16. Kade

Chapter sixteen

Kade

A new heatwave arrived in Whistleport like an unwelcome houseguest who refused to leave. It threatened to make daily life miserable for everyone. I walked the quarter mile to the arena, and the air was so thick I figured I could chew and swallow instead of breathe.

Linden Hayes, the popular Portland meteorologist, described the heat in increasingly colorful ways. Before I left the apartment, I watched him characterize it as a "Moose-Melting Swelter." I smiled briefly, but it did little to cool the unpleasant air outside.

As I walked, I saw evidence of the heat's impact everywhere. Main Street usually bustled with tourists and kids out of school during mid-July. Now, it was eerily quiet, with only a few hardy souls walking from one place to another. Those I did see hurried along and tugged at their clothes stuck to sweat-slicked skin.

Outside of Gus's Diner, the neon "Open" sign flickered half as bright as usual, as if the heat sapped its usual energy. The tables along the front window were usually the most popular, but now, everyone crowded toward the rear, away from nature's onslaught.

The town's gardens fared the worst. I passed roses with scorched petals and grass colored a sickly yellowish-brown.

Outside the bank, the digital thermometer fluctuated back and forth between 98°F and 99°F, like it couldn't decide which would depress the locals more. I spotted one pedestrian looking up and sighing before trudging forward toward their ultimate destination.

Whistleport residents did their best to adapt to the heat with grim determination. While the heat intensified, the little town's status as an idyllic coastal tourist destination dimmed, yet I found the different side fascinating. It was more real than the calculated image presented to out-of-town visitors.

When I reached the arena and opened the door, the chill hit me like someone slapped me. The sweat on my skin dried almost instantaneously. I took a deep breath and savored the unique scent of freshly zambonied ice.

The day's big event was the junior league's first competitive scrimmage. I led one team, and Ziggy was in charge of the other. When I arrived, he was already in the locker room, and I sat next to him on a bench to lace up my skates.

He elbowed me. "Ready to lose this one? I've got a team full of future superstars."

"In your dreams. My kids are firing on all cylinders like a well-oiled machine."

Rory's voice suddenly rang out, cutting through the excited chatter of the junior players adjusting their gear. "Alright, everybody. Today's the day to show us what your coaches have taught you. First and foremost, though, this is about having fun. Kade, Ziggy—keep it clean, gentlemen."

He couldn't resist a knowing wink as he passed us, and a rush of gratitude filled me. He'd briefly pulled me aside on my way into the locker room. "I see how you and Ziggy look at each other, and it warms my heart. Brooks and I were like that as seniors in high school. You've got my full support, but today, I need you to set that aside and focus on coaching first."

While we skated out onto the ice, I glanced at Ziggy. I saw the competitive fire in his eyes that I remembered from our college games. I couldn't wait for the fun to begin.

When Rory dropped the puck at center ice, chaos ensued. My team's center, a scrappy kid named Josh, passed the puck back to one of his wingers, Danny, and they took off down the ice. Danny deked around one of Ziggy's defenders, but the next one, a tall girl named Brenda, checked him hard into the boards.

I called out encouragement. "Heads up, Danny! You've got this."

Ziggy's team took possession and passed the puck back and forth with a crisp precision that made me envious. Their center, a boy named Travis, fired off a wrist shot that my goalie barely deflected.

I bit my lip and glanced at Ziggy. He was waving his hands, encouraging his team to regroup. "Nice shot, Travis! You'll get it next time!"

The score rocked back and forth. Neither of our teams was able to stay on top for long. I found myself totally engaged in the match. It was as fun and exciting as any college game. My competitive nature soared, and I took pride in seeing the kids putting all they learned out there on the ice. Ziggy and I had taught them a lot.

The play of the day happened halfway through the second period. Mandy, one of my youngest players, skated into the path of a pass intended for one of Ziggy's wingers and snagged it. She put on the jets and broke away from the pack. The parents in the stands held their breath as she tore down the ice with defenders at her heels.

