Chapter Thirteen

ALEX MISSES ELI.

It’s stupid because Eli hasn’t gone anywhere. He still comes over at least once a week and shows up intermittently to practices and sends daily texts and Snapchats to Alex, as well as what feels like half the team at this point. But it’s still not the same as having Eli in his home. Playing his records. Dancing in his kitchen. Sleeping across the hall.

He only stayed for three nights, but it was enough that now, two weeks later, Alex still knows exactly what he’s missing.

And his chest hurts with overwhelming affection and resignation and other emotions he doesn’t even have names for.

He doesn’t know what to do about it.

He buries his face in Bells’s soft belly fur, risking her wrath, and dedicates the first fifteen minutes of his Saturday morning to feeling sorry for himself. Half because he’s hungover from the team’s game-winning celebration the night before, half because he’s pretty sure he’s in love, and it’s terrible.

“It would be nice if Hawk lived here too, huh?” he asks Bells.

She bats his ear with one paw but keeps her claws sheathed, so he takes that as affirmation.

“Maybe next year?” he says, getting fur in his mouth. “I know Eli doesn’t want to stay in a dorm, but his scholarship only covers on-campus housing. Do you think he’d want to move in with us? I know he really likes the kitchen. And there’s a dog park right around the corner for Hawk. I could reserve him a parking garage spot by the elevator. Should probably get on the waiting list for one now though.”

Bells, it seems, has had enough.

With a sigh, Alex watches her escape to the opposite end of the bed.

“It would be weird to ask him now, huh?”

It’s hard to believe they only met three months ago.

Bells is judging him.

He decides to go make breakfast, and by “make breakfast,” he means defrost a stack of Eli’s blueberry protein pancakes and continue to feel sorry for himself because the pancakes are amazing, but they would be so much better if they’d been made fresh. By Eli. In his kitchen right now.

Twenty minutes later, Alex has ordered a pair of Louboutins to be delivered to Eli’s dorm by express mail later that day. And he’s booked Eli a flight to visit Cody over Thanksgiving break because he knows Eli can’t afford to go home, and Cody can’t go back either because he has a game the day before Thanksgiving. Eli really misses Cody, so seeing him would make Eli happy. Apparently, Alex doesn’t know how to handle emotions, and he’s a dumpster fire of a human being. He starts shopping for new skates in Eli’s size, too, but stops himself because he’s probably already progressed into unacceptably creepy territory.

Come take my laptop away from me, he texts Jeff and then decides to go back to sleep and deal with the world later.

When Alex wakes up again, it’s to his phone ringing (maybe it’s been ringing for a while? The world is still fuzzy) and his bedroom door opening, which is a weird confluence of events.

He doesn’t answer the phone in favor of squinting at the intruder.

It’s Jeff, looking amused.

Which makes sense because only Jeff and Eli have a key to his place.

“Hey kid,” Jeff says. “You might want to answer your phone.”

When it starts ringing again a second later, Alex does. “Muh?” he manages.

“Mr. Price,” Eli says, well, shouts really. “Do you mind explaining to me why I have two airplane tickets in my inbox?”

“Um. So you can go visit Cody? You said he had to stay over the break since he has a game. And you couldn’t go home. And you wished you could see him play.”

“Yes. Yes, I did say all of those things, but that doesn’t tell me why I have airline tickets that I did not buy.”

“I bought them?”

“I gathered that, thank you.”

He doesn’t sound very thankful.

Alex’s head hurts. “I’m sorry?”

Eli mutters something in Spanish, and Alex is still confused but is now also a little turned on. He knew angry Russian did it for him, but it seems he needs to add judgmental Spanish to his list of kinks as well.

He groans a little and decides maybe he should pay attention to what Eli is hissing at him through the phone.

