Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey Book 3) Read online

  @confused96: You must be very proud. Congratulations on a beautiful dick.

  Yeah, that’s probably not what I should’ve said.

  @scottiethehottie: I bet I could tear your hole in two. You go to Colchester, right? I could be there in twenty minutes.

  What the fuck?

  I mean … what the fuck?

  I set up my profile to say I’m from Vermont instead of enabling location services because I’m still in Maine, but I left off any major personal details.

  @confused96: What makes you think I go to CU?

  @scottiethehottie: Your tattoo.

  Aww, shit. I stare down at the stupid tattoo on my hip, right near the groove of my V. Freshman year, the seniors on the hockey team told us we were all getting matching tattoos. Because, you know, school pride. Go Mountain Lions! Only, they all decided not to go through with it. So now I have a mountain lion tattooed on me forever. And no one else does.

  Just another way I’m too naïve. I should’ve gone with someone from the team to make sure they were telling the truth.

  I click on my profile pic on the dating app. It’s taken from above, so it has my face and abs in it. My face is the main focus. My brown hair is messy in that I woke up five minutes ago and tumbled out of bed kind of way. My beard is in need of a trim. Apparently, this guy bypassed all that. To make out my tattoo in the pic, I have to enlarge it to the point of almost pixelating the crap out of the image.

  That’s creepy.

  @confused96: That’s a catamount. I go to UVM.

  Eww, I feel dirty even saying that. The University of Vermont and Colchester have a running feud that dates back to the founding of our school. I should wash my mouth out with soap. Or chop my fingers off. Even pretending to be in allegiance with that school … No. Just, no.

  @scottiethehottie: Even better. I can be at UVM in five. I live off campus.

  And block.

  I edit my picture to crop out the tattoo and my face, then add to my profile that I go to UVM so none of these guys turn up on my campus looking for me.

  No one from CU is stupid enough to say they go to UVM when they don’t. Well, except me.

  No shocking revelation there.

  Dumb person is dumb.

  I understand these apps are mostly used to find hookups, but it seems everyone is impatient to get to the fucking.

  Maybe I should join the LGBTQ club Foster used to belong to on campus. Though, that would pretty much scream to everyone that it’s true—I’m not as straight as I thought I was—and I’m not ready to do that.

  I swipe my way through some other options when a profile catches my eye—mainly the description: I’m just here to talk. No casual hookups.

  @scientistguy doesn’t have many details, and the only photo is a Halloween costume.

  I test him out and hope it’s not bullshit. The creepers tend to show their colors pretty fast.

  @confused96: Hey.

  He doesn’t reply even though the green light is showing he’s online. After five minutes of nothing, I send off another message.

  @confused96: For someone who wants to talk, you don’t say much.

  The bubbles appear on the screen, letting me know he’s typing.

  @scientistguy: I was waiting for the inevitable dick pic that usually follows the message HEY.

  I laugh. Scientist Guy might be having the same hit-and-miss luck I am.

  @confused96: They may see your request for conversation as a challenge.

  @scientistguy: I figured they can’t read.

  Another laugh bubbles out of me.

  @confused96: That too. So what’s your story?

  @scientistguy: What do you mean by story? Once upon a time about twenty-two years ago, there was a man and woman who loved each other verrrry much …

  @confused96: ha ha. I actually meant why are you on a dating app wanting to talk? No luck in real life?

  @scientistguy: I’m butt ugly.

  @confused96: A paper bag will clear that right up.

  @scientistguy: It’s good I have options.

  @confused96: Does ugliness really hold you back in the gay world? I figured most guys aren’t looking at your face when they bend you over and fuck you.

  @scientistguy: *sigh* so close. Later.

  Wait, what did I do? Oh, shit. I scramble to reply before he blocks me.

  @confused96: No! That wasn’t an offer or a come on or trying to lead to sexting. I really am curious if ugliness is a problem when it seems everyone I talk to is only interested in dicks and buttholes.

  @scientistguy: lol. Has someone actually asked to see your butthole? How do you even take a photo of that?

