The Inside Edge, page 10
“It’s all part of the IntelliSafe system,” Devon said of the electric seat belts, which would retract if the car sensed an imminent collision but would then revert to normal if the collision were avoided. “There’s even an inflatable curtain in the roof in the event of a rollover accident. I wanted something family-friendly.”
Nate wanted kids too, but this was enough to have him debating opening the door and taking his chances. “Modern technology is amazing,” he offered instead.
“Oh yeah. And if you saw the things I see in the OR—safety is so important.” He shook his head as he signaled well in advance of the left turn his GPS was telling him to take. “I can’t believe you played hockey professionally. Talk about a dangerous sport.”
“Ah, well,” Nate said. Because hockey was dangerous, but it was also fun, and he loved it, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of agreeing with someone who seemed to be saying he shouldn’t have played. Apparently he had limits. “Sometimes when you love something that much, the risks are worth it. I have a few scars, but I wouldn’t change them.”
Devon didn’t look at him, but then again, he wouldn’t. He had to keep his eyes on the road. “Really?” He sounded surprised, but not in a horrified way. “Hmm. I suppose everyone’s different.”
Wonders never ceased—a real moment of communication, tame as it was. Maybe Nate wasn’t completely hopeless.
Maybe he could invite Devon up to his apartment. His dick had never completely forgotten the way he’d reminisced about his night with Aubrey, and now it was ready for action. He could make this thing work with Devon well enough for one night, couldn’t he? He had faith in his own hotness.
He could do this.
“Well, here we are,” Devon said, pulling into the circle in front of Nate’s building.
Oh my God, who says that. “Ah, thanks.” Shit, now what? How did Nate ask him up? Was it even fair to do that? What if he thought Nate was interested in him for more than just blowing off steam?
“Thank you for the ride,” Nate said automatically and couldn’t make it come out sounding like a double entendre. “And for dinner.”
Devon smiled sincerely. “It was my pleasure. I had a wonderful time.”
Before Nate could think of anything to say to that that wouldn’t come out sounding sarcastic as fuck, Devon leaned across the car and kissed. His. Cheek.
“Me too,” Nate said on autopilot, over the horror track playing on max volume in his brain.
Somehow he managed to say goodbye. He did not have a breakdown in the elevator. He didn’t scream when the apartment door closed behind him.
He did drop his clothes just inside the door and walk naked to the bathroom, where he stepped under the hot spray of the shower and leaned his head against the wall.
Was this just the type of guy he attracted? The kind of guy who’d kiss you goodbye on the cheek after a first date and say they had a nice time? The kind of guy who thought sex was cheap? The kind of guy who thought having sex in the missionary position once a week made for a satisfying sex life?
Nate was not going to date Marty again. Not for anything.
He just hoped Kelly didn’t take it too hard.
THE SECOND week after Winnipeg, work was hell.
The next road game they covered was in Ottawa. Aubrey didn’t understand why they couldn’t cover winter road games in warmer climes. The game and the show itself went off smoothly until midway through the third period, when one of the visiting players had some kind of heart problem on the ice. The medical team brought out the defibrillator. Canadian Tire Centre went completely silent, and the rest of the game was called.
Aubrey and Nate ended up at the hotel bar, not speaking, just sitting with their shoulders touching and drinking very expensive scotch very slowly until the news came through that the player was stable.
Nate slumped on his stool. Aubrey paid their tab and poured him into the elevator, then into his hotel room. Then he went back to his own room and hyperventilated for a few minutes. He’d never meant to sign on for nearly watching someone die during competition.
For the rest of the week, sleep was elusive. Aubrey could tell Nate wasn’t sleeping much either. They both spent a long time in the makeup chair, having the dark circles under their eyes airbrushed away. Jess must have been feeling the strain too, because she was short with everyone, even though their numbers were up more than ever. Nate mentioned that she actually knew the player who’d had the heart attack, but it didn’t make the work environment any more pleasant.
