Page 11 of Shattered On Ice

“What, you don’t want to go to the wedding of your teammate and friend?” I ask. “The polite thing to do is to RSVP on time to help them plan. Didn’t your parents teach you manners? Glazer, my ass.” Tabarnak. I need to stop talking before I give Chad another opening for a dirty joke. Stupid rum.

We spend the rest of the day making fun of each other, laughing, and enjoying our freedom from the season. When we finally make it back to the dock, I’m still thinking about Rook’s upcoming trip to Italy, and wondering if that means Knight is going with him, or if he’ll be here in Atlanta, all alone.

It’s a dangerous train of thought, because I’ve already gone down a path of what-ifs and could-be’s that I should never even consider in the first place. Mainly, that I’ll be back in Atlanta in August, and maybe I could spend some time getting to know Knight without worrying about Rook finding out.

Four

Knight

“Hey, wanna go out dancing with some of the guys?”

I look up at Rook, leaning into my room with a huge smile and an expectant look on his face. “You are going dancing?” The disbelief is clear in my voice before I can wrangle my thoughts. This is an unusual request. My brother isn’t really the dancing type. He’s more of the lean-on-the-bar-watching-sports kind of guy.

“Yeah. Ryder and Knox are going to this gay club called Luscious and invited a bunch of us. The team went after Pride night this season, and it was cool. The guys are handsy as fuck, but the attention is kind of nice, ya know?”

“Wait, you went to a gay club and didn't tell me?” I’m fully invested now as I set my book down and lean forward, beckoning him in. What kind of alternate world am I in?

I expected this Friday night to be like any other. I’d order in, read a new thriller, and go to bed when I got tired. Maybe tonight would be the breaking point, and I’d finally reply to Westin to see if he wanted to…chat. He sent me a text after the lake asking if I was going to Italy with Rook, and I haven't answered him.

The few brief moments we had were so electric it scared me. I know there’s a pull to him that I should fight, for the sake of my relationship with my brother, but it’s hard to deny. I’ve composed and deleted at least ten messages in the last week alone, keeping myself from sending them with a sheer force of will that should really be applauded. I need some friends in this damn city so I can have someone else to talk me off the ledge of my own self-destruction. Maybe going out dancing is exactly what I need.

Rook bounces on the bed next to me, jostling me out of my spiraling thoughts. “It was pretty cool. I see why you’d go to a club like that. Friendly people, good energy, nice drinks, and the music slaps.”

I give Rook a knowing grin. Of course, they’re friendly. Rook is six-two, built like the professional athlete he is, and often gets told he looks kind of like Channing Tatum. Anyone at a gay club would love him, and he’s so sweet and oblivious, he wouldn't even know they were hitting on him. I love my brother, but he doesn’t get subtlety. You need to smack the man in the face with a two-by-four of upfrontness so he understands what you mean.

I chuckle ruefully. “I’m sure it is. So you’re going to this place tonight, with your gay friends?” Clarity is key here. I need to know the details.

“Whoa, now.” Rook holds up his hand in a stop-sign gesture with sincere seriousness. “Ryder is bisexual. You’ve taught me better than that. I’m going with my queer friends and my straight friends. Nico and Westy said they’d go, too. So it would be three straight guys, including me, and if you came, three queer guys.” He stops, looking puzzled. “I guess most everyone else there will be queer too, huh?”

I laugh and pat his shoulder. I’m proud he knows the difference and has made the distinction. “And these friends invited me to go with them, or are you extending an invite out of pity?” He’s notorious for doing that. I’ve shown up to too many functions that Rook assured me I was invited to, only to be left feeling really stupid when the looks and whispers started.

“Ryder invited you by name, see?” He holds up his cell phone and scrolls through a group chat, then points to a text from Ryder.

I scan it.

Ryder: Bring Knight, I bet he’s a better dancer than you are.

Nico: That’s not hard. Rook doesn't do more than the shoulder shuffle.

Rook: Excuse me, Lilah would say otherwise if our last trip to Luscious is anything to go on. You should remember, we had her ready to blow between us.

Nico: Rook, that was supposed to stay in the club, bro. Stop talking.

I stop reading and look up at my grinning brother. “When do we leave?”

I haven’t been to a club in Atlanta. I actually haven't been out dancing in years. I play with the chain around my neck and second-guess my attire while we walk up to the nondescript gray building in downtown Atlanta. The line wrapping around the building is full of beautiful men who would have turned my head any other day. They may as well be cardboard cutouts because I have Westin Dumont beside me, and I can't think of anything other than the spicy scent of his cologne and the electric magnetism that crackles between us.

Rook insisted we stop and pick up Westin on our way. They’re joined at the hip at this point, and Rook loves to flaunt that he has a best friend, much to my disappointment over what could have been. I was stuck in the backseat, talking myself down from a panic attack and working through a grounding exercise, knowing it wouldn't do any good to freak out over a situation of my own making. It is what it is. Westin is here, and I can’t lust after him. I care about my brother too much to do that to him again.

Ryder, Knox, Nico, and, surprisingly, Campbell, wave us over to where they’re already in line, and we join them. They trade a round of back slaps and hellos, with Rook and Campbell studiously avoiding each other. If I didn't know my brother so well, I might think there was something else there, but he’s so transparent it’s hard for him to hide his feelings, and he truly has issues with his linemate that are more than shared. I quietly study the two of them to be sure they don't suddenly lunge at each other at the slightest provocation, intent on doing bodily damage. Mercifully, the line moves quickly, and we make it inside, where they separate before anything happens.

Luscious is dark, humid, and loud. The club beats pulse along with the spinning, colorful lights that highlight the men dancing and moving all around us as we make our way around the perimeter of the club. Nico and Campbell take our drink orders and turn to the bar while the rest of us scope out the VIP area that Knox somehow managed to secure for us. Perks of being with a group of famous athletes, I guess.

“I love this spot,” Rook says over the music, gesturing to the curved, purple benches that look out over the sea of people writhing below. “Good people watching.”

I nod, trying to look out at the crowd of dancing men. If he knew the only people watching I’ve managed is drooling over the man next to him, dressed in black thigh-hugging slacks and a charcoal button-down. All of the hockey players are wearing nice clothes and look good—it’s impossible not to with their insane physiques—but I only have eyes for Westin, and I’m working hard to avoid letting anyone else know it.

As if he knows the direction of my thoughts, Westin turns and catches my eye, a smirk turning up his full lips.