Chapter 6: Eleven O'Clock

At eleven exactly, someone knocked on Ty's door.

He had been standing in the middle of his apartment for twenty minutes, not sitting on anything.

His father paid for the place.

It was a clean two-bedroom over a bike shop, with a view of the lake and nothing on the walls.

Ty opened the door.

Lars stood in the hallway in his team jacket with the hood up and snow on his shoulders.

"Rule one," Ty said.

"I know."

"It says road trips only."

"I'm the captain. I'm amending it."

Ty laughed, helplessly, and stepped back.

Lars came in, and the door shut behind him.

He pushed his hood back and looked around the empty living room.

"You live like a hotel," he said.

"My dad picked the furniture."

"It shows."

"Did you come here to judge my couch?"

"No."

Lars dropped his bag on the floor, and a second later he had Ty against the wall by the shoulders.

Ty's head hit the plaster. He didn't care.

Lars kissed him hard, and Ty got both hands into his hair.

"You didn't say my name today," Ty said into his mouth. "In the locker room."

"I know."

"It sucked."

"I know." Lars's lips moved down his jaw. "I'm sorry. I'd do it again."

"I know," Ty said, and meant it.

Neither of them said anything else for a while.

They reached the bedroom by way of the hallway wall.

Ty's shirt went over his head halfway there.

Lars stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at him.

The pale scar through Ty's eyebrow caught the lamplight.

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