“—not like I don’t appreciate it because, holy shit, it will be so good to see Cody. But you can’t just do things like that without asking!”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeats. “You were so great while I was hurt, even though I was a dick, and you’re one of my best friends now. And, like, if Coops wanted to go visit a friend, he’d just buy a ticket himself because he’s loaded, which makes it hard to do things for Coops. But you’re not, uh, loaded, which means I can do things for you. And I want to. Because you do things for me.”

Eli is quiet for a moment. “That…is weirdly sweet.”

Alex exhales in relief. Then winces. “Also, uh, your last class gets out at three today, right?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be back at your dorm between four and five? You should be getting a package then. You’ll have to sign for it.”

“Alex.”

“It’s not a big deal!”

Except it is. Especially if Eli thinks the plane tickets are too much.

Jesus. What was he thinking? He should have at least spread them out a little. Plane tickets for Thanksgiving. Shoes for Christmas. But he wants to give Eli skates for Christmas.

“Alex,” Eli says, voice sharp. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but I don’t need some sort of charity if that’s what’s happening here.”

“It’s not charity! It’s nothing! I didn’t even get you a first-class ticket!”

He seriously considered it. And he did make sure it was a bulkhead seat so Hawk would have plenty of room. Eli doesn’t need to know that though.

“These tickets are four hundred dollars!” Eli shouts. “That’s not ‘nothing’! It’s something!”

“I was just having a lot of feelings this morning!” Alex yells back. “And I have way too much money. Can you please just let me do nice things for you?!”

Eli is silent for several seconds.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I’m coming over to make you dinner tonight,” Eli snaps.

“Great,” Alex mutters back. “Just make sure it’s after five so you can sign for the package.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They hang up on each other at the same time, and Alex childishly throws his phone to the foot of the bed.

“That went well,” Jeff says.

 

IT DOESN’T OCCUR to Alex to warn Jessica because he doesn’t anticipate it will be a big deal. After a run with Jeff and a late lunch with Kuzy, he’s cleaning the kitchen counters, guard down, when he gets a call from Jessica.

“Hey, what’s up?”

There’s a distinctive, judgmental pause.

“Are you and Elijah dating?”

“What?” He sets down the counter spray. “No.”

“Then do you want to explain to me why you bought someone who is not your boyfriend nine-hundred-dollar sex shoes?”

“Oh my god, they are not sex shoes—and how do you even know about that? He probably doesn’t even have them yet.”

“They really are. And he does. Because he’s just posted a picture of them on Instagram, and the internet is already collectively losing its mind.”

“I—hold on.”

Alex puts her on speaker so he can open the Instagram app.

Sure enough, the top photograph on his feed is a picture of the shoes, newly unpackaged and arranged artfully on top of the gilded box they came in.

Eli has captioned the picture:

When you’re friends with @AP23 you must submit yourself to ridiculous gifts as thanks for common decency.

#excessive #louboutins #heisaterriblepatienttho

Alex doesn’t see what the big deal is.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Alex,” Jessica says patiently. “This is not the kind of gift a heterosexual guy gives to his male friend. Would you ever buy Jeff shoes like this?”

“Yes? If he asked for a pair. Look. I just wanted to do something nice for Eli because he took care of me the first couple days when I was injured. And he cooks for me all the time. And just—I knew they’d make him happy.”

“Oh my god,” Jessica says faintly. “I can’t even be mad at you when you’re so stupidly earnest.”

“Thank you?”

She sighs. “Listen; up until now this thing with Eli has been great publicity for you. It humanizes you; makes people forget about your past…exploits. And since Dmitri and Jeff seem just as close to him, no one was talking or making assumptions. The narrative was progressive without being polarizing. Straight Hockey Players Cool with Gay Friend. But we might have to do some damage control now.”

“They’re just a pair of shoes,” he says, still baffled.

“And that’s the line you’ll stick to. Unless you want to come out.”

“No. I’m not—” He chokes a little on the denial because he hasn’t had to say the words in so long that he’s gotten a little too comfortable with the truth.

