Jesse

We skate out to play our first real game of the season against Yale, still pumped on our win over Toronto in the exhibition and feeling confident of our chances in this year’s ECAC conference. Our record against Yale is good, especially at home, but Coach reminded us before the game not to get complacent. If we want this, we have to win it, they’re not going to just hand it to us.

When I first played hockey against guys from schools like Yale and Harvard, I had to stop myself from thinking about them as rich assholes. It took a long time to see myself as being in the same league as them, though I literally am. It doesn’t matter why I’m here or how, I wear the well-known logo of an Ivy League school on my jersey and I’m proud to represent them.

There’s something about those Yale guys in a shade of blue that is literally called Yale Blue though. I just love beating them, maybe even more than I love beating anyone else.

Knowing Nate is in the crowd only makes me more determined to win. Teaching a rookie how to give blow jobs has been more fun than I thought it would be and Nate is improving like a champ. If there was a draft for blow jobs, he’d definitely make it. He’s not going to be nominated for the Hobey Baker or anything yet, but he’s getting there.

Yale bring their A-game and it’s a scramble to keep the score tied at 1-1 at the end of the first. I’m too focussed on the game to be thinking about anyone in particular in the crowd, but as they prepare the ice for the second period, I look up into the stands and find Nate sitting with his parents. I give him a little smile, but I don’t know if he can make it out from all the way out there.

When we get back out and Petroski screams at us from the net, me and Clarke defend with everything we have, giving our boys a chance at the other end to get a couple in and the game ends 3-1.

When Coach comes into the locker room, we’re so distracted celebrating, we don’t notice him until he shouts for us to be quiet. The room falls silent.

“You did good out there tonight,” he says.

The guys cheer.

“Now I need two volunteers to come with me to a kid’s outreach programme out in New Jersey next weekend.”

Silence.

Jones puts his hand up, “I’ll go Coach.”

“Good, one more.”

“I’ll go.”

Why did I do that? I could have spent that time in bed with Nate. But it’s a kid’s outreach programme, and I love seeing the enthusiasm those little kids have for hockey. It reminds me of when hockey was just fun and nothing else.

“Good, Jones and Engels, meet me here at 9am sharp Saturday morning.”

Jones slaps me on the shoulder and I guess it won’t be so bad. I can always see Nate when I get back.

I should really go to O’Neil’s with the guys tonight, I can’t remember the last time I hung out with them since I started this thing up with Nate. But all I want to do is see Nate.

When I text him, he tells me his mom and dad are home tonight anyway, so he’ll see me some other time.

I’m so bad at reading when someone’s actually pissed, but pretending they’re not. I tell myself to accept what Nate is saying and let him tell me if he’s pissed. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to play games.

O’Neil’s is crowded and people keep buying us drinks and congratulating us on kicking Yale’s asses. I try to drink slowly, not wanting to get too drunk in case Nate can squeeze an hour out of studying tomorrow. I don’t want to be hungover for what I’ve got planned for him next.

But people keep putting new drinks down in front of me and telling me to drink.

This beautiful girl is sitting next to me, talking about her sociology research and playing with her earring.

“I like your tooth,” she says.

“What?”

I shout over the noise.

“Your chipped tooth, it’s cute.”

“Oh, thanks.”

I know she’s waiting for me to say something, some line maybe, I don’t know, but I’m not interested, at all. I finish the beer in front of me and step out of O’Neil’s into the cold. Fuck it feels good to be away from there.

That girl was beautiful, but I wasn’t interested. And it wasn’t just because I only have Nate on my mind right now. I’ve told myself I’m only interested in sex with men, but how interested in sex with women have I been? So having sex with a girl isn’t gross or terrible, but does it feel the way it does when I’m with a guy?

I text Nate and ask if I can call him, because I know he’s the only one who might understand.

He answers on the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m gay.”

“Okay?”

“I mean, not bi, like, gay.”

There’s a short silence and then he asks, “do you like having sex with girls?”

“Yeah, but… not as much as I like having sex with guys, it’s not supposed to be like that right?”

“Sexuality is a spectrum, I think it just depends if you like having sex with girls, or if you just don’t hate it. If you just don’t hate it, then yeah, I guess you’re a gay guy who’s a little closer to the bi spectrum than some others.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I never thought about I like that before. You’re so smart.”

Nate laughs, “are you drunk?”

“No, a little. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. ?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried about being gay?”

I think about it, “no, not really, I mean, yeah, but only when I think about telling my dad, and maybe the guys on the team. And because I really wanna get married and have kids one day.”

“Gay men do all that stuff. And you know Harrison wouldn’t let anyone give you shit for it right?”

“Because you’re gay?”