By the time Friday came around, Aubrey needed to unwind. His shoulders were tense, his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. He went to practice with Greg, but his head wasn’t in it.
“Tough week?” Greg asked sympathetically.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aubrey said and performed a viciously ugly triple axel.
He went straight home afterward and marched his ass into the shower, where he went through his full primping routine before giving himself a pep talk in the mirror. “This is just a temporary setback. You are hot.” He smoothed moisturizer onto his face and neck. “You are rich.” A quick but deft application of sixty-dollar mousse to his hair. He reached for the blow dryer. “And you really need to get laid and get it out of your system.”
Still, he only had the energy for so much effort. He squeezed into an exorbitantly priced and very flattering pair of jeans, paired them with a black polo shot through with silver thread, and grabbed his fall jacket from the hall closet. He needed to get laid, but he didn’t need to get fancy about it. He didn’t have the drive to go clubbing, but he knew his neighborhood. The bar down the street would do fine.
It wasn’t even ten yet when he arrived, but the bar was full—always a good sign. Aubrey ordered his usual from the bartender, slid onto one of the last available stools, and glanced around to get his bearings.
Everyone else seemed glued to the television screens, which were all playing the same show. Aubrey ransacked his brain, trying to come up with the name. Love Vote or something like that? Some sort of train-wreck-like mashup of Survivor and The Bachelor, with too many barely clothed straight people and not enough brain cells.
The bartender deposited Aubrey’s beer, and Aubrey caught his eye with a tilt of his head. “What’s up with the screen zombies?”
The bartender rolled his eyes. “It’s bingo night.”
Before Aubrey could fathom a response, the TV program went to commercial. Someone yelled, “Artificially cutting off a sentence to manufacture suspense!” and three other people yelled, “Bingo!”
Aubrey tore his eyes from the screen and realized that nearly everyone had a piece of paper in front of them. He looked back at the bartender. “I want you to know that a piece of me just died.”
“You want a shot to numb the pain?”
Aubrey laughed. “Yeah, sure.” Why not.
If everyone here was too busy playing bingo to notice Aubrey was hot and looking for company, his chances of getting laid had just gone out the window. But maybe someone here had gotten dragged along and wasn’t in it for bad reality-TV bingo on a Friday night. He just had to find the right target.
Aubrey took the shot.
A couple guys seemed to be present without bingo cards, so there was some hope, at least. Though if they were anything like Aubrey, they might give up and leave if bingo went on for long enough.
“Show’s over at ten,” the bartender told him.
All right. Aubrey could wait that long. Meanwhile he nursed his beer, watching the patrons for people who weren’t watching the TV. Wedding band, wedding band, terminal heterosexuality… hm. That one had potential.
Aubrey couldn’t see much. The guy was standing at a high top on the other side of the room. The woman next to him was blocking his face, but he was standing in a classic “come and get it” pose, elbows on the table, ass out. It was a good ass too, high and round and interestingly not marred with any kind of underwear line. Jeans that tight, there was a better than average chance the guy was into men. Target acquired.
Now Aubrey just needed to choose his moment.
The show came back on, and the majority of the patrons returned their attention to the screens, leaving Aubrey’s path to Maximus Gluteus clear. Unfortunately for Aubrey, before he could make his move, Mr. World Squats Champion 2019 left his table and went to the restroom.
Well, fine. Aubrey could intercept, but he didn’t want to be creepy. He gave it sixty seconds and then gave pursuit.
Aubrey lived in a nice neighborhood. The bar was likewise a nice establishment. Even the bathroom had mood lightning.
Captain America’s butt double was the only other person in the room, and he was washing his hands, which was a nice affirmation of Aubrey’s choices. He had his head ducked, so Aubrey still couldn’t see his face, but the rest of him was nice—broad shoulders showed off under a lavender cotton T-shirt that clung lovingly to every muscle. And there were many. Aubrey helped himself to an eyeful, leaning back against the door in a way he knew would show himself off just as well.