"Go, Mandy, go!" My heart pounded as I watched.

She deked left and then right. Her stick handling was impressive for such a young player. She had one last barrier to surmount. In an act of attempted intimidation, Ziggy's goalie, a boy twice her size, stormed out of the crease to challenge her. Mandy didn't flinch. She stood her ground, lowered her head, and calmly flicked the puck into the top corner of the net.

Cheers erupted from the parents as they rose to their feet. Caught up in the excitement, I pumped a fist in the air, forgetting I was supposed to be a calm, cerebral coach. On the opposite side of the rink, Ziggy paced back and forth, shaking his head as he fought back a smile.

When Mandy returned to the bench with her teammates, I offered a high-five. "That was fantastic. Where'd you learn those moves?"

She beamed. "It was what you showed us last week, Coach. I've been practicing at home with a foam stick and a tennis ball."

At that moment, I thought I understood for sure what coaching was about. I'd encouraged Mandy to go above and beyond what happened in practice sessions, and she followed my suggestions.

The final period was the most intense yet. Ziggy's team was down by one, and they kept the pressure on. Their defense was so strong that my team barely moved the puck across center ice. With only two minutes left on the clock, Ziggy's team tied the game with a beautiful tic-tac-toe play. The passes zipped from one player to the next, and our goalie didn't have a chance when it came time for the shot.

Fortunately, we had one more brilliant play to execute. Josh caught the puck on his stick as the final seconds ticked down. He looked up and saw a fearless Brenda heading for him. He brilliantly passed the puck off to Mandy, who tucked it into the goal.

The parents cheered wildly. My team poured out onto the ice, mobbing Mandy. Caught up in the joy of the moment, I did a little victory dance on my skates and joined my players. Ziggy skated toward me with a playful smirk on his face.

"Hell of a game." He extended a hand to shake. I shook it hard and pulled him in tight for a one-armed bro hug.

"Yeah, I agree. Both of these teams are winners."

Rory skated over and clapped us on the shoulders. His eyes shone. "The two of you are naturals as coaches. A professional team would do well hiring you onto their staff."

I grinned and appreciated the positive strokes, but I knew working with adult players would be a different animal all the way around. "Thanks, Rory, but I'll stick to playing for UNH for now."

When we herded the excited kids off the ice, I smiled at Ziggy. When he smiled back at me, I saw an intoxicating blend of pride, competitive fire, and his love for me. At that moment, I felt like the luckiest guy in the entire state of Maine.

Rory's voice cut into my thoughts. "Great job, men. Now, why don't you two go… cool off?" He offered a not-so-subtle wink. "I'll take care of everything here."

Adrenaline still raced through my veins, but I was also uneasy. As Whistleport continued to embrace me, I started to dread the summer's end. I didn't know how I could return to being Ziggy's rival. He was so much more than that to me. Could I at least fake it?

Ziggy sidled and whispered in my ear. "So, your place?"

Desire surged inside me. "Yeah. Let's go."

On the way to my apartment, I wanted to break into a run to get there as quickly as possible. Ziggy was by my side, and I couldn't wait to touch him. Unfortunately, the heat made running a ridiculous idea. We would surely both collapse before we got there.

Finally, we reached my place, and I was a sweaty mess. Ziggy's lips crashed into mine as soon as I closed the door behind us. The urgency stole my breath, but I managed one word, "Shower?"

We stumbled to the bathroom, losing sweaty T-shirts and jeans along the way. We didn't make it to the shower before Ziggy shoved me up against the wall in the hallway. He pinned me by the wrists and planted his lips on mine.

Pulling back from the kiss, he whispered, "I can't be all Mr. Polite much longer. You drive me crazy, Mister."

I beamed from ear to ear. "I wondered when that side of you would finally come out."

