Thirteen

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ATTY

I'm notnew to jockstraps. As an athlete, they're just par for the course. However, I never wear them throughout the day. I'm not sure if it's because I'm conscious of it that I feel slightly uncomfortable or if they're just uncomfortable.

My junk feels fine, don't get me wrong. I have always liked support in the front. It's my bare ass against my pants that has me distracted. I keep thinking that everyone can tell my ass is commando right now. It makes me very self-conscious.

Especially since we're heading to the movies. I'm going to sit through a movie in a jockstrap. The only thing separating my naked ass from a seat with who knows what stained on it is a thin layer of jean material.

This is not going to be a comfortable movie.

It's just Winslow, Hugo, and me today. Noah is on his gay friend cruise—something that Hugo is completely bummed he's being left out of, despite not being gay. And Egon has flown across the country to visit Adak, his husband's uncle.

"It's kind of weird that it's just three of us again," Hugo says as we wait in line at the concession stand. "Been a while, huh?"

Winslow nods. "Yep. But they'll be back before you know it."

Hugo sighs. He's a big softie. His friends are his favorite things in life. I love that about him.

Just as we're getting to the front, my phone rings in my pocket. I already have it set to silent, so it's the constant buzz that catches my attention. Pulling it out, I see Toby's name on my screen. My stomach flips.

"I need to take this. I'll find you if you want to go ahead."

"We can wait," Hugo tells me.

They follow me from the line and then pause as I keep walking to answer. "Hey," I greet, trying to contain my smile.

There's a subtle hesitation before Toby answers. I can feel it more than hear it. "Hi," he responds, and there's something in his tone that makes me nervous. "Are you busy?"

I glance at my friends. "Is everything all right?"

His inhale sounds loud in my ear, though I'm sure it's not. "I kind of need to talk to you. Can you come over?"

"Yeah. When?"

"Now."

Yep, something's wrong. My heart begins to race and I can't fathom what it could possibly be. Nerves make my shoulders tense. "Okay. I'll be there in like fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Side door." He hangs up and I'm left staring at my phone.

He's going to break up with me. Not that we're in a relationship. Why does it already feel so devastating?!

"What happened?" Winslow asks as I approach.

Shaking my head, I answer, "I have to bail. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, man. Everything okay?"

I'm not sure, so I just shrug. "I'll talk to you later. Sorry."

Hugo, the big teddy bear, gives me a tight hug that manages to make me smile and I leave them. All the while, my head is racing with what it might be. Maybe he believes that wedding/honeymoon bullshit that's been spreading online. Which is lame because I've clearly been here. With him.

Obviously, he's not pregnant. It's a weird feeling knowing I don't have to worry about that right now. Even without a condom, I wouldn't have to. That's a strange freedom to have.

But it could still be sex-related. Disease? I'm confident he's always worn a condom. Even if they're not infinitely effective…

I'm nearly coming out of my skin by the time I pull up to the side of the house he lives in with his friends. I bypass the front door and head straight for the side. He's waiting for me, and the look on his face makes me more nervous. He studies my face for a second before dropping his eyes and not meeting mine again.

We don't speak as I follow him up the back stairs and into his bedroom. Even when the door is shut and locked, he doesn't look at me.

"What happened?" I ask.

Toby takes a breath and then finally faces me. "Hector Atlas?"

I frown and nod. "Yeah?"

"You're seriously Hector Atlas?"

Oh… He didn't know. Well… that's surprising. "Yes. I can show you my license if you want."

"You're supposed to be married to Marie Herschal and on your honeymoon right now. You're straight. Why didn't you tell me you're Hector fucking Atlas? Why did you tell me your name is Atty? What are you doing here?!"

"I'm not marrying Marie and never was. We've never actually been engaged."

"But everyone says?—"

"I don't care what everyone says, Toby. I'm telling you, we're not getting married. We're not together."

"But you're going to get back together with her. You always do."

For a minute, I just stare at him. I'm not entirely sure what he's upset about. I'm pretty confident he knows I'm not with her.

