* * *
I’M BARELY AWAKE by the time Cauler and Dorian wrap it up for the night. Barbie fell asleep an hour ago, and Nova took to messaging me instead about how perfect he is, which is just plain weird when I can see him sleeping with his hand halfway down his pants and his mouth wide-open just across the room from me.
“Yeah, so, with this outline we could probably turn this thing in early,” Dorian says as he gets his books and papers together. “Get that extra credit, boiiii.”
“We can work on it after the game tomorrow,” Cauler says. He zips his backpack and slings it over his shoulder and doesn’t look at me.
“Good idea, dude. Party without guilt after.”
I have YouTube open in front of me and piles of homework to do and I feel like absolute garbage. These guys all have a future in the NHL, just like me. They still take college seriously. They’re kind of overachievers about it, really.
Dorian shakes Barbie awake. “Get out of here, flojo. Don’t you have homework to do?”
Barbie yawns, stretching both arms above his head. “I’m all caught up. See ya, Terzo.”
“Bye.”
Cauler doesn’t acknowledge me as he walks out, which is probably, definitely for the best, but it still feels like a punch to the gut.
“Y’know you guys don’t have to hide around me and Barbie, right?” Dorian says when the door closes. “We’re not assholes.”
“We’re not hiding anything,” I mumble.
“Sure,” he says, drawing it out and rolling his eyes as he turns toward his bed.
My phone buzzes. I look at it, expecting another text from Nova.
It’s Cauler.
Jaysen: Can we talk
Laundry room?
I take a deep breath. Tap my phone against my forehead a few times. My stomach doesn’t come with me when I stand up.
“Going to the bathroom,” I say.
Dorian doesn’t even look up as he says, “Think of me.”
I hesitate on my way to the door, blinking at him for a moment before shaking my head and coming back with “I always do.”
I feel sick with anxiety on my way down the stairs.
Can we talk.
The possibilities of what he’s gonna say are so immense and terrifying I’ll probably go into cardiac arrest if I try to grasp on to one.
I hesitate at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement. I can hear the TV in the lounge, just loud enough to know someone’s watching Say Yes to the Dress. And no, it’s not my sisters’ or Nova’s fault I know that.
I tiptoe down a few stairs and crouch till I can see two girls huddled in the corners of the couch with laptops in their laps, not paying any attention to the stairs or the laundry room. I quietly make my way down the rest of the way and into the room immediately to the right, easing the door closed behind me.
I keep one hand on the knob and the other flat against the wood for a moment, listening. The sound of the TV is muted through the door, but there’s no sign of movement in the lounge. I let out a heavy sigh and rest my forehead against the door for a moment before turning around.
Cauler’s leaning against a stack of washing machines, arms and ankles crossed, not looking at me. I lean against the door with my hands behind my back and wait. Looking him up and down, the first thing I notice is that he’s not chewing any gum. His jaw is clenched tight and he keeps swallowing like he’s nervous, which just makes me even more uneasy. My mouth dries out and then I have to swallow, too.
I watch him stare at his own feet, the rushing water of a rinse cycle droning in the background for a solid minute before I can’t take it anymore.
“You okay?” I ask.
He startles like he forgot I was here. He uncrosses his legs and shifts his weight and my nerves are crackling. Is he about to cut me out?
“Yeah, just…” He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale says, “Where do we go from here, Terzo?”
Oh. That was not what I was expecting. Like, at all.
My breath is audibly unsteady, completely outing the nerves I’d rather keep hidden. This asshole has totally ruined me. Eighteen years and no one could ever figure out who I really was. A couple months on a team with Jaysen Caulfield and I can’t hide for shit.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Cauler scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. I want to know where we stand.”
“And it’s all on me?”
He pulls both hands to his chest and leans forward into his words. “I know what I want. I need to know what page you’re on.”
With two sentences, he’s pushed me to the cliff’s edge. I can either turn around and walk away, keep Cauler at the distance he should’ve been this whole time, protect myself and my name and my future. Or I could let myself fall, just a little, and hope there’s a branch to catch myself on before I hit the rocks.
Or I could do neither. Just keep doing what we’re doing, keep emotions out of it, and go our separate ways in May.
I take a step forward. Scrub a hand over my mouth, keeping my eyes locked on his. He straightens up and lowers his arms. I back him up against the washers just like he backed me up against the boards. Wrap an arm around the back of his neck and pull him down to me.
And I kiss him.
Hard.
Hard enough to make him feel all the anger and jealousy and want I’ve held for him for years. Hard enough that it hurts when our teeth clack together.
His arms slip around my waist and pull me tight against him, curving my spine when he leans farther into me. I bite his lip, feel his piercing between my teeth, and his tongue catches my own.
He pushes a hand into my hair and pulls me back with a fistful of it, just enough that he can say, “I hate you.”
“Prove it.”
I make this startled, totally not sexy sound when he hooks his elbows under my knees and lifts me right off my feet, and god, for once in my life I am thankful for my height. He sets me down on the folding table, pressed up against a pile of clothes someone must’ve pulled out of the washer and dumped here. They’re cold and damp against my back, but that’s the last thing on my mind when Cauler kisses me again.
I’ve given him a total non-answer. I just gotta keep him distracted enough that he doesn’t question it.
FOURTEEN
People aren’t letting go of this rivalry thing.
There’s this hilarious tweet where someone got a picture of me right after sniffing smelling salts, so I’m making this totally disgusted face, and I just happened to be looking at Cauler at that exact moment. Fans are having a field day with that one.
I send it to him. More fuel for our internet rivalry.
My family’s coming to my and Delilah’s game this Saturday. It’ll be the first time I’ve been with all of them at once in forever, and all I can think about is coming out to them. Social media is still all over Aaron Johansson coming out, and I’m still stuck on Delilah calling me hetero. If I’m gonna live a lie the rest of my life for the sake of hockey, I can at least be real with my sisters.
I stay up the night before the game agonizing over it and scrolling through Twitter till I find another picture of me and Cauler. He’s got a fistful of my jersey, as he tends to, bent down so our cages are pressed together, looking like he’s bitching at me when really we were probably talking about some sick play he wanted to try.
I send that one to him, too, and he responds with:
Jaysen: Big party after the game tomorrow
Ready to get drunk and tolerable again?
Mickey: Depends how the game goes
If i need to drink myself into a coma or not
Jaysen: Bro.
This is gonna be a rout
The eagles goalie is the definition of a sieve
So get ready to drink for fun.
He stays up with me most of the night, talking about everything and nothing.
The kind of talking people do at the start of relationships.
When he finally falls asleep and it’s just me alone in the dark, it’s not only coming out I’m agonizing over. Now it’s him, too.
* * *
COACH STOPS IN his tracks when he sees me at our team breakfast in the players’ lounge. “You sick, James?”
“No.”