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

  Einstein: I knew what you meant, and I appreciate it, but … are you sure you want to waste your time on me when I’m probably a lost cause? You may never get sex stuff from me.

  Richie: YOU may never get sex stuff from ME. This is supposed to be about finding shit out about ourselves, right? Theoretically, I’m bisexual. I get off to the thoughts of guys. In practice … I’m not ready to go there yet. Maybe we can take the baby steps together?

  Einstein: Together. I like that.

  October

  Richie: How is your first semester back?

  Einstein: Same old, same old. I thought doing my master’s would feel different. Nope.

  Richie: One month has felt like an entire semester. Is the year over yet?

  Einstein: Sorry, just started.

  Richie: I guess I shouldn’t wish time away when I have no idea what I’m going to do next year.

  Einstein: Why do you think I’m doing my master’s? At this point I think I’ll keep going and get my PhD, then become a professor.

  Richie: I have a PHD, but apparently you’re the only one on this app who doesn’t want to see it.

  Einstein: Patience is a virtue. Or so I’ve heard. I mean, if you have this huge urge to send me a picture of your junk, I’ll take one for the team.

  Richie: You should write greeting cards. That’s where your talent is. Happy Valentine’s Day to the love of my life. I guess I’ll let you put it in me tonight.

  Einstein: Ace Valentine’s Day cards. They should be a thing. I like you a lot, I think you’re hot, but I don’t want you near my spot.

  Richie: Yours even rhymes! Ditch becoming a professor, you could be a poet.

  Einstein: I’ll think about it.

  Richie: Now if it was only that easy to decide my future.

  Einstein: What’s your major?

  Richie: Media relations.

  Einstein: Do you want a job in media?

  Richie: Nope. Maybe? IDK. I’d love to do something with sports media, but getting a foot in the door is next to impossible. I’m looking at internships, but other than that, I’ve got nothing. Except a bait shop back in Maine.

  Einstein: That sucks.

  Richie: Welcome to my hell.

  6

  Seth

  Richie and I have been messaging for two months now, and I can’t get enough.

  Since mentioning my theory about being demi, I broke the barrier of whatever it was we had going on, and our conversations went from fun and flirty to deep and serious, and now I’m waiting for Richie to tap out. Two months is a lot of time to invest in someone who might not even be interested.

  Will the possibility of never getting sex be too much for him to gamble on?

  Ah, shit. I definitely shouldn’t have said anything.

  Probably.

  He said we’d do this together, and every day since he hasn’t shown signs of taking that back. I constantly want to message him, but then I think about what Emma said about being needy, and it makes me hold off.

  Why do relationships have to be so complicated?

  Maybe if I was built like everyone else, it’d be so much easier.

  But then …

  I wouldn’t be chatting with him at all if that was the case.

  A tiny thrill trickles through me whenever I catch sight of his name, and that has to be a good sign, right? That I might be making that connection I need.

  I really, really want to message him.

  Instead, I use whatever willpower I have to finish grabbing my stuff to head out and meet Zach at Bean There. I swear I spend more time at that café than the one on the UVM campus these days.

  Then my phone buzzes.

  Richie: Okay, either you slept in, had back to back classes, then a full afternoon as well, or … you’ve forgotten how to type. Radio silence all day? That’s so unlike you, Einstein.

  I might as well go with honest. After all, if I want to test this connection, I need to give him the real me.

  Einstein: I’m trying to play it cool. Remember the ex I told you about? Turns out she thought I was ‘needy’ so naturally I’m second guessing every move here.

  Richie: What if I told you I liked needy?

  Einstein: I’d ask how badly you want to get laid.

  Richie: The fact I was up until 2am texting a dude that might never want that should answer your question.

  Umm, hello, butterflies. My lips pull up in the corner, remembering the way I struggled to keep my eyes open so I could read one more message. I can’t remember the last time I stayed up half the night texting—high school, maybe? There are only a few minutes before I need to leave, but I drop down on my couch and punch out a reply.

  Einstein: Can I ask why you haven’t run away yet?

  Richie: Looking for a compliment?

  Einstein: I could be.

  Richie: Okay, way to put a guy on the spot. It’s sort of hard to explain, I guess. Most of the time when you meet someone, it’s their body or their face or their ass that gets your attention. We don’t have that. You’re cagey and low on details, so I don’t really know you, but I do in a different way.

  Aww, that’s sweet. He sends a stream of messages before I can reply.

  Richie: Wait. I read that back and it sounds dumb.

  I don’t even think it made sense.

  Sorry. Let’s pretend I said you’re cool and your messages make me smile and leave it at that.

  My gut flips hard as I read those last words. At least I’m not the only one sitting here with a dopey-ass grin.

  Einstein: I get the impression you’re a total dork. I like it.

  Richie: Interesting. If you had to guess, what would you say I look like?

  Einstein: Well according to your photo, you have some solid abs, but I’m thinking you’re a bigger guy with a baby face and would be the type to open the door for your dates.

  Richie: Is that what you’re into?