“I’m not gay,” he says, voice rough. “Eli is just a friend.”

“Also the line you’ll stick to, then. You have a video interview with V Magazine the day after tomorrow. Considering the timing, they’ll likely ask you about this. If you don’t think you can handle it, we can postpone.”

“No,” Alex says, breathless. “It’s fine. Do people really think—?”

Jessica sighs again. “This isn’t a disaster, Alex. But little things like this can quickly add up. You need to be careful.”

He swallows, and it hurts his throat.

“If—” She pauses and then starts again. “Just so you know, if there were a gay or bisexual player on the team, the organization would back them 100 percent. PR already has an assortment of mock-up press releases and game plans in the event that a player is forcefully outed or intentionally decides to come out. It wouldn’t be easy by any means. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world either.”

Alex knows he should probably say something but can’t seem to make words work.

“Alex?” Jessica says, sounding concerned.

He hangs up because he can’t breathe.

He tries to call for Bells, but the room tips sideways, and he has to lean against the island for support. He slowly slides to the floor, back pressed against the paneled wood. His breath is harsh and discordant in his ears.

Eli finds him that way some indeterminable amount of time later.

He comes in yelling but stops almost immediately when he sees Alex on the floor. “What the fuck— Alex, are you—? Hey. Hey.”

Alex tries to tell him he’s fine even though that’s demonstrably untrue.

“Shit,” Eli says. “So, I think you’re having a panic attack. Is it cool if Hawk and I help? Can I touch you?”

Alex manages a nod, and Eli unclips Hawk’s lead, murmuring something to her. A moment later, there’s a heavy weight across his lap, a sharp elbow pressed to his upper thigh, and a large warm mass of dog leans back against his chest. He tucks his face into her neck because it seems like the thing to do.

Eli slides onto the ground next to him. “Hey, can you try to breathe with me?”

Alex nods.

It takes several minutes, but eventually, his breathing slows to something like normal, and the top of his head feels solid again.

Eli, still pressed shoulder to shoulder with him, gives him a little nudge. “How you doing?”

“Better,” he admits, straightening.

Hawk tips her face up to lick his chin.

He smiles despite himself.

“So,” Eli says conversationally. “I didn’t know you have panic attacks.”

“It’s been a while,” Alex says, exhausted. “I had a bad stretch where I used to get them all the time, but it’s been months since I’ve had one.”

“You want to go lie down in the bedroom for a little bit?” Eli asks.

“You coming with me?” Alex answers because he’s shameless.

“Sure,” Eli says quietly. “We can even give Hawk special permission to join us on the bed if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They move to the bedroom—where Bells has been asleep the entire time—rude—and Alex sheds his jeans without thinking.

Eli doesn’t seem bothered, though, and follows him onto the bed, still fully clothed.

Well. “Fully” might be arguable; the tiny shorts he’s wearing don’t leave much to the imagination.

Alex fumbles for a moment, one hand blind in the drawer of his nightstand, until he manages to find the remote for the window blinds. He presses the button to close them, and the room goes slowly dark, leaving him feeling vulnerable and unsettled.

He watches as Eli curls into a half-moon facing him, then pulls the duvet up to cover them both. Hawk settles, warm and solid, at the foot of the bed. Bells moves from the chair by the window, stretching, and repositions herself in a spherical lump beside Alex’s head.

Eli watches him, quiet, maybe a little worried.

“Sorry,” Alex whispers because the dark makes him feel like he should. “I know you were probably looking forward to yelling at me when you got here, and I ruined it.”

“Ah, yes,” Eli says. “I’m sure that was your conniving plan all along. You want to tell me what happened? I can save the yelling for later. Or—do you want to call your therapist?”

“No. I see her the day after tomorrow anyway. Could you call Jessica back for me though?”

It’s embarrassing to ask, but he’s so tired.

“Sure. What were you talking about?”

“The picture you posted on Instagram. Of the shoes. She called to tell me I have to be careful. Because giving you a gift like that causes speculation.”