  @confused96: Hey, I’m just here to talk. I can’t believe you asked me to take a photo of my butthole.

  @scientistguy: I didn’t!

  @confused96: Mmhmm. Sure.

  @scientistguy: What’s YOUR story?

  @confused96: You’re cunnin’ if you think I don’t know you’re diverting attention away from yourself, but I’ll let it slide. I’m Richie. I’m 24. And I’m really new to this.

  @scientistguy: Ah, hence your name? Or are you confused how a 69 works and got it backward?

  @confused96: That’s exactly my problem. Turning 69s into 96s. But in all seriousness, it’s labels, I guess. They’re confusing. I’ve kissed one guy a long time ago but have only ever been with women. It was only recently someone else pointed out to me that I might not be straight.

  @scientistguy: Most people would say Congratulations, you’re bisexual, but I know it’s not as easy as that. If it makes you feel any better, my ex-girlfriend had to point out I might not be straight either. What is it with people and telling others what sexuality they should be?

  @confused96: To be fair, I have actually kissed a guy. Have you?

  @scientistguy: Nope. All summer I’ve been on here trying to meet guys. You know, to do thorough research. I was surprised when I actually did form connections with a few. They seemed great online, there was that … interest, but the minute we met up for coffee or whatever, it was completely different and they didn’t seem like the same guy. Like it was all a show. Or maybe it’s me that’s the problem, and in person I just don’t feel … it. I’m honestly about to give up. This label thing is hard. I don’t know what I am either.

  @confused96: Hopefully human. That’s my only hard limit. I really don’t want to fall for you and then find out you’re a porcupine.

  I figured a joke would make him want to stay a bit longer. It sounds like he’s two seconds away from deleting the app entirely.

  @scientistguy: I can be prickly. Fair warning.

  @confused96: … Are you a porcupine? I’m pretty sure if I ask, you have to say. No, wait, that’s the police.

  @scientistguy: Not the police either. That’s what dumbass criminals think.

  @confused96: Did you just call me a criminal?

  @scientistguy: I also called you a dumbass.

  @confused96: I can’t refute that. Did you not see the part where someone else had to point out that kissing another man probably means I’m not straight?

  There’s a beat where the bubbles appear and then disappear. Then they appear again. I’m expecting some huge message, maybe something about sexualities being on a spectrum and using the words I’ve seen from countless googling like fluid and pansexual and all those other great labels that sound good but don’t quite … fit. Yet. I’m hoping with a bit more experience, I’ll work it out.

  That doesn’t come through though.

  @scientistguy: Are you a criminal? Ever been arrested?

  I guess he doesn’t want to get in too deep this first chat, and I can respect that.

  @confused96: So many times. I’m in jail right now.

  @scientistguy: What for?

  @confused96: Looking too damn sexy.

  @scientistguy: I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

  @confused96: Yup. And in all truth, I haven’t so much as gotten a speeding tic
ket. I’m a good boy.

  @scientistguy: Just when I pictured us riding off on your motorcycle together, you have to tell me you’re a good boy. Shame.

  @confused96: Ah. You want to turn a bad boy good, huh?

  @scientistguy: Nah, I’d rather be corrupted.

  My cock twitches. Damn, I like that idea. There’s only one problem with that.

  @confused96: I don’t think I’m experienced enough to corrupt you.

  @scientistguy: Our relationship is doomed. May as well give up now.

  @confused96: DOA.

  @scientistguy: I should get some sleep. I only came on to check how many new creeps I got today.

  @confused96: How many?

  @scientistguy: Two unsolicited dick pics, someone asking if I’m femme and want my pussy fucked, and one guy who so far seems cool. Though, my standards might be slightly lowered after the others.

  @confused96: Am I the cool one? I can be wicked cool. My mother always says so.

  @scientistguy: And there go the cool points.

  @confused96: Damn. Can I message you again though? See if I can earn them back?

  @scientistguy: I’d like to see you try.

  @confused96: Can I get your name?

