Us

Love is friendship set in fire.

I'm like the worst queer dude ever. Somebody pass me the manual!

Did he open the wrong... “Probably shouldna opened all those drawers,” Blake carries on, rubbing his chin. “Ya can’t unsee some of those toys. But everybody has to have his own kinda fun.

I’m a sexy motherfucker. If only the one person I care about was here to appreciate it.

I have never felt as raw as I feel right now. I’ve just discovered that falling in love has a dark side.

I’ve just discovered that falling in love has a dark side. When you’re mad at the love of your life, it’s impossible to feel joy.

The way I feel about Ryan Wesley…it’s something I thought existed only in the movies. He’s my other half. We complement each other in more ways than I can count. When he’s in the same room, I’m focused on him, and when he’s gone I walk around missing him.

Where did your grandparents live, anyway?” Blake makes a dismissive motion with his hand. “The West Bumfuck farmland well outside of Ottawa--” West Bumfuck? Sounds like my kind of place.

Stop.” I yank the covers higher. “Or I won’t invite you to the wedding.” “To the…? OH MY GOD!

Wes?” I call out warily. “Bedroom,” comes my boyfriend’s muffled response. No, not my boyfriend. My...fiancé? Wow. Still feels surreal to think it.

He gives me another funny look. “You think I’m doing better because you left? That’s nuts, Coach. You know what happened when you got sick?” It’s my turn to wrinkle my forehead. “We were all really worried,” he mumbles, staring down at his skates. “And I was like, crap, I gotta get my shit together because Coach Canning does not need one more thing to worry about. You know, us losing all the time.” He flushes again. “I thought if we were winning, maybe you’d get better faster.

But there we are, two dozen grins stained red from the wine, waving at the camera like idiots. Blake is in the back row, his napkin tied around his head like a bandana. I have a hand on Jamie’s shoulder right in the center of the shot. His smile is just as relaxed and genuine as the day I met him. And I look…centered. It’s not a word I’ve ever used to describe myself before. But everything I ever wanted is in that photo—the man of my dreams, and my teammates. I’ve left my smug smile behind in favor of one that’s so shiny I hardly recognize myself. But it’s me up there for sure. It’s us. And it’s perfect.

Tell me about your boyfriend. He must be pretty special. You’re taking a lot of flak for being with him.

Probably shouldna opened all those drawers,” Blake carries on, rubbing his chin. “Ya can’t unsee some of those toys. But everybody has to have his own kinda fun.

Several curious heads turn in Jamie’s direction as he crosses the massive lobby. A flashbulb goes off, but still, he doesn’t stop. He keeps me trapped in a serious stare and erases the distance between us, and then he’s in front of me, those brown eyes twinkling playfully as he leans closer and— Kisses me.

Wesley, you asshole,” Eriksson says. “Aren’t you going to tell us?” “Tell you what?” I growl. My sex life is none of their goddamn business. “How is he? Jesus Christ. The TV news makes it sound like your boyfriend might be getting last rites.” My fingers falter on the buttons of my bright green checked shirt. “W-what?” Our backup goalie Tomilson speaks up wryly. “I think what Mr. Sensitive is trying to ask is, is your partner okay?

You’re not competing for him, dumbass. He’s already yours.

Don’t worry! I’m unhurt!” he yells from somewhere down there on the expensive carpeting. Wes and I lock eyes, our expressions a matching mix of humor and horror. “Blake, you broke the bed,” Wes says with a sigh. “That’s going on your bill, not mine.” “Won’t be the first time,” he says, picking himself up from the floor and straightening his tie. “At least you broke furniture and not my fiancé. We’ve had enough of hospitals.

But before we get started, does anyone, uh, have any questions for me?" There’s a long silence. Finally, Barrie raises his hand, and I hold my breath as I wait for his question. “Will Ryan Wesley come to one of our games?

I’m not sure,” I answer. “I’ll look at our game schedule and his game schedule and see if it works out. But I know Wes would be happy to come if his schedule allows it.” All of their faces light up.

Love is friendship set on fire. I get it now.

Dear Jamie, You tried to tell me about an issue with your co-coach and homophobic language, but I didn’t listen as well as I should have. I’m truly sorry. Our policy is unambiguous—no employer or player should have to put up with discriminatory language or a hostile work environment. Please allow me to help you do now what I should have helped you do then. Attached is the form for filing a complaint. As soon as you feel well enough to do so, fill it out so that we can properly investigate your complaint. I’ve learned a difficult lesson this week, and I’d like to amend my previous response to your inquiry. Sincerely, Bill Braddock

Fuuuuuuuck,” I say slowly. I poke Jamie to get his attention. “Babe, do you see this shit? I’m being pranked.

And that’s how Canning and I came to have a big framed photo on our living room wall featuring the entire Toronto team dressed in very loud gingham. I swear the color rendered a little bolder in print than it looks in real life, because this photo is kind of blinding. But Jamie snickers whenever I suggest that.

Jamie cringes. “I gotta…” He chokes on the word. “Gotta just try something, okay?” When he raises his eyes again, they’re wet. Now I’m more panicked than ever. I stumble toward him and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back, at least. My throat locks up completely. No no no no I chant inside. I’d yell it if I knew it was the right thing to do. But how do I deny him a trip to his parents? Tomorrow I’m leaving for Minnesota. It makes no sense for me to beg him to stay and then hop on the team jet for five days. Fuck. So I man up and do what is right. “Take care of yourself,” I whisper. “You’re really fucking important to me.” He hugs me a little tighter and takes a shaky breath. “You too.” Okay. I can do this. “I love you,” I say, taking half a step back. “Love you, too,” he mutters. He doesn’t look me in the eye. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Wes growls when I come in his mouth, but he doesn’t stop sucking until I’m limp and mindless. As the aftershocks of the orgasm continue to flutter through my sated body, I vaguely register that he’s beside me now. Kissing my neck. Stroking my abs. Nuzzling my beard with his cheek. “Fucking love this beard,” he whispers. “Fucking love you,” I whisper back.

Someone already filed a complaint against Danton’s language, and it’s going to the disciplinary committee on the same day as the complaint against you.” My spine tingles. “Who filed it?” “Your team. Every last player. They

Their complaint is eight pages long, detailing instance after instance of inappropriate, homophobic language. And a few racial slurs, too. I drank a very large glass of scotch after reading it. I had no idea things were so bad.

Wes’s hot mouth is taking deep pulls on my dick. Pleasure darts from my shaft to my balls. I tangle my hands in his messy hair and thrust deeper into his mouth, floored by the eagerness, the passion, he’s giving to this blowjob. He licks and sucks and nibbles every inch of me, and I groan when he pops his finger into his mouth before dragging it down the crease of my ass.