I pull out my phone and put it on speaker as I dial Marie. Toby watches, his eyes locked on mine. I'm reminded of the day we met, when we couldn't look away from each other. Except, this is a very different feeling.

"Hey, Atty," Marie says. "Should I be congratulating you on our marriage and honeymoon pictures that were taken three years ago?"

I huff. "Marie."

"Yes," she sasses, laughing.

"When did we break up?"

There's a pause before she answers. "Six months ago. Uh… seven months now. Why?"

"And why did we break up?" I keep my eyes locked on Toby's, making sure he's listening. His gaze keeps dropping to the phone. I turn it so he can see that I've dialed Marie. It's her on the other end of the line. The name on the screen and her picture say so.

Another pause, but I think she's figured out that I need her to say these words for a reason. Even if she doesn't understand what that reason is. "Because we were never meant to be together," she says with a sigh. "We don't love each other like that and we just never will."

"We're through. For good. Yeah?"

"Yes. The last breakup was final, Atty."

I nod. "Thanks. Talk to you later."

"Good. Because I'm going to need an explanation for this call. Take care." She hangs up before I can respond.

Toby is silent as he stares at me. When he continues not to speak, I go back to his list of questions. "I'm not marrying Marie," I insist again. "I actually thought you knew who I was. Your post the other day—wingmen to watch out for next season—I thought you were being generous to me because we're… doing this. I had no idea you didn't know who I was. I told you my name is Atty because that's what my friends call me. Atty—short for Atlas, I guess. It's been a private nickname since I was a kid. And I guess this just felt private when we met, so I gave you that name instead of Hector. As far as why I'm here… because you called me sounding weird and asked me to come over. So here I am."

"You skipped a question," he says, his voice quiet. He hasn't moved at all.

"Yes, because I don't truly have a rebuttal for that; except I think maybe I'm not as straight as I was before I saw you. I've kind of been ignoring the sexuality thing right now because it feels really big and all I really want to do is enjoy this."

A beat passes.

"Toby, I'm sorry," I say. "I truly didn't mean to lie to you. I really did think you knew. And I promise, I'm not getting back together with Marie."

"You've been quoted as saying that before."

"No. People have claimed I've said that before," I tell him. "The number of times I've actually spoken to anyone outside of my close friends about Marie can be counted on one hand, Toby. I promise you, most of what I've been quoted saying is complete bullshit."

He takes a breath and nods. Just a single jerky bob of his head.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

He laughs and covers his face. "I feel stupid more than anything," Toby mutters. "I mean, I've spent the last decade of my life submerged in all things hockey because I love the sport. And yet, I've had you in my fucking bed and didn't know! I've followed your career since you were drafted, Atty. I feel like an idiot."

I take a cautious step toward him and touch his hand. His eyes raise to mine and I can see it. He really does feel stupid. "Can I admit something to you?" Toby nods. "Marie has been a burden I've carried for a long time. It's not just the press and paparazzi that expect us to be together. It's our parents. Everyone in the town we grew up in. Our friends, mutual and personal, from childhood. Most of the time when we got back together, it was because the forces around us became too much, and we gave in. Not because we loved each other or even because we wanted to be together. But because it was easy. Familiar. We didn't have to try."

"That's kind of sad," he says.

My eyes close as I laugh, letting my head fall back on my shoulders. "It is sad. For both of us. We've lost a lot of time over the last fifteen years to each other when we should have had a conversation eons ago. When we finally did talk it out, it was like a fucking weight lifted from my shoulders. One I didn't know I was carrying. It felt like I was shedding an old skin. It was probably then that I started throwing out anything that kept me tied to that version of me. Clothes that I hadn't worn in years. Silly things I kept. Fuck, I even moved from my house into a new one where Marie had never been. She was not there, muddying the space with her memories or… it was just a clean slate. A breath of fresh air."

"You kind of sound like you hate her," Toby says.