  @scientistguy: You have to earn that. Goodnight, Richie.

  I fall asleep with a wide smile on my face and a feeling of not being so alone. Scientist Guy is going through the same thing as I am, and that gives me comfort.

  August

  @confused96: Tell me more about you. What’s your favorite color?

  @scientistguy: What are you, seven? I don’t have a favorite color. Because, again, I’m not seven.

  @confused96: Tell me something surprising about you.

  @scientistguy: I have a third testicle.

  @confused96: Really?

  @scientistguy: No.

  @confused96: Siiiiiigh. I don’t think you understand how this getting to know each other thing works. I’ll go first. I speak three languages.

  @scientistguy: Prove it.

  @confused96: Well, obviously I speak English, French: Va te faire fourrer. And the third language is hockey.

  @scientistguy: Did you just tell me to get fucked in French? (Thank you Google translate!)

  @confused96: It correlates to the hockey thing. I stayed with a billet family in Quebec for a while. Technically, I only know smack talk, but hey, it counts.

  @scientistguy: Ah. You play hockey then.

  @confused96: What are your thoughts on hockey players?

  @scientistguy: Stereotypically, they’re dumbasses. Been around a few of them who fit that description. But personally, I kinda hate hockey. Sorry.

  @confused96: Shit, we really are doomed. What if I promise to never talk about it? My best friend hates it too, so I’m used to knowing when to shut my mouth.

  @scientistguy: You don’t have to shut up about it, but I probably won’t contribute to a conversation if it comes up. You could tell me the Tigers scored a touchdown in the fourth inning, and I’ll be like, cool, dude. I’m happy for you.

  @confused96: … I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

  @scientistguy: I’m joking. The Tigers never score.

  @confused96: The Tigers aren’t even a team! We score goals, not touchdowns, and there’s no innings in hockey!

  @scientistguy: Tell me that thing again where you said you’re able to not talk about it.

  @confused96: You’re messing with me?

  @scientistguy: About not knowing the right terminology? Yes. About hating hockey? No.

  @confused96: New rule. No talking hockey. Ever. I might have a coronary.

  @scientistguy: I’m okay with that. Uh, the not talking about it. Not you having a coronary. Please don’t die.

  @confused96: Aww, you don’t want me to die? You’re falling for me already. I can tell.

  @scientistguy: What can I say, humility is an admirable trait and all.

  @confused96: *googles what humility means* Hey, I’m totally humble. I only spend one hour in the mirror each day telling myself how sexy I am. Most guys on my team take at least twice that long.

  @scientistguy: There you go talking about hockey again.

  @confused96: Damn it! I can do it. I promise.

  @scientistguy: I’ll believe it when I see it. Or, don’t see it.

  4

  Seth

  Foster’s Jeep is already in the driveway of our childhood home when I arrive and pull in behind him. Even though we went to different colleges, we’ve never gone more than a few weeks in our whole lives without seeing each other, until now. He and Zach took off for Montreal during the first week of summer break, and I haven’t seen them since.

  So not only has it been a long three months without my twin brother, it’s also been a long three months without my best friend.

  Zach and I were inseparable before last year. Since we met, it has always been him and me. Then he ran off to CU, hooked up with Foster, and once again I’ve been relegated to second-place Grant.

  You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

  Resisting the urge to check my phone for the hundredth time today, I jump out of the car and go inside.

  “Seth!” I’m barely through the front door when Foster grabs me and pulls me into a hug. Then he ruffles my hair like I’m the younger brother. I jab him in the ribs, and he tries to grab me in a headlock before I wriggle out from under his arms.

  “Yeah, yeah, happy to see you too.” And I am. I might hold resentment toward Foster and how I come second to everything he does—I mean, graduating as summa cum laude couldn’t even compete with him signing to the NHL—but I love him.

  Being his brother gives me the right to do both.

  “Where’s Zach?” I ask.

  “Trying to help Mom in the kitchen.”

  “He never learns.”

  Foster gets a teasing look. “And you told me he was smart.”

