Him

Canning is acting weird. He barely said a word during dinner, and then he vetoed my suggestion about catching a movie in town, saying he just wanted to go back to the room.

As we climb the dormitory steps in silence, I wish I knew what was going on in that sexy head of his. He doesn’t seem angry, or even upset. More like worried, which is so unlike Jamie it worries me.

“So what did Pat want to talk to you about earlier?” I’m trying to make conversation, but my question has the opposite effect.

“Just some coaching stuff,” he answers. And then he clams up again.

I smother a sigh and follow him up to the second floor, admiring the way his faded jeans hug his ass. We’ve been in shorts and flip-flops all summer, but it’s surprisingly cool out tonight, so now I get to experience Jamie in jeans. He looks fucking spectacular.

“Wanna watch something on your laptop?” I ask as I enter our room. “Cassel sent me this hilarious video of—”

His lips are on mine before I can finish that sentence.

Jamie pushes me up against the door and jams his tongue in my mouth, and I instinctively kiss him back despite the WTF bells going off in my head. He grips my waist and grinds his lower body against mine, groaning roughly.

Jesus Christ. I’m not sure where this sudden onslaught of passion came from, but my dick sure appreciates it. After a minute or two, I’m an iron spike behind my zipper. Jamie notices, and his hands are almost frantic as he fumbles for the button of my jeans.

“Owe you a blowjob,” he mumbles.

Right. The shootout. I’d forgotten about the prize. Not that it matters, seeing as we blow each other regularly without needing a shootout to justify it.

He tugs my pants and boxers down my hips, sinking to his knees with damn near desperation. The alarms in my head blare louder.

“Hey.” I thread my fingers through his hair to still his frenzied movements. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing yet.” He licks the head of my cock, and I see stars. “But I’m hoping this will get into me pretty soon.”

Then he takes my entire length in his mouth, proving without a doubt he’s picked up a few new tricks this summer. He can deep-throat like a champ now, and normally I’m all over that.

Tonight, something feels off.

His urgency thickens the air. I lean back against our door and try to give myself over to him, but in spite of his magic mouth, I can’t quite focus. Slipping a hand under his chin, I urge him upward. “Come here.”

Jamie gives one more good suck, which I feel down to my toes. When he stands, I turn us around so his back is to the door. Cupping his chin in both hands, I examine his gorgeous face. His cheeks are flushed, and his big brown eyes are full of some emotion I can’t quite read.

I’m going to find out what’s up, but first I kiss him. Once. Twice. “Canning,” I whisper. “We don’t fuck until you tell me what’s on your mind.”

His eyes drop. “I might coach next year,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Really?” That’s an idea I didn’t know he’d considered. Depending on the job, it might be an interesting solution to his goalie woes. Though a part of me still thinks he’d be nuts to throw away a professional hockey career. “Where?”

“There’s a defensive coordinator job for a major junior team…” He swallows. “In Toronto.”

In Toronto. The words ricochet through my mind. For the briefest of seconds, my heart takes off like a rocket. I might have gotten around to giving a whoop of inappropriate glee, except I’m still staring into Jamie’s wary eyes. He’s always been the smarter of the two of us.

But I’m a quick study. So it’s only a half-second later when my chest tightens, and my hands slip from his face. He actually flinches when they fall away.

I can’t be with Jamie in Toronto. Because if we’re found out, there won’t be any reason for me to be in that city at all. I’m a fucking rookie, hoping to be lucky enough to make myself valuable to the team.

Another few seconds go by before I can bring myself to point this out to him. Because it’s Jamie Canning we’re talking about here. The odds of me ever loving anyone else like I love him are about as good as being attacked by a shark.

In Toronto.

But Jamie’s odds of moving on are exponentially better. We’ve had a lot of fun this summer, but it can’t possibly mean to him what it means to me. This beautiful man is probably more straight than not. And even if I’m wrong about that, there are now twice as many available partners for him on the planet than there were six weeks ago.

He can have anyone. And I won’t ask him to wait around for me.

“Say something,” he mutters.

I don’t want to. There’s heat behind my eyes, and my throat might crack. But I won’t pussy out. He deserves my honesty for once.

“We can’t be together in Toronto,” I say.

Just six little words. But they make his eyes turn red.

“I’m sorry,” I add. Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe it.

He sidesteps me, moving away from the door. I take a moment to tuck myself back into my jeans. By the time I’ve done up my zipper, Jamie has made a frantic change into a pair of running shorts. He stuffs his feet into his shoes, not even taking the time to lace them.

“Going for a run,” he grunts.

When he moves for the door, I move out of the way. It’s precisely the opposite maneuver than I want to perform, and my heart is screaming at me to call him back.

But the door opens and shuts again with a snap, and he’s gone.

Panicking now, I hurry over to our window. A minute later he bursts off the front porch and goes running down the street, shoelaces still trailing behind him.

Even after he’s out of view, I need a minute of calm breathing to compose myself. I can’t believe I just did that. It’s not what I want. My thoughts zip around like a pinball while I search my brain for a solution to the problem.

But there isn’t one. I’ve just spent a decade of my life trying to get this job in Toronto. I have a college degree in communications, like every other fucking jock on the planet. And a father who will have me tarred and feathered if I fuck up in Toronto.

Jamie Canning was my first crush and my first love. But he was never mine to have.

There’s one silver lining here. Just one. I know Jamie’s pissed right now because he’s feeling rejected. That’s never fun. But I know in my gut he’ll move on. The Hollys of the world are waiting to take him back. Some cute girl will catch his eye before the week is through, and a few months from now, today’s disaster will be just a bad memory.

As will I.

I swallow that thought down, then look on the closet floor for my suitcase.