National Cotton Candy Day
COLSON AND I ARE FRIENDS NOW. THE KIND OF FRIENDS WHO CHILL outside of the rink and hang out at each other’s houses. Sometimes he even crashes here if the guys are partying too hard and he’s too drunk to walk home. Will’s always here too, but that at least makes sense. He and Beckett are joined at the hip. The good thing about Will is, he doesn’t incite any feelings of guilt, so it’s a lot easier to have him around.
Colson, on the other hand… I’ve always been skilled at burying my emotions, but it’s becoming a challenge to ignore the guilt. I’m starting to really like the guy. But Gigi doesn’t want him to know about us yet, so I need to follow her lead on this. He’s her ex, not mine.
They’re both over right now, Will sprawled on the couch next to Beckett, while Colson sits next to me.
Shane is in the armchair texting a chick who for once isn’t a cheerleader. He met her in Hastings and brought her over the other day. I think she said she was a prelaw student. They went to a party last night, where apparently her ex showed up drunk and sloppy and got in Shane’s face. Now she’s apologizing profusely to Shane via text.
“There’s always that one obnoxiously wasted guy,” Will says, rolling his eyes. “What’s up with that?”
“It’s the age-old rule of the party,” Beckett explains. “Every party has a role that must be fulfilled. Sloppy Guy is one of them.”
“Dude, that is so true.” Case chuckles, then leans forward to grab his beer. He pauses for a moment, then laughs again. “Okay, here’s one. You show up at a party and you’re only allowed to hang out with one of these people. For the entire night, no breaks. Who do you pick—Crying Mascara-Streak Bathroom Girl or Annoying Acoustic Guitar Guy?”
Beckett groans. “That’s pure torture either way, mate.”
Shane sets down his phone and thinks it over. Then he fires a series of questions at Colson. “Do I get to fuck the bathroom girl?”
“No.”
“Can I make song requests?”
“No.”
“What’s she crying about?”
“Sobbing too incoherently for you to figure it out.”
“Can I do drugs?”
“No.”
“Drink?”
“One beer.”
Shane shrugs. “Acoustic Guitar Guy.”
Will, who’s in charge of the remote, stumbles upon that reality show channel Gigi is obsessed with. His eyes light up.
“Yo. Plate Pleasers. I love this show.”
“Are you kidding?” Colson says. “This show is fucking nuts. Nothing good can come out of giving children this much power.”
“That’s what I always say,” Beckett chimes in. “There’s only one way this ends.”
Shane eyes them both. “Please, finish that thought. What kind of apocalyptic future are you envisioning because a reality show allows children to judge food dishes?”
Colson looks at Beckett. “He doesn’t get it.”
Beckett nods.
“All right. I gotta go to class.” I slap Colson’s shoulder as I get up, then nod at the other guys. “See you later.”
My Entrepreneurial Studies class is the only late one this semester. It annoyed me at first that I had to drive all the way back to campus for five o’clock classes three days a week, but the last few times, I met up with Gigi after class let out, and now it’s become a routine. Sometimes we grab a late dinner. Tonight, she says she wants a hot tub and steam. She tweaked her shoulder during her game on Saturday, and I guess it’s still bothering her.
After my lecture, I drive to the performance center, walking up just as Austin Pope is leaving. The kid’s been putting in extra training now that the World Juniors is coming up.
“Hey, captain,” he says, but his head is down, and he sounds distracted.
“Hey. How’s the training going? Ready for the big game?”
“Not really.” His tone is lined with exhaustion.
I frown. “What’s going on, Pope?”
“Nothing.” He continues to avert his eyes. “Just nervous, I guess.”
I get that. Pope is usually rock-solid before games, but the stakes are much higher here.
“It’s scary,” I admit. “Knowing the whole world is watching you. Literally the entire world.”
He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Plus there’s this extra pressure.”
My frown deepens. “What do you mean?”
“Just all these profile pieces about me being gay and how I’m the first openly gay player to participate in the World Juniors. Stuff like that. Just makes me feel… I don’t know. Like it’s taking away from my talent, I guess. My skill as a player. Focusing on my sexuality when it makes zero difference for this game.”
“I’m sure they mean no harm. I bet they just want you to be a role model for other kids like you,” I point out. “Guys who might still be too afraid to come out. That’s not a bad thing.”
“I get it. But like I said, just more pressure. How did you feel before your Worlds?”
“Scared shitless. And, dude, trust me, I know what it’s like to have your talent take the back seat. I played one of the best games of my life, and the only thing people remember is I broke some guy’s jaw in the locker room.”