  I jab him again.

  Foster’s hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it, and his stubble has grown in thicker. For twins, we’re not that much alike. My hair is longer and a bit lighter, and I generally stay clean-shaven, and while we’re the same height, Foster’s hockey career has made him way bigger than my lanky ass will ever be.

  Zach, on the other hand, is the same as ever. Scrawny, big glasses, shaggy hair. And for some reason wearing one of Mom’s frilly aprons.

  I laugh. “What’s this?”

  “Nonnegotiable, apparently.” He leans down to check the vegetables in the oven, fogging up his glasses in the process. “Your mom said if I insisted on helping, it was required.”

  “And how did you convince her to actually let you help? That’s happened all of never.”

  “I simply reminded her that Foster is a terrible cook and someone will need to make sure he’s fed properly.” He drops his voice. “Now I’m scared she’s on a mission to teach me every recipe she knows.”

  Foster hums and backs Zach up against the counter. “That apron looks sexy on you. We’ll take it upstairs later …”

  I fake gag loudly, and Zach’s face floods red.

  This. This is one of the many reasons I didn’t want them hooking up in the first place. The awkward third-wheel vibes I’m constantly surrounded by do nothing but make me feel even more out of place than I already do. “You know the rules. No talking about that shit when I’m around.”

  “No one’s keeping you here,” Foster points out.

  I flip him off.

  “And I’ve never been great at following rules.” He kisses Zach’s head but thankfully steps away again.

  “Tell me about this place you found,” I say, trying to steer the conversation to safer grounds.

  “It’s great. One bedroom, view of the city. Only a few blocks from the arena.”

  “Living the dream.”

  Foster and Zach share a small smile. “I will be.”

  Urg. Love. “It’s only a year,” I remind them.

  The smile slides rig
ht off Zach’s face. “It feels like forever.”

  “Yes, but you’re going to be busy this year anyway, so it’ll fly. You can call each other every day and drive up on breaks—”

  “Seth,” Foster cuts in. “You’re meddling again. For someone who didn’t even want us together, you sure do work to keep it that way.”

  I just want you to be happy. I don’t say that out loud though. My need to see the people I love happy apparently comes on a little strong sometimes.

  It’s why I put on a happy face for them. They’re genuinely so sickeningly into each other that only a dickhead would try to get in their way. I wish I knew what it was like. To miss someone even when they’re right there within arm’s reach.

  Mom and Dad join us, and we spend the evening eating the roast she’s cooked and sipping Dad’s gin. Zach gets the hiccups, and Dad wants to talk hockey.

  “So, Seth,” Mom says, turning to me. “When do we finally get to meet Emma?”

  Ah, fuck. This is why I need to keep my mouth shut about my relationships. Whenever I start dating someone, she always gets it out of me. “We, umm, we broke up.”

  “Sweetie …”

  “It’s fine. It was mutual.” Lies. “Besides, I’m starting my master’s this year, so I don’t really think I’ll have time to dedicate to a relationship.”

  “If I can manage, I’m sure you could,” Zach says. I know he’s trying to mean it in a reassuring way, but this is another one of those instances where he’s oblivious. I’m lying, dude. Don’t unintentionally call me on it.

  “Well, we’re not all geniuses like you,” I say. “I’m going to need to concentrate. I can worry about dating when I’m done.”

  Or, you know, when I don’t completely scare my partners away by wanting to be around them.

  I’m not fooling anyone though. Mom’s look of pity curls the disappointment in my gut even tighter.

  I could tell them the real reason. Just come … out? But if it’s confusing in my head, I don’t have a chance in hell of telling my parents in a way that will make any sense.

  “Oh hey, Mom and Dad, she actually broke up with me because we didn’t have enough sex” is not a comfortable conversation. Guys are meant to want sex. Always. No excuses. Foster came out to them as bi with no problems, but people know what bi is. Ace? Not so much. Gray ace? Demi? No chance. And without that, I’m what? Straight but maybe questioning? It’s a mess.