  My alarm beeps obnoxiously, reminding me it’s time to get moving. I hurry to grab my keys, but even after I lock my apartment and head for the car, I can’t bring myself to end the conversation.

  Einstein: I don’t know if it’s a demi thing or a me thing, but I don’t have a type. At least, with women. Jury’s still out on guys.

  I climb in the car, and when his reply doesn’t come straightaway, I wonder if that was the wrong answer. Maybe he wanted specifics.

  The thing is, Richie has given me enough to find out exactly who he is. The UVM website has the hockey team listed, and if I really wanted to know who I’m talking to, I could easily go look. I’ve been close a few times.

  I’m holding strong though. Letting this thing between us happen naturally.

  I lock my phone and back out of my parking space. Of course, I’m barely on the road for a minute when Richie writes back, and it takes a stern reminder of the road rules to stop me from grabbing my phone and checking it anyway.

  The drive that barely takes ten minutes seems like an eternity. I get every red light, and there’s no parking spaces by the café, so I have to lap the block before I find one.

  I’m flustered and my brain is a chaotic mess as I grab my phone and open ChatUp.

  Richie: I’m going to ask something and I hope I don’t sound like a dick. Have you been attracted to dudes before or is this all a test to prove your ex-girlfriend wrong?

  Einstein: You’re going to laugh.

  Richie: It’ll make us even then.

  I tug my lip between my teeth, unsure of how much to tell him. Having Emma throw my little fascination back in my face hurt at the time, but she was right about how great our sex was after watching The Witcher. It might have been the only time it was good between us. And since then, it’s made me open my eyes to a few other things in my past. My high school obsession with Supernatural and Dean Winchester. How I started dreaming about this jock guy I tutored from my freshman class.

  I get out of the car and text him while I walk.

  Einstein: You know the
show The Witcher? Turns out I have a bit of a thing for him.

  Richie: When you say ‘a thing’ …

  Einstein: He turned me on, okay? I jerked off to him so much I worried I’d pull a muscle.

  Richie: Technically you were pulling a muscle.

  I want to point out that the penis isn’t actually a muscle, but I hold off, because I’m having fun.

  Einstein: *middle finger emoji*

  Richie: Hey, I get it. Henry Cavill’s hot.

  I snort back a laugh.

  Einstein: I’m struggling to work out how you didn’t know you’re attracted to guys.

  Richie: My blinders were on, but I’m seeing the world in a whole new way now.

  Einstein: Okay, first, I warn you. I look nothing like him. Unlike you (apparently) I don’t have abs. Second, it’s not the actor. It’s the character. According to my old pal Google, demi people can form connections with fictional characters easier than people. And from what I know about myself, it seems pretty accurate.

  I’m worried I’ve said too much, or sound too weird, so I quickly follow the message up.

  Einstein: Now if that doesn’t turn you on about me, nothing will.

  The little dots appear on my screen, telling me he’s replying. I’m holding my breath, totally consumed by my phone.

  So consumed—

  Oof!

  I slam right into someone.

  I bounce back, and hands clamp down on my shoulders to steady me before I stumble over my own feet. There’s a thump of a phone hitting the ground, and as I blink the pain in my forehead away, one of Foster’s old teammates comes into vision.

  Rossi?

  Martin?

  No, it starts with a C.

  “Graceful, Cohen,” another of the hockey guys calls out from inside while giving us a thumbs up.

  Ah, Cohen, then.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asks, forehead lined with concern as his eyes meet mine.

  “Yeah, fine.” I brush him off. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  His grin catches me off guard as he bends and picks his phone up off the pavement. “Me neither.” He rubs his shoulder. “You bodycheck as hard as your brother.”

  Okay?

  “Sorry?”

  He chuckles and grabs the door to the café, holding it open. “All good. You going in here?”

  “Thanks.” I pass him and catch sight of Zach sitting at a far table. Damn, he beat me here. Which means message time is over even as the thought of Richie’s waiting reply burns in my consciousness.

  “Sorry again,” Cohen says, cuffing me on the shoulder as he makes his way to the counter.

  I wave him off and head for my best friend.

  It’s busy in here which isn’t really surprising for a Friday afternoon after class. As I make my way across the café, snippets of conversation about some big frat party reach me, and I have to hope my friend Tyson hasn’t heard about it. Even though we go to UVM, he’s made me crash too many CU parties to count.

  When I reach him, Zach’s dark head is bent over his phone, and he’s wearing a little smile that reminds me so much of how I feel when I’m messaging Richie that it throws me for a second.

  “How’s my brother?” I ask as I take the seat across from him.

  Zach’s cheeks darken a little as he hurries to lock his phone and set it on the table. “Busy.” The earlier happiness he was radiating disappears. “Training camp has been draining. We still talk every night, but he’s so tired, and after spending the whole summer together, all this time apart …” For one wild moment, I think Zach is going to start crying on me. Please, no. But then he quickly shakes his head. “Anyway, how are you?”

