Body Checked by My Straight Captain novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Six A.M.

In the empty rink Lars says he is not straight and sets the terms: road trips only, never at the rink, no first names, over when the season ends; they kiss anyway, and Brody is watching from the far gate.

Ingram Arena was dark except for the work lights over the ice.

The Zamboni had been through, and the sheet lay clean and white from end to end.

Ty came in through the players' tunnel at five to six with his skates over his shoulder.

He had changed his shirt twice at home. He hated that he knew it.

Lars was sitting on the boards by the home bench in a gray Lakemont sweatshirt.

Two paper cups of coffee stood on the ledge beside him.

He did not smile. He pushed one of the cups an inch toward Ty.

"You came," Lars said.

"You told me to."

"I tell people a lot of things. They don't all come."

Ty took the cup. It was too sweet, and he realized Lars had put sugar in it without asking.

He drank it anyway.

"You wanted to talk," Ty said. "So talk."

Lars looked at the ice for a while.

"I'm not straight," he said.

He said it plainly.

It seemed to cost him nothing that Ty could see.

"Okay," Ty said, because his own voice was not working properly yet. "Does the team know?"

"The team thinks what it thinks. I never said anything, so I never had to take it back."

"That's a lot of work for no reason."

"It's not work. Nobody asks me, and I don't hand out my business."

Ty almost laughed. It was nearly word for word what he told himself.

"Then why am I here?" he asked.

Lars turned his head and looked at him fully for the first time that morning.

"Because of the plaza."

"You walked out."

"I walked out because I was about to put you through that door, with the whole team outside."

Ty's face went hot. He did not look away.

"That's a bad reason to leave," he said.

"It's the only good one I had."

Lars got down off the boards.

Standing, he was close enough that Ty had to tilt his chin up.

The work lights made his green eyes look pale.

"I want to try this," Lars said. "But we do it with rules."

"I don't remember voting for rules."

"You're voting now."

Ty crossed his arms over the coffee. "Go on."

"One. Road trips only, behind a locked door."

"Two?"

"Never at the rink. Not in the locker room, not on the ice, not in the tunnel."

"Why?"

"Because you earn more ice time than you get," Lars said.

"If anyone links us, every shift you win looks like a favor from the captain."

Ty stared at him.

He had spent two seasons hearing that his name was the only reason he skated.

He had not expected Lars to know exactly where that landed.

"Three," Lars went on. "No first names in front of anyone. You call me Cap. I call you Ingram."

"And four?"

"It ends the night the season does."

That one sat in the air between them.

"So I get five weeks," Ty said.

"Until the title game, if we get there."

"And if you decide you don't want me by next Friday?"

"Then I'll say so."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yeah." Lars's mouth moved. It was almost a smile. "I'll say it to your face."

Ty laughed once, caught off guard.

"I've got a rule," he said.

"Go."

"You don't call me Prince at the rink. Not once. I don't care whose voice it comes out of."

Lars looked at him for a long moment.

"Deal," he said, and his voice had changed.

Neither of them moved.

Then Ty put down the coffee, grabbed the front of Lars's sweatshirt in one fist, and hauled him in.

Their mouths met hard.

Lars made a low sound against his lips.

He caught Ty by the jaw with one big hand.

Ty's back hit the boards, and the whole wall shook.

Lars's tongue slid against his, slow and deliberate.

Ty got both hands under the sweatshirt, flat against the heat of Lars's stomach.

Lars's breath stuttered, and he kissed him harder.

"This is rule two," Ty muttered against his mouth.

"I know what it is."

"You're breaking it."

"It starts next trip." Lars bit his bottom lip, lightly. "Today doesn't count."

A blade scraped on the ice.

They broke apart.

Brody Hanratty stood at the far gate with his skates laced and his stick in one hand.

He was early for the six-thirty skate. He was twenty feet away.

He looked at the two coffee cups on the ledge.

Then he looked at Ty's mouth, and he kept looking a beat too long.

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