"And you've got one buried in there, too." I was bare-chested with jeans tangled around one foot, wearing only deep purple briefs. Ziggy gripped my thick cock through the cotton, and I moaned.

"Damn, I love that. Turns me the hell on." Pressing one hand on my chest, Ziggy peeled off the rest of his clothes, including his underwear. He stood buck naked in front of me, his cock standing out almost straight. It was beautiful, perfectly formed, and not freakishly large like some I'd seen in porn flicks.

"Shower?" I asked.

"Oh, hell, yeah."

When the warm water started to rain down on us, Ziggy pushed me against the wall again. I let him take the lead, and it was exhilarating. I'd spent so much of my life out front. It was exciting to play the supporting role.

We each squirted out big handfuls of shampoo and dug our fingers into each other's hair while we kissed with water running down our faces. I hadn't seen anything like it other than in one hetero-romance movie I remembered. Ziggy and I were creating brand new memories all our own.

With our hair rinsed, Ziggy gripped my cock and turned it upward, shifting one way and then the other as he checked it out. "I want that."

"It's yours," I whispered.

"I mean, I want that… in my mouth."

"Oh, fuck." I rolled my head back. "No one's getting in your way."

Ziggy slowly dropped to one knee and trailed his long, slim fingers down over my smooth pecs and abs, making it hard for me to breathe. "Damn, Zig, you—"

His right hand shot up, and he covered my mouth. "No talking now. Moans, grunts, and yelps are appreciated."

I couldn't stop a slight chuckle while he gripped my cock with his free hand. I blinked hard as I watched the head disappear between his lips.

Grunting into his hand, I squirmed but didn't want to pull out. He flicked his tongue across the exposed portion of my head. I'd never felt anything like that before. I'd never gotten a blow job from any of the girls I dated. We'd only made it to second base or so.

Pulling back briefly and gazing up at me with those amazing green eyes, Ziggy asked, "Have you ever tasted dick before?"

"No. I hope it's okay."

"OMG, I want this morning, noon and tight. Fuck, I might have to keep you in my bedroom, Kade."

My entire body shivered. Ziggy let go of my mouth and reached down to stroke himself while he sucked me. He was entirely in charge as he led me to the edge.

It didn't take us long. We had an entire summer's passion pent up inside. When we finally came, I yelled, and Ziggy whimpered. The difference made me laugh. It was awesome and freaking unexpected.

He rose to his feet and kissed me hard while I reached behind me to turn off the water. "I love you, Kade Langston," he mumbled into my mouth.

I pulled back from the kiss and chuckled. "Mr. Smashmouth, I love you, too. God, I love you so damn much."

Afterward, we toweled off, and I suggested, "Don't get dressed. Let's head to my bedroom."

For the first time, I crawled into bed with Ziggy Knickerbocker; it was the best place in the world. While we lay tangled together, I traced lazy patterns on his arm.

"Wow," Ziggy whispered, leaning back with his head against my shoulder.

"That's the only word for it."

An hour later, we were both starving. "Want to order a pizza?" I suggested.

"Yeah, because I want to stay here forever."

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and ordered sausage and pepperoni with extra cheese. "If you were here forever, I think the rest of the world would miss you, Zig."

"Probably more than I'd miss it."

"Now, you're just talking with your head spinning around in the hazy sex world."

Ziggy smirked. "And your point is?"

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening together, eating pizza, playing games, and watching a movie. I hoped that it was a glimpse into our future.

As the clock inched towards 11 p.m., Ziggy reluctantly pulled on his shoes. "I should go," he murmured

I reached for his hand and wove our fingers together. "I wish you could stay."

"Me, too." He sighed heavily.

When we finally reached the door, I watched him disappear into the steamy night, the heat still clinging to the air despite the late hour. The perfection of our day together made the reality of our situation hit even harder. How long could we keep this hidden? How would we face each other across the ice when the season started?

As I closed the door, the weight of our secret settled on my shoulders. Something had to give, but what would break first?