  I’m not sure whether to let him get away with the subject change or not. My need to fix the problem is strong, and even though I remind myself that Zach isn’t a child and this is his business, helping with stuff like this is what best friends are for. Right?

  Words like needy and overbearing fill my head again.

  It frustrates me that I’m even having this conversation with myself.

  “I’m good.” Don’t get involved, Seth. Let it go. Nope, my mouth won’t listen. “It’s only a year. Remember what you said? He’s going to be busy, and so are you. It’ll go quickly.”

  “I know.” He stares at his phone but doesn’t take any comfort in my words.

  It hurts. Ever since he started dating Foster, the distance between us is growing. I care about him, well, like a brother. I want things to go back to how they used to be, when he’d unleash every thought in his brain at me. Sure, I have other friends I’m close with, but no one like Zach.

  “How is your coursework coming?” I ask to draw him out.

  “Really good.” A little life comes back to his expression as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’m well on track to finish within the year.”

  “Well, there you go. You might even get to Montreal before June.” I’m trying to be encouraging even as my gut sinks.

  Then I hear something that knocks the conversation aside.

  “Order for Richie?”

  Zach says something, but I completely miss what as my head snaps up toward the barista.

  What are the chances?

  I freeze. My heartbeat is in my ears as I lean a little, trying to see the counter, but damn, Cohen is in the way. I can’t see around him from this angle.

  “Seth? Did you hear me?”

  “Sorry …” I force my attention back to Zach, whose big eyes are magnified to look even bigger by his glasses. “I thought I—what did you say?”

  He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he toys with the sugar packet in front of him. “I’ve been looking into something … and you’re probably not going to like it.” Zach’s voice trails off.

  Okay, so this is important. So important I refuse to look back toward the counter, even though I’m desperate to.

  Because it’s very, very possible Richie and I are in the exact same room.

  “McGill in Montreal. They have a similar grad program that could take my course credits from here. All I’d have to do is apply for a student visa, and—”

  What?

  “What?”

  “I was completely unprepared for how much I’d miss him.”

  “You want to move to Canada?”

  “I want to go to be with Foster.”

  “He travels a good part of the year. What, you’re going to move there so you can be at home waiting whenever he’s done with his latest game?” My voice is rising, but what the hell? My body has switched over to full-on panic mode. I was supposed to have this year. Me. Not Foster. He gets the rest of their damn lives. I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to calm down. To be rational. I think deep down I sort of expected this, but not so soon.

  Don’t make me lose my best friend.

  “Zach, have you thought about this logically—”

  “I can’t! I’ve been trying, but every thought I have is completely irrational, and all I can concentrate on is the distance between us. I know you don’t understand—”

  “Why, because I’m not in a relationship—”

  “Because he’s your brother. But I love him. And it’s horrible and painful, and seeing him missing me probably hurts the most. Seth …” He tries to meet my eyes, but I don’t want him to see the hurt in them, so I quickly look away.

  I’ve always been there for Zach. But first he has to escape me by running off to CU, and now he’s disappearing to another country?

  Deep down I know this isn’t about me, but it’s hard to disconnect the two thoughts. He loves Foster, he wants to be with him. It just makes me feel so alone.

  It’s self-doubt talking, but when the hell will anyone ever actually want to be around me? I remind myself that Zach is my best friend. I love him. I love Foster. I want them to be happy, and if I don’t want to lose them, I need to cool it the hell down. “I do get it. It must be really tough, but you like it here, and Montreal
is not that far for visits, and—”

  “You just don’t want me to leave.”

  “Well, I mean obviously. I’d miss you.”

  “I know. I’d miss you too, but …” His voice has gone all small and hurt.

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “I think I’m going to skip coffee.”

  “Zach—”

  “It’s fine. I want to go home and think about it some more. It’s … a lot.”

  I watch as Zach scrambles to grab his phone and keys and leaves. He pushes past a sea of Mountain Lions jerseys that belong to Foster’s old teammates.

  Foster’s best friend, Jacobs, follows him, and Cohen turns, pointing after them.

  “He okay?”

  I ignore the question and leave the back way.

  Zach has half the hockey team chasing after him to make sure he’s okay, and who do I have?

  I don’t need to check behind me to know the answer to that question.

  7

  Cohen

  When the rest of the team decided we were going to this Halloween frat party, the first thing I did was make sure it was an actual costume party before buying something to wear. I did learn some things from my tattoo experience.

  With it being an actual thing, there was really only one person I could think of to go as. It helps it’s easy to put together too. Long gray wig, black pants, loose long-sleeved shirt, and a sword.

  The temptation to take a selfie and send it to Einstein is strong, but I’m taking the back seat on this one. We need to go at his pace, and I have to admit going slow is helping me adjust to everything without any pressure for more.

  I’ve stopped messaging other guys because I only want to pursue this exploration with him. At least for now. Because if he decides he wants to take that next step, I think I’m ready, even if the idea of meeting him makes me nervous as hell.

  When I’m ready to go to the party, I knock on both Beck and Jacobs’s doors, knowing they’ll be in one of their rooms. They’re right next to each other.