“Yeah,” he says wryly.
I clap him on the shoulder. “You got this, Pope. Try not to focus on all the noise.”
“Thanks, Ryder.”
He heads off and I walk into the lobby. I notice the bright red flowers in the planters near the main desk, and when the security guy isn’t looking, I nonchalantly pluck one of the scarlet blooms and keep walking. Then I search on my phone, grinning to myself.
Ten minutes later, Gigi walks into the hot tub area, wearing the Speedo that never fails to make me burn for her.
I stick out the flower. “Here.”
She sighs. “Oh God. I’m scared to ask, but…what international day is it?”
“National Cotton Candy Day. Seemed like one you’d celebrate.”
She releases that melodic, feminine laugh, and I pretend it doesn’t affect me when the truth is, everything about her does.
We settle on opposite ends of the hot tub, as the jets swirl the water around us in a foamy eddy. We both know what’ll happen if we sit too close together, and for once we’re on our best behavior.
“I really thought I’d hear something about Team USA by now,” Gigi grumbles. “Like, why did Dustin bother hyping me up in Maine, telling me I had nothing to worry about, if they weren’t planning on contacting me soon?”
“I know it’s frustrating, but you need to have more patience,” I advise. “I remember it took forever when they were putting together the World Juniors team.” I lick a drop of moisture off my top lip. “I think the more important question right now is—what are we gonna do about Colson? I keep going back and forth about whether we should tell him about us.”
Her features strain. “You guys are really starting to get along, huh?”
“We are. I like him,” I say begrudgingly.
She grins. “That was painful, wasn’t it?”
“Very.” I pause. “I don’t know, though. Maybe we shouldn’t say anything to him yet. This last month has proven that camaraderie is what the team needed. I can’t fuck that up.”
“So let’s keep it on the down-low for a while longer.” She sounds relieved.
The timer beeps, and we towel off, slip into our flip-flops, and move to the sauna. Afterward, stepping back into the corridor is the most refreshing feeling, the normal temperature instantly cooling my face.
Gigi’s face is still flushed from the steam. She looks so pretty, gray eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy, that I forget where we are. I lean down and kiss her.
The tip of her tongue touches mine when someone clears their throat and we jump apart.
It’s Coach Jensen.
Shit.
“Graham. Ryder,” he greets us warily.
She jerks away from me, not at all discreetly. “Coach,” she says with a nod of greeting. “Um. I need to grab a shower and change. Good night.”
Then she dashes away.
Coach watches her fleeing form, then shifts his gaze back to me. I resist the urge to close my eyes so I don’t have to face that scowl of condemnation.
“You really want to go there?” he asks, dragging a hand over his salt-and-pepper buzz cut. The guy’s hairline looks the same as it does in pictures of him in the lobby from twenty years ago.
When I don’t respond, he sighs.
“These fucking guys always thinking with their dicks,” he mutters to himself. “Can I just have one season where this shit doesn’t happen?”
“It’s more than…whatever you think it is,” I finally say.
He looks unconvinced.
“We’re together. There’s, ah, feelings involved.”
Goddamn feelings. How did it even get to this point? I thought I would fuck her a few times and we’d both be on our way. Now, the idea of never seeing her smile at me again feels like someone ripping my heart out of my chest.
“All I can say is, tread carefully. Don’t do anything to hurt the team.”
“I’m trying not to. Look, you know we had a rough start, but I’ve been doing what I can to change that. Colson and I have been trying to unite everyone.”
“I’ve noticed,” Jensen acknowledges.
“So then you know that the last thing I want to do is screw that up.” I shrug, a tad helplessly. “I didn’t plan for this.”
He lets out another heavy breath. “Look. Kid. I don’t give a shit about other people’s lives. I only care about a few things. My wife, my daughters, my grandkids. And my men. Once they leave Briar, that doesn’t change. They still belong to me, you understand?” He nods in the direction Gigi went. “Her father is like a son to me, which means she’s like a grandkid to me. Which means don’t fuck around.”
I gulp.
“I know you’ve had a tough go at it from a young age,” Jensen says gruffly. “And I know I gave you a hard time when you first got here. But I’ve noticed the difference in you, Ryder. You’re doing a good job as cocaptain, and the team is showing improvement because of that. If you keep this up, you boys are going to go all the way to the end.” He shrugs. “So…I just want you to think about whether that’s something you’re willing to jeopardize.”
