Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

LO

I imagined the way he looked at me, right? On his way out the door. And the way he didn't meet my eyes after? Sighing, I step back into the room. Here I thought we'd gotten somewhere.

Caulder's always been kind of a quiet person from what I've observed. Not that I've paid a lot of concentrated attention to him. Just when he's around—games and common events, mostly. I can't tell if this is shyness or something else. Very clearly he's uncomfortable sharing a room and bed.

Strange, since I'm guessing he's played hockey most of his life. There's zero doubt in my mind he's shared both over the years. High schools can't afford individual rooms for all their players each game. Some colleges can't either. Hotels always fuck up and the single bed thing happens on occasion.

There's a chance that it's me, maybe he doesn't like me. Frowning, I turn to drag my carry on onto the bed and open it, looking for a change of clothes and my bathroom bag. I stay out of the news so it's not like Caulder's seen me there with something scandalous or anything. While I'm admittedly impatient as a person and for stupidity, I don't think I'm unkind or anything.

I used to have a massive resting bitch face, but I'm pretty sure I managed to curb that after I started talking to the press, so that can't be it either. The idea that I somehow already made him uncomfortable doesn't sit well with me.

But for right now, I can't do anything about it. He's with his teammates and I have an All-Star team to meet up and eat with. It's been hours since lunch and I'm hungry. It doesn't take much for me to get hangry these days.

The Pacific team chose a restaurant within walking distance to the hotel. I recognize Lamar Gibbon from Anaheim just outside the door and quicken my pace to catch up. He grins when I fall in line next to him.

"Hey, Lo," he greets, smiling. "Glad you could make it."

"Don't rub it in that you're here like every year."

He shrugs. "Yeah, but I'm here as a fan vote. Not as an All-Star invitation."

"Personally, I think that's cooler. You have fans that want to see you here! Clearly a rabid number of them."

Lamar grins. "Okay, yeah that's cool."

"How many goals you planning to score this year?"

He gives me a careless shrug as he looks around. "I only make attempts when they're open. So I suppose that depends on the teams we play and how often they decide to pull their goalies and leave the net wide open."

"It's a risky move."

"I understand the advantage when they do it. But I've seen some really stupid shit go down and some ridiculously easy goals that could have been prevented by a toddler if they'd just left the goalie where he belongs."

We step into the restaurant as he's describing a goal that he made and how it shouldn't have happened, but their opponent was being dumb. It sounds to me like he only scores those goals on teams he deems are playing stupidly.

There's a handful of people here already. Their conversation isn't about hockey but the mess happening at the hotel.

"Lix told her right where to go when she tried to put another player in my room with us. He leaned over the counter and asked, ‘do you think they're going to enjoy watching us have sex in the same bed?'" Noah Kain says, laughing.

"He didn't say that," Brian Teethis says.

"He did," Azure Dayne confirms. "It was entertaining to see the woman turn lobster red."

"So the trick was to tell them you have an actual partner and force their hand," Lamar muses. "I suppose it's a little late for that now."

"I've already seen this fiasco all over ShareIt," Noah comments, shaking his head. "There are some very loud, angry guests here—a lot of which are hockey players."

"Airing dirty laundry," Lamar says, dropping into a chair.

Noah shrugs. "Whatever. This is a major liability suit they have on their hands right now. I've seen no less than three petitions to take away their licenses and shit. One massive class action lawsuit from the parents of high school kids who are here for a competition. It's going to get really ugly."

"I've been wondering just how badly they overbooked," I add. "Sounds like it's a lot of rooms."

"I haven't met anyone who hasn't had an issue," Noah says. "I'm actually a little curious to know what happened to the person who they had assigned to share a room with me. Does that mean they tripled someone up?"

I snort because Caulder and I were just talking about that.

We keep up this conversation as the rest of the team arrives. I'm sipping on my second drink, something blended and refreshing, dangerous in flavor because you can't taste the alcohol, by the time we finally order food.

Conversation then turns to hockey gossip. What's happening behind the headlines and the truth to the stories. I'm reminded of the shit that went down several years ago now with Max Latham. That video and still images were plastered everywhere. And Max simply vanished. More recently, just this season, there was the accusation against Felton Badcock for having a ReachMe account based on a tattoo.

