“Chill out, I had a kink in my foot,” said Riley. “Can we watch the goddamn hockey game without threatening me with hospitalization, please?”
Sloan observed him for five seconds, then shook his head like a disappointed parent and returned his attention to the TV.
“Give me Allen’s number so I can ask him for an owner’s manual or something,” said Sloan. “I need to know how many times I have to take you out for a walk.”
Riley didn’t know what had possessed him to think Sloan was attractive. Maybe hedidhave a head injury.
“Number,” Sloan ordered.
“Go fuck yourself.”
14 /KINGSTON
Kingston caughta fast pass from Evans and tipped the puck into the net so smoothly it was as if they had been playing together for years. Their teammates rallied around him, pushing him to the boards with hugs and loud praises, but Kingston couldn’t hear or feel anything over thesmileEvans was giving him.
It was just a practice game on a Sunday afternoon. It was just a well-aimed shot with a bit of luck to get it over their goalie’s glove. It was pointless to celebrate when they were four points behind their teammates on the opposing side.
So, why did Kingston feel like he’d won the Stanley Cup?
Or at least hethoughtthis was what winning the Cup would feel like. The joy of feeling like he belonged on a team for the first time since he was a kid. The energy he felt from the guys as they fist-bumped and playfully shoved him, erasing the tension and stares he’d earned from being a dick to them when he first showed up.
All of the negativity was gone, leaving Kingston buzzing with hunger. He was hungry to play his first NHL game once the season began. To score his first NHL goal. To finallymake somethingof himself on a team he believed in.
And finally, to sate the rest of the gnawing hunger inside, he was going tokiss Riley Evans before he punched him.
Kingston had never been attracted to men. Not once. He didn’t know why it was suddenly a problem when he was nowhere near the age for a midlife crisis. But every day, without fail, Kingston found himself constantly holding back when he was near the dickhead.
It had been two weeks since their awkward conversation on the couch about attraction, and although Evans hadn’t helped him figure shit out, it had opened the floodgates in Kingston’s mind.
He had been questioning his thoughtsbeforehe saw the texts with Evans’s reluctant admission that he thought Kingston was good-looking, and reading those words had shot everything to hell.
Kingston wanted to kiss the damn idiot and get the urge out of his system so he could move on, but there was a problem with that plan. Two, really.
One: since the day he had playednursemaidfor Evans, they had been getting along well enough that their game had improved exponentially. Kingston didn’t want to mess with the new flow they had and ruin everything, especially with lines being finalized soon.
Two: Kingston was worried that after he kissed Evans, it would have the opposite effect he was looking for. What if he wanted to kiss him again? What if he wanted to do more than kiss him? What if he couldn’t get hard around a girl after he kissed him?
Kingston couldn’t accept that. He was straight—or at least ninety-nine percent straight. Maybe ninety-seven percent since Allen and Jake were haunting his fucking dreams, too.
Kingston didn’t want to be bisexual, and it scared the shit out of him when he thought about kissing Evans andliking it.
He didn’t know what else to do other than try it and see what happened. Evans was a useless source of information since he apparently wasn’t crushing on his friends, and despite being invited to hang out with Allen and Jake, Kingston hadn’t worked up the courage to go.
If he hung out with those two again, they would smell his indecisiveness. Sure, they were probably the best guys to ask about the whole ‘I think I want to kiss a boy’ debacle, but he didn’t think he was ready to hear the answer.
And it didn’t help that Evans was being so goddamn nice to him. He wasn’t getting angry when Kingston bitched at or insulted him, and the cheeky smile he kept giving him when he acted up was making matters worse.
It would be easier to hate him. If Evans were to go back to antagonizing and ignoring him, it would help, but no such luck.
“Why are you making that scowly face?” said the creator of all Kingston’s misery as he skated over to tap him with his stick. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”
Kingston stared at Evans, brows furrowed as he watched the weirdo take off his glove and touch his sweaty, sticky thumb to Kingston’s forehead. The touch should have been gross, but it was sending tingles through his nervous system, racing straight down to his dick.
“Are you fucking anointing me or something?” Kingston said, slapping the hand away from his face. “And I’m scowling because you keepsmilingat me. Stop doing it, or people are going to think we’re friends or something.”
Evans shoved his glove back on and gave a quick jerk of his broad shoulders. “Well, we are, aren’t we?”
Their teammates were gathering at center ice for Coach Sullivan’s rundown of the play, but Kingston felt welded to the ice. Everything about Evans was driving him crazy, from hisappearance to the stupid fucking words that came out of his mouth.