“Not just that. I know he can be an asshole sometimes, but when I came out, he was so cool about it. My mom and dad just sat there staring at me, and Harrison said, ‘great, more girls for me, hurry up and pass the potatoes’.”

I laugh. I see Jones as our captain, who I’m a little scared of because he has authority over me and can be a hard-ass sometimes. And because he’s rich, and got drafted into the NHL and is just using the NCAA as a training camp for some big shiny future as a professional athlete. It’s weird to think of him as a protective big brother. It doesn’t bode well for me if he ever finds out what I’ve been doing with Nate.

“It’ll be okay,”

Nate says.

I sigh. “Thanks.”

“Do you wanna come over and watch a movie or something? My mom and dad are here, but they won't mind.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you want me to.”

“Yes, I want you to.”

“Okay, then I’ll come.”

Nate’s mom answers the door in one of those super-soft cardigans that probably cost a fortune, even though she only wears it inside the house.

Nate must have told her I was coming over, because she lets me in without asking why I’m there.

Nate comes downstairs in his bare feet and a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I have to rearrange my expression so his mom doesn’t notice that I’m practically drooling.

“We’re just gonna study in my room,” he says.

His mom gives me a weird look, but keeps smiling. I probably stink of beer right now.

“Have fun,” she says.

I follow Nate up the stairs and when he pulls the stairs to the attic up, I want to ask him if he thinks his mom is suspicious, but I change my mind. Why worry him? Plus, I don’t want him to put an end to this, whatever ‘this’ is.

“What do you want to watch?”

he asks, “my mom’s got a login for like every streaming service, she’s a TV junkie, so if you like it, she’s probably got it.”

I smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, you look good in sweats, that’s all.”

Nate drops his eyes and blushes a little.

“Take your pants off,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t want you sitting on my bed in jeans you’ve sat in a bar in.”

“Oh, what if your mom comes up?”

“She won’t.”

I take my jeans off and Nate arranges pillows and cushions on the bed for us to sit against. He turns the lights off, except a lamp on his bedside table, and we settle in with the laptop on a cushion between us.

“What’s your favourite movie?” he asks.

The one that springs to mind makes me laugh.

“What?”

“Have you heard of Mermaids?”

“No, who’s in it?”

“Cher.”

Nate presses his lips together, but the laugh comes out anyway.

“You really love Cher don’t you?”

“No, it’s just a good movie, Sam used to watch it like ten times a day when we were growing up, and the music’s good.”

“Okay, Mermaids.”

Nate finds it on one of the streaming services and sets it up.

“What do you tell your hockey buddies your favourite movie is?”

“Welcome to the Punch.”

“Is that real?”

“Yup.”

“Who’s in it?”

“James McAvoy.”

He Googles it.

“I can’t believe you don’t believe me.”

“It is real, wow.”

“it’s actually really good.”

“It only has a 46% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.”

“Don’t listen to them, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Do you just have a crush on James McAvoy?”

“No, he’s not my type.”

Nate smiles and blushes before pressing play on the movie.

As soon as it starts, it takes me back to sitting on the living room floor with Sam eating those miniature candy bars they’d have on sale at Walmart after Halloween. Sam would always get up to do the dance when they sang The Shoop Shoop Song, and the one time my dad caught me doing it, he slapped me round the head and told me to never let him catch me doing anything like that again.

I don’t realise Nate’s looking at me until he asks if I’m okay.

“Yeah,”

I think about leaving it there, but I trust him, and the thought of talking about this shit is scary, but I know I need to, “I think I told myself I couldn’t be gay because of what my dad would think about it. But the more I think about it, the more obvious it was.”

“Because of the Cher thing?”

I snort, “not that.”

“Sorry, I was kidding.”

“I know.”

I must fall asleep while the movie is still on. When I open my eyes, the credits are rolling and Nate’s warm arm is pressed against mine.

“I thought that was your favourite movie?”

he looks down at me, grinning.

“I’ve seen it like a thousand times, and I had a few beers. Did you like it?”

“Yeah, you’ll make a Cher fan of me yet.”

I snort. “You liked her already, don’t lie. Everybody loves Cher.”

I yawn, my whole body begging to be stretched. As soon as I’ve finished, Nate kisses me. My mouth tastes sour and I pull away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“There’s a spare in my bathroom.”

The last time I was in this bathroom, nothing had even happened between me and Nate and I was shy about being naked in his shower. Is that when it started?

When he saw me in a towel? I try not to think about what he really sees in me as I unpack a new toothbrush and squeeze out some toothpaste.

All of Nate’s things look expensive. The brands I don’t even bother looking at at the drug store just casually sitting there on the sink.

I ask myself what I’m doing here, then I go into the bedroom and Nate smiles at me and I stop asking.