It wasn't even a particularly unique tattoo. In fact, there was a thread that blew up of people posting their star tattoos right where ‘Felton's' was. And there were thousands of people who went out and got an identical one in the exact same place in support of Felton.

Not that it's been confirmed beyond a doubt that it was Felton. Still. Months later.

We talk about Felton for a bit and Noah tells us that he's doing better than he was a couple months ago, but what the outside noise doesn't understand or care about is how this kind of thing really fucks with a person.

Felton's situation was a lot like Max's and yet, very, very different. Both led to the men plastered all over the internet having breakdowns. Max has come out of it and he's in a really great place, while Felton is still trying to climb his way out.

We talk until it's late and the restaurant closes before meandering back to the hotel. The cool air against my skin clears some of the alcohol fog. I didn't drink a lot, but I rarely drink so there's a little bit of mental sluggishness lingering. By the time I'm stepping back into the hotel—where there's still someone yelling at reception—I'm feeling basically normal. Like I hadn't drank at all. Just a few sips.

As the group I'm with begins climbing into elevators, we're making bets about how many receptionists quit working for the hotel because of today. One or two mix ups and bad experiences is one thing. But it's been a non stop barrage since I got here from what I've seen and heard. And I was not one of the first here.

My stomach flips as I stand at the hotel room door and stare at it. Is Caulder in there? I adjust my pants and frown. Really, I should have gone to fuck the local guy instead of coming back with a chubby for my gorgeous roommate. Who's clearly already uncomfortable with me.

Taking a breath, I give my dick a mental pep talk. Not an encouraging one. This is more on the lines of, be good and I'll let you be happy tomorrow. Bribing my dick rarely works, but it's an attempt.

My keycard lets me in, and I find the room dark except for the light spilling in from the ajar bathroom door. It's quiet. Silent. I shut the door quietly, not letting it slam shut like everyone else. Then flip all the locks before stepping further into the room.

When I get to the edge of the wall where I can see the bed, I can't tell if I'm elated he's here or disappointed he's already asleep. There's no movement or sounds.

"You awake?" I ask, keeping my voice low so I don't wake him if he's asleep.

There's a bit of quiet rustling before he answers, "Yeah."

"Cool. I locked up."

"O-okay."

The obvious shyness in his voice makes me smile as I back away and head into the bathroom where I strip down and brush my teeth. Wash my hands and face. Then pause on my way out, glancing at my cock in the mirror. Still working on getting hard like the bitch he is.

But that's not what makes me pause. I can't just crawl into bed naked with Caulder. That's very clearly crossing a lot of lines. Clothes are also out for multiple reasons, but the two biggest are you just don't wear street clothes in bed and the second is that I get tangled in them and feel like I'm being restrained and choked.

Underwear it is, I guess. I step back into my boxer briefs, arrange my dick so it's in the least offensive position I can manage. Then shut off the light before I open the door, and step out of the bathroom. I'm plunged into darkness, so I wait for my eyes to adjust before walking across the room.

I grab the remote from the TV table on the way and climb into bed on the opposite side as Caulder. He doesn't move. I don't even hear him breathing.

I'm wide awake. Unsurprising. I'm far too aware that Caulder is just feet away from me. I turn my head so I can look at him and grin when I see that he has the blankets tucked up under his chin. His eyes are wide open, too. I can see the reflection of the outside lights barely touch them.

"Want to watch TV?" I ask.

Caulder sighs like he's been holding his breath. "Yeah, sure."

Bringing up the remote, I turn the television on, then arrange a couple pillows so I'm propped up a little. As I wait for it to come up, I look at Caulder again. He hasn't moved.

"You have fun with your temporary team?" I ask.

He nods, his eyes flickering to mine. "Yeah, they're cool."

"Anyone you'd already known?"

"In passing, yeah."

"No past teammates?"

Caulder shrugs and shakes his head. "No. I mean, besides Ethan. You have one of our previous teammates. Mattias J?nsson. He was traded for Jakub."

"Right," I say, sitting up a little. "He's cool."