“Not into the whole bingo theme, eh?”
The guy’s head came up.
Oh shit, Aubrey knew that haircut.
“Don’t tell me you’re here for Love Vote.”
“To tell you the truth, I was looking for something a little more temporary.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “This place is kind of low-key for you, isn’t it?”
Aubrey felt judged. “I can’t do Lycra and glitter and thirty-dollar cocktails every night.” The conversation was getting away from him. “What are you doing here?”
Nate’s brows went up farther and he looked down at himself, expression pointed. Aubrey could see his nipples. Yeah, it was a stupid question. “Picking the wrong night to try this whole hookup thing, apparently.”
On the other hand, this gave Aubrey the opportunity to ask a question that had been nagging at him all week. “I take it things didn’t go well with Kelly’s cousin.”
Nate’s face shuttered like a seaside villa in a hurricane. “He’s an anesthetist who’s very good at his job.”
Yikes. “My condolences,” Aubrey said, torn. On the one hand, maybe that guy’s loss would be his gain. On the other hand, Aubrey had enough feelings already, and getting them more tangled up in his cohost seemed like a bad idea.
Aubrey only had two hands, so it would’ve been a tie, but when his dick weighed in, the balance tipped pretty obviously in one direction.
“So I was thinking,” he started, just as Nate said, “Do you want to get out of here?”
They both stopped. A flush was creeping up Nate’s cheeks. He flexed his fingers as though he was trying not to fidget.
Aubrey shoved his hands in his pockets to quell the same impulse. This was stupid. He was smooth, God damn it. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t stammer. He did not have trouble getting hot men to go home with him for sex.
Before he could think of what to say next, Nate raised his arm and rubbed at the back of his neck. Aubrey followed the movement with his eyes, tracing the underside of Nate’s arm, the way the fabric pulled against his chest. “I mean,” Nate said, “we obviously came here with the same thing in mind. I know hooking up with someone you’ve already had sex with is sort of the opposite of the point, but on the other hand, that’s twenty minutes I don’t have to spend pretending to give a fuck about some spray-tanned brats in an ugly house.”
Fuck it. If this was all Aubrey was going to get, he was going to take it with both hands and be grateful. “You had me at ‘Do you want to get out of here,’” he said. “Let me pay my tab.”
Chapter Ten
NATE WOKE up five minutes before his alarm more well-rested than he had any right to be, given the activities of the night before. He made himself a breakfast smoothie, took a quick trip down to the gym to run a few miles, then hit the shower and grabbed his go bag from the hall closet.
Aubrey was waiting for their car in front of the building, sipping his abominable canned coffee, but even the thought of that couldn’t dim Nate’s mood. “Morning.”
Aubrey gave him a once-over that made the back of Nate’s neck feel hot. “Good morning. You look relaxed.” He passed Nate a coffee from the kiosk. “Good night last night?”
Oh, is that how we’re playing it? Nate took a sip and wasn’t even surprised when it turned out to be his usual order. He didn’t know whether Aubrey had memorized it or if he’d asked the kiosk guy. “It was all right,” he said casually. “Yours?”
Aubrey’s mouth curved up in a smug smile. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks.”
They made small talk on the way to the airport. They had next weekend off for Thanksgiving, and Nate’s parents were coming to town. Aubrey, being of the (wrong) opinion that Thanksgiving was an October holiday, was considering spending five days in Hawaii.
Nate wondered if he’d find someone to enjoy it with.
That took some of the fun out of his morning. Nate didn’t like to think of himself as selfish, but if Aubrey was going to have sex, he should have it with Nate, who had years of near chastity to make up for.
“Maybe I’ll go visit my parents at Christmas,” Aubrey said with a shrug, sounding like he’d rather rip out his fingernails with pliers.
That derailed Nate’s jealousy spiral. “You really don’t get along with them, huh?”
