15. Hunter

Tyler was right about the high of a game. Whoops and hollers reverberated off the walls as we walked down the corridor to the lockers, men patting each other on the back and smacking asses.

Aussie held the team together in that game. We won, but only just. That last shot on goal was magic, and it nearly didn't happen because of Colton.

Hewanted that shot. Something he neglected to tell his team: there was a scout in the bleachers today. One who had his eye on Justin Chisneck. He wanted to show up Justin, but only succeeded in making himself look like a fool. I don't know why that made me feel good—maybe something to do with his digs at Tyler. But I was eager to celebrate, eager to keep that high going. Taunting Tyler had brought that spark back. He pretended to hate it, but I saw that glimmer in his eye. It's exactly what caused him to be such a menace on the ice. There was nothing hotter than watching him read the plays, and fuck, did he read that play.

I stood shoulder to shoulder with him at his locker, offering a congratulatory grin. "You showed them, baby," I teased with a playful lilt.

He whipped his head around, eyes wide. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Didn't he!" Mouse whacked his shoulder, not even batting an eye at the use of the term. We were hockey boys, after all, and our locker room banter often included enthusiastic shouts of phrases a far cry from anything we'd say in the bedroom.

My baby gay, however, was cautious, not wanting to draw attention to us. I observed his shoulders tense briefly but then relaxed as he realized the nature of my comment.

Aussie shrugged. "The team showed them. You guys worked hard on the defense, and I saw a couple of you guys really strike off and close in on those Yale forwards. Your energy was truly something to be proud of."

I glanced at Colton, not missing the way his jaw ticked. "Everyone worked hard, though that last play could have gone really wrong. Graves, you were supposed to be on my wing. If you had my back, I would have had my shot. That's what we practiced."

"That's what we practiced if they played how we expected them to—which they didn't. Aussie had the perfect opening. Backing him up was the better option, and it worked. What nearly fucked it up was your hesitation."

Coach picked that precise moment to walk through the door. "Hunt's right, if the defense weren't solely focused on you, we would have missed that goal. Aussie was the one who saw that weakness in the net. I'm proud of how you all played today. I can see huge improvements with your footwork. If we keep this up, we'll kick some Harvard ass next week. Now, don't do anything silly tonight. I want you well rested for Monday's skate time. "

Colton didn't retaliate. Instead, he smiled and said "Yes, Coach," corralled everyone into the showers.

As we dressed to leave, I watched as every single teammate patted Aus on the back and said something to the tune of, "You'd better be celebrating tonight." To which they got a "maybe" or "I'll think about it," in response.

I made a point to match his pace as we left. My intention was clear: to catch some alone time with him and—hopefully—convince him to spend just one more night together.

Though the moment we walked out, Cal sidled up to Tyler's side. "Tyler, you're coming out with me tonight. My ex is going to be at the party and I need him to see I am not hung up on him cheating on me with Sir Punky Pierced Dick." Tyler groaned while I somehow managed to forget how to breathe and choked on my own spit.

"I'm sorry; Sir Punky Pierced Dick?" I could barely say it with a straight face.

Cal nodded, not bothered in the slightest about the pierced dick in the room. "Yeah, my ex decided to try a new stick. Though he took the test drive wrong—what a shame. That stick was meant for a power bottom but alas, Nathan's a greedy top."

I coughed again, barely covering the laugh that wanted to burst free.

"Can we not talk about the logistics of where sticks should be going?" Tyler grumbled.

Cal smiled, turning to face him. "What's the fun in that? I like making you squirm. It's cute making a baby gay all flustered. One of these days I'll break you right out of that shell."

Tyler looked around the hall and seeing that it was only us said, "It'll be like waiting for rain in a drought man: not going to happen. And I am not cute."

Cal spun around to walk backward, holding his fingers up. "You are a little bit cute, right Hunter?"

I bit back my smile. I was about to reply when Tyler lunged forward, grabbing Cal's face and tilting it into the light. "What the fuck happened to your face?"

The sudden protectiveness of his voice surprised me. I saw the gash on the right side of Cal's head, held together by stitches and tape.

"Nah, see? You're cute," Cal cooed jokingly, but Tyler was having none of it.

"Cal, what the fuck happened?"

Cal sighed. "Sabrina was desperate to try a triple twist lift in our routine. Let's just say my face caught the third twist."

Tyler and I both flinched. "Are you okay?" Tyler took a step back and searched Cal's features. His voice was soft, sincere. I got that same pang in my chest that hit me when I saw them leaving the coffee shop.

You are not jealous; you are not jealous.

"I'm fine. I was more pissed at her yelling at me. Apparently, I didn't throw her high enough—she had some choice words. She said I need to take a few days to ‘beef' up otherwise she was going to find a new partner."

"Sounds like a bitch if you ask me," I offered. "And it sounds like you need a good night out. I'll be your wingman--I know of a few guys who swing your way."

Tyler rolled his eyes. Cal, on the other hand, lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thanks, Hunt!" He then sauntered up to my side and not-so-subtly whispered, "but if you want the baby gay to be in your bed tonight, maybe don't mention all the guys you know that swing my way."

Damn it.