Finally, Caulder smiles a little. "He is. We're hoping to catch up with him at some point this weekend."

I begin flipping through channels, waiting for each program to come on or the information to load. It seems we get one or the other first, but not always the same from channel to channel. I settle on what appears to be a movie and set the remote between us on the bed.

"This your first All-Star?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yep. I was invited one other time a couple years ago but my grandfather was sick; I had to turn it down so I could be there in case he passed."

"Did he?"

"No. Not then. He has since from the same illness, but I'm glad I went home then. He was more lucid and himself for the days I was there than he had been in years. It was the right decision to skip All-Star, though I was bummed at the time."

"I'm sorry he passed."

"Eh. I miss him, but he was sick for a very long time. It's nice to know he's no longer suffering. More than anything, it's a relief, even as heartbreaking as it is that he's gone."

Caulder nods. "My parents were really young when they had me, so I haven't had to watch someone I love die yet. Although now that everyone's getting older, I anticipate that I'll no longer be so lucky in the next decade. My grandmother was just diagnosed with the start of Alzheimer's."

"Oh, that sucks. Sorry, man."

He smiles lightly. "It hasn't been horrible yet. She was only diagnosed a month ago and there's some experimental treatment that she's going through—which sounds terrifying, though I'm aware that all treatments are experimental in the beginning. So far there's still only moments here and there."

"Out of all the diseases and shit in the world, anything having to do with memory seems like one of the cruelest. You live an entire lifetime and then suddenly, you don't know who surrounds you. Where you are, who you are. Sometimes you don't know how to talk or walk or anything. And there's no true treatments."

"Yeah."

I glance at him and wince. "Sorry. That's not the kind of thing you should be thinking about when you just told me about your grandmother. Let's ignore I said that."

He laughs quietly.

"How about something more lighthearted? How's the snow in Buffalo?"

His laughter is louder this time and I love the sound. It makes me smile and I find myself grinning at him. He's shifted a little closer to me now, his body angled in my direction as we talk. There's still an ocean between us, but I don't get the impression he's hanging off the side of the bed anymore.

"Not bad right now," he says. "That can change in an instant, but when I left, the sky was clear and the snow was contained."

"Contained. Nice."

"That's the most you can do. Make mountains and hope that all the salt mixed in with it doesn't kill the ground or pollute the lake when the mountain melts."

I shake my head. "You'd think with all the technology in the world, we'd have a better way of managing snow."

"I'm sure there are a lot better ways, but salting is the cheapest, so that's what cities use."

"Isn't that the truth."

We're quiet for a minute, our attention moving to the television. I don't know what we're watching. The guy is in a hall, throwing open doors as he storms on. He looks a little… crazy. Is he on a murdering spree? Is he going to find a dead body? Is he looking for his child? What's going on right now?

"Are you familiar with this movie?" I ask.

Caulder shakes his head. "No idea what this is."

The question of what he's looking for is finally answered. I want to celebrate for him when he finds the girl that he was obviously desperate to locate, but then they start making out. Heavily. Groping as clothes start coming off.

And that's the end of this movie. I sit up to reach for the remote as sexy sounds start filling the room from the television. A glance at Caulder tells me that he definitely doesn't want to watch this with me right now either.

However, the remote is being evasive. We've barely moved but, apparently, we've shifted enough that the blankets have now eaten the remote. Caulder sits up now too, pulling the blankets up to look under them.

"Remotes need bells," I mutter, skin heating as the sounds get louder. From both characters on the screen. "Since when is full on sex allowed in movies on American TV?"

He huffs, shifting to reach under the pillows between us. It's a particularly long moan from the guy that makes my blood burn and my dick fill. I shudder, the sensation moving down my body in a wave. The girl's sounds do nothing for me except that they're sexy sounds right now and that alone, especially when I'm not watching the female bits, has a way of heightening the mood.

I twist, ready to get off the bed and manually turn off the television, when our shoulders bump together. Caulder's head shifts at the same time mine does and we're staring at each other. Inches apart, so I can feel his breath on my lips.

He swallows. Eyes dropping. Before I can think better of it, I lean forward and press my mouth to his.