“It’s less that we don’t get along and more that we’re locked in a continuous cycle of mutual disappointment.” He turned away from the window and put his empty coffee can in the trash bag on the back of the seat. “They wanted a son who would take over the business, or at least one who’d have a family they could leave the business to. I wanted parents who cared about me more than building their empire.”
Suddenly so many things about Aubrey made sense. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I mean, I’m lucky. My parents love me. They’re not homophobic. I never went to bed hungry or whatever. They supported me when I wanted to be a figure skater. I had every advantage in life.”
Not every one, Nate thought, reminiscing on his own childhood. He’d always felt close with his family. “I had a typical hockey mom,” he offered, feeling the need to reciprocate somehow. “She used to get a part-time job whenever school was in to pay for all the hockey sticks, ’cause I kept breaking them. She never said that was why she did it, but I knew.”
Aubrey looked away from the window and favored him with a soft smile. “She must be proud of you.”
Nate swallowed. “I think so.” Then he shook his head as another memory hit him. “Tell you what, though, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. I thought she was going to hit the roof the day she caught me with my hand down Danny’s pants.”
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, that soft expression sharpening into amusement. “Oh?”
“I was fourteen. I wasn’t out. I mean, I wasn’t actively hiding it—at least not very well—”
Aubrey laughed, and Nate did too. Nate’s idea of not actively hiding it and Aubrey’s were probably a little different.
“—but I hadn’t told my parents. Mom was… surprised. Good, though. I think it would’ve been worse if I was caught with a girl. At least with Danny, neither of us could get pregnant.”
“Can’t jeopardize that budding NHL career.” Aubrey shook his head. “Though I guess being gay is its own kind of jeopardy. Probably not as much as a baby at fourteen.”
“That would’ve been a real nightmare.” Nate leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. There was traffic on the way to O’Hare. Well, it was Chicago; there was always traffic.
“Did you want kids?” Aubrey asked suddenly, and Nate’s eyes snapped open again. “Or I mean, maybe you still do. Still don’t?”
Aubrey could really put his foot in his mouth when he put his mind to it. Among other things. “I always did. Marty and I planned on it, you know, in that vague ‘after retirement’ way.”
“Not just because it’s what hockey players do?”
“No. I like kids.” Admitting it felt bittersweet now, since God knew when or if he’d ever have any. “What about you?” he asked, half joking, half to deflect attention.
Aubrey opened his mouth as though to give a prepared answer, then paused. Nate watched his shoulders creep toward his ears and then back down again as he fought some kind of instinctive reaction. Then he said, “I, uh, I never thought I did. I had all those wild oats, and it’s not like I had great parenting role models. But uh, therapy, right? A lot of the hang-ups I’ve had in the past were just excuses to keep evading my own issues. I’m overcoming my compulsive need to be the center of attention. And kids… maybe. I like them, but that’s not the same as wanting my own. Is it weird if I say I’ve never really thought about it?”
“Not weird,” Nate decided. Given Aubrey’s relationship with his family, it made sense. Sad, maybe, but he didn’t say that out loud. “It makes you think, though.”
“Hmm?”
“I spent my whole life doing what people expected, regardless of whether it was what I wanted. And you spent your whole life doing whatever you wanted no matter what people expected. But here we are.”
Aubrey tilted his head.
“Are you happy?” Nate blurted.
Aubrey’s mouth dropped open. Then he looked at his watch. “Nate. It’s not even ten a.m.”
“You can wait until after cocktail hour to answer if you want.” Maybe he’d overstepped.
But maybe not. “Are you?” Aubrey countered after a moment.
“I’m not unhappy.” He had a good life—a good job, a nice place to live, fairly few worries, a few good friends, a loving family. “But I think if I’d made different decisions—if I’d really thought about what I wanted instead of what other people wanted for me—I don’t know. Maybe I’d be happier.” Now for the uncomfortably honest part. “You seem like you’ve done the opposite. I was just wondering if you thought it was better—if it made you happier in the long run.”
