Page 101 of Line Change

He hasn’t treated me differently. Bobby doesn’t look at me in the showers or make jokes I can hear, which should make facing him easier. It doesn’t.

Nolan hasn’t treated me badly either. On the ice, he calls for the puck and gives it up when the play is there. He tells me when I’m drifting too low and swears at Bobby when Bobby misses a pass. Then we go back to the locker room, and Nolan talks to everyone except me.

I didn’t realize how much we talked until he stopped. My phone stays quiet at night. Nobody sends me terrible gifs or asks if I’m hungry. After road games, Nolan gets on the elevator with somebody else while I go back to my room alone.

The team might be playing better now than when we were spending every night together. I keep waiting for that to make these two weeks easier.

I need to get my shit together. Even if Nolan never lets me near him again, I can’t spend the rest of the season insisting nothing about me has changed.

Can I be bi if he’s the only man I’ve ever wanted?

I skip ahead. The dark-haired guy puts the other man on his stomach, spreads his thighs, and works his mouth lower. He uses his tongue while reaching underneath to stroke the guy’s cock.

I start thinking about Nolan on his stomach instead, tattoos moving over his back while I hold him open. I want to hear what he’d sound like with my mouth on his ass and my hand around his cock. I want to find out how long he’d let me tease him before he started swearing at me.

My dick finally starts to get hard.

Great. The gay porn has confirmed that I want to eat Nolan’s ass.

I close the video before the scene changes.

The problem might be porn. I’ve never liked straight porn much either. Watching strangers have sex feels like watching somebody else’s game film when I already know the system. I can see what’s happening, but none of it belongs to me.

Women aren’t the question. I’ve wanted women my entire adult life. I’ve enjoyed sex with them and cared about some of them, even if none of the relationships lasted.

But how many did I want the way I want Nolan?

I can’t think of one who made me this hungry all the time, got into every empty minute of my day, or made me want to drag them out of a crowded room because somebody else had a hand on them.

Maybe the man part has nothing to do with it. I keep coming back to Nolan.

I shut the laptop and get off the couch.

Porn and sitting alone in my condo until I talk myself back into the same answer aren’t going to solve this.

Nolan has a team outreach event tonight. I know because the schedule went to all of us, not because I’ve started tracking where he goes. He’ll be busy long enough that I can visit Marlowe’s without running into him.

I consider finding another gay bar. Seattle has plenty. Going somewhere no one knows me might make more sense if the purpose is to find out how I feel around other men.

Marlowe’s is familiar. I know where to park and which beer to order. The last time I was there, no one cared that I was a hockey player or that I was straight. Mostly they cared whether Micah cheated at foosball.

Marlowe’s doesn’t intimidate me anymore.

I drive there.

The bar is busy enough that I have to wait inside the door while a group moves past. I look toward the tables along the back wall first.

Nolan isn’t there.

Relief comes with enough disappointment to make this entire idea feel worse.

Micah is sitting near the foosball table with a beer in front of him. He sees me before I can decide whether to leave and raises one hand over his head.

I could pretend I didn’t see him, turn around, and try another bar.

I’ve done enough running for one lifetime. I literally ran away from Bobby, who once got stuck in a practice jersey because he forgot to untie the neck.

I go over.