Eli narrows his eyes. “Speculation about your sexuality? You didn’t buy the shoes for yourself.” He sits up for a moment to extract his phone from his pocket. “I have notes turned off; I haven’t even looked at it since I posted it. Hold on.”

Eli scrolls through the comments for a moment and then bites his lip. “I mean. There aren’t many mean ones, but most of the comments are about what a ‘gay’ gift it is. That could just be in reference to me, but—I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how it would look. I can take it down? Except that probably wouldn’t help at this point. Shit,” he exhales, turning off his phone and then flipping it over as if that will give him additional distance from its content.

“I just keep making things worse for you.”

Eli goes quiet for a moment, bottom lip tucked tightly between his teeth. “Maybe,” he says haltingly, “I shouldn’t spend so much time with—”

And Alex can’t even let him finish that sentence because no. Because once again, Eli is upset and feels responsible for something that isn’t even his fault, when he hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s completely unfair, and the fact that Eli is talking about spending even less time with Alex to protect him and his fucking ‘image’ or whatever is—

“No,” Alex interrupts. “No, you know what? This is bullshit.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have to not give you certain gifts because of some fucked up unwritten heteronormative rules about what men are and aren’t allowed to do for their male friends. I should be trying to change the way people think, not just blindly following the shitty system that exists.”

Eli blinks at him. “Alex. That’s admirable. But it’s not your responsibility to try to challenge the system. Just like it’s not your responsibility to come out just because you’re gay and have a platform. You have to do what’s best for you and—”

“What’s best for me is not having to overthink every single thing I or my friends post on Instagram. Or remembering to police the way I act, or— The whole point of the You Can Play videos Jeff and I do is that even if you don’t fit into the stereotypical profile of a hockey player, you can still play, and you can still play well. I may not be ready to come out, but the least I can do is not be a massive hypocrite by intentionally fitting myself into a mold while telling kids they shouldn’t have to.”

He feels a little breathless again, but this time in a good way.

Eli is smiling at him. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I agree with you. Also, points for using ‘heteronormative.’”

“That would be Jeff’s influence,” Alex admits. “Here, can you hand me my phone?”

Eli does and a few moments later, Alex tells him to check Twitter.

Alex has posted two screencaps from Eli’s Instagram—one of the post itself, another of some of the comments. He’s captioned it:

Can’t a bro buy his bro a pair of Louboutins?

#fuckyourheteronormativebullshit #treatyobro

Jeff has already liked it. As Eli’s looking at it, Kuzy, then two more Hell Hounds like it, then Cody, and then it’s too hard to keep up.

Alex’s phone rings a moment later.

He answers without looking and is entirely unsurprised to hear Jessica on the other line.

“I really wish you would consult with me before you do things like this,” she says, more fondly than aggrieved. “Though I will admit, it’s an approach I hadn’t considered.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“I guess if anyone can pull off cavalier, hypermasculine security, it’s you.”

“Thank you?”

Jessica doesn’t say anything for a short stretch, and he can hear her typing in the background.

“Alex,” she says finally. “Are you okay? I was a little worried after our conversation earlier.”

He swallows. “I’m fine.” And then, because he’s feeling reckless. “Eli is here with me now.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to…Eli. But, Alex, please do keep in mind what I said earlier.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye.”

He drops the phone onto the mattress between him and Eli and closes his eyes.

“You all right?” Eli asks, bumping his knuckles against Alex’s.

Alex catches Eli’s wrist before he can retreat, turns Eli’s hand so he can press his thumb gently to the center of his palm. He traces the lines there—the indentations he can feel but not see. He slides their fingers together, and they mesh like a habit.

He’s being selfish, he knows that, but he’s also so tired, and he just wants—

“I’m good,” he says belatedly, opening his eyes.

Eli looks…confused, maybe. Or sad. But he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Okay,” he says. “Good.”