember. He was the perfect companion, the ideal partner, and the most attractive person I'd ever met. He was beautiful in every way. "If you truly want me, I'm all yours."
He visibly fought the incredible smile that stretched his lips. "Drop the ‘if,' Nate, or I'll make you regret you ever met me."
A laugh burst out of me, and I felt like a boy on the verge of falling in love. I leaped forward, slamming my mouth against his, feeling like I was twenty years younger. Hope filled me as I kissed Carter. For one glimmering moment, he was all I knew. Nothing else mattered as much as making this young man as happy as I could. In doing that, I was making my heart whole. I was discovering the purpose I'd thought I had lost. The sad truth was I had never had a purpose. I had only had a career. But the true happiness that came with kissing someone so passionately had always been a mystery to me. Until him.
I kissed him and pushed him so far back that he sprawled on the sofa, and I lay on top of him, our bodies coiling and our souls colliding.
Carter's hands traveled all over my back, and the heat of the moment carried us into the realm of all the irresistible possibilities. We let our passion run wild. I pleasured him with my mouth carefully until our naked bodies were covered in sweat and our hearts were beating twice the normal speed. We reveled in the mess of lust, holding on to one another as our heartbeats slowed down and our lungs filled with air.
He nestled his head in the fold of my arm, the side of his face pressed against my chest. "I hear your heart," he whispered.
I kissed the top of his head for a long time.
After, he looked up at me with a drowsy expression that carried a spark of mischief. "One of these nights, you'll have to do more to me than that."
I laughed softly. "Hush, baby. There's time for everything." I wasn't in any hurry to fuck him. And Carter would have to be patient. I wanted to experience much more of him before I claimed his body so completely. I wanted to make him feel special, not just in the hours of lovemaking. I wanted us to wait. I wanted us to know so much more about each other before merging our bodies like that.
For a man who had spent months moping about the way his life had ended, it was a relief to feel like there was time for everything. I didn't lie to him. In my heart, there was only hope. The days could only bring more of the good things.
After all this time, I felt like I had been climbing an endless staircase to something larger than I could have imagined. And I was here at long last. The doorstep I finally found was clearly only just the start of my life, not the end.
Carter moved away from me and sat up. Naked and beautiful, he sat with his back turned to me. I pressed my fingers against the top of his spine, dragging my hand down and feeling his body's rhythm. And when my hand found his hip, he looked at me over his shoulder. His head tilted briefly in the direction of the far window and the concert piano stationed there and closed against the dust. "May I?"
I cleared my throat to stifle a laugh. "That's why I brought you here, right?"
Carter laughed out loud. "Yes, of course. That's why I'm here." He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine for a long moment, letting us both savor the beauty of it. When he moved away from me, he stood up and strolled across the large living room wearing nothing but a happy smile on his face.
He sat down on the piano stool, lifted the lid off the pristine keys, ran his fingers softly and silently over them, thought for a moment, and then shredded my heart with the beauty of his music.