"No," I insist, laughing. "No. But like I said, she's easy. She's just… like your worn sweater. You keep it because it's comfortable and fits you just right. Or so you think. Leaving that part of my life behind and all the reminders and temptations of taking the easy way out of life has been a liberation that I can't even describe. I needed a place that was all my own. I didn't get back together with Marie because I loved her. Not once. The reasons are far less honorable."

"What are they?"

To get this out, I close my eyes. "I was lonely. I wanted to feel important to someone. Needed. Valued. To come home to someone and pretend they'd thought about me all day, even when I hadn't thought about them. I want a love story, a family and a future. I want… a fairy tale. Marie was never going to be that fairy tale, but I kept telling myself I didn't want to wait for my happily ever after and that maybe I was being too… picky. I could make a life with Marie. We could get married and have kids."

"That really is sad," he says.

"Yes. And when I got discouraged about the girls I was meeting, Marie was always that familiar sweater."

Toby sighs. Finally, his shoulders relax.

"All this to say that in ridding myself of all the easy parts of my past that might tempt me to once again not put any effort into my own destiny, I thought it was time to shave. Cut my hair. I was essentially walking away from my old life. A past self. And I'd had that look since I hit puberty. It was the last hurdle to cross. And to hold myself accountable and keep my courage, I made a bet with my friends that I couldn't win. If we didn't make the Stanley Cup, I was going to shave."

Toby burst out laughing. "L.A. lost their chance a long time ago!"

"I know," I say, grinning. "As I said, I needed a guarantee and someone there to hold me accountable. We didn't make it. And my friends made sure I held up my end of the bet."

"And no one recognizes you," Toby says.

I nod. "Exactly. I've been enjoying the freedom of that. Cameras don't pop up in the middle of the supermarket. There aren't any new photos of me pumping gas. I'm just the rando guy hanging around the hockey pros."

"And when they couldn't find you, they made up some shit about why you disappeared," Toby says and finally, he looks like he's back to himself. Not spooked. Or feeling like I lied to him. "Someone figured you out."

"Yeah?"

"There's a pic of you running with the others online," he tells me. "Though I looked it up again while I waited for you to get here and the comments were calling bullshit on the photo, stating that's not you at all. Some are even citing the article that states you're on your honeymoon."

"I'll set them right if you want me to," I promise, surprising myself. I'm enjoying this anonymity. But I kind of want to keep seeing Toby. If me clearing the air will make him more comfortable, I'll do it.

Toby shakes his head and I enjoy the smile he gives me. "No, but thanks. I understand your reasons. I believe you about… all of it."

"Good. I seriously thought you knew."

"I didn't. And just so we're clear, you don't get special favor in my hockey commentary because you've had my dick in your ass, baby girl."

My skin warms at his words. "I'm glad to hear that. And to know that you genuinely think that I'm going to improve my game next season."

Finally, finally, Toby closes the distance between us. With a tight grip of my hair at the back of my head, he pulls my mouth to his and kisses me. I groan, wrapping my arm around his waist.

"Can I show you something?" I ask before he can render me stupid speechless.

Toby nods. "I don't need to see your license. I believe you."

I kiss his lips once more. "I know. Thank you. But that's not what I want to show you." As much as I don't want to be anywhere other than pressed to him, I back away and then reach for my pants.

"I've seen your junk, baby," Toby teases. "I'm quite fond of what you're packing."

I snort and don't answer as I undo my jeans and then let them drop. Gathering my shirt, I pull it up my stomach and then twist so he can see my bare ass.

His expression turns almost predatory and fuck if my dick isn't nearly instantly hard. My entire body heats like someone has just turned a furnace on under my feet.

"Sweet fuck," Toby mutters. "We're going to pretend we've just had a fight and enjoy some very hot makeup sex right now, Atty."

"Good. I've hated that you were upset with me," I simper, which isn't as pretend as it might have been.

"Very upset," he mutters as he moves closer.

Chills travel down my spine. Fuck, I can't wait until his hands are on me!