Work Text:
Step 1: Stop obsessing over Ilya Rozanov
Shane huffed in frustration and pulled his hand away from his cock, dropping his forehead against the tiles of the shower. It had been a week and he hadn’t been able to jerk off to anything but the memory of Rozanov tilting his head back, sweat dripping down his throat, lips red and wet.
Every time he thought of it he went hot and shivery, and that thought intruded on him again and again, in the most inconvenient situations: during meals with his parents, during sessions with his trainer, when he was hanging out with the group of hockey kids he vaguely considered his friends.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking of Rozanov? Why had that encounter been hotter than anything else that had ever happened to him? He’d had actual sex, for god’s sake! Why couldn’t he get off on the thought of his actual dick inside an actual pussy without Rozanov’s smirking face intruding on the picture, without his mind throwing up extremely unhelpful thoughts like ‘what if I had had Rozanov’s cock pressed against my lips instead of his water bottle?’ and ‘what if I had licked Rozanov’s cock?’ and ‘what if Rozanov had pressed his cock into my mouth?’
Shane took a deep breath and took hold of his cock again, trying to keep his mind still and empty like he did when he was meditating, thinking that maybe he could just come from sensation alone. He thumbed at his frenulum, stroked his hand down his shaft. ‘You will be seeing plenty of me.’ Rozanov’s voice ghosted through his head and Shane tensed and came against the tiles.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his hand on it to wash it away, then turning off the water and grabbing the squeegie and cleaning the walls of the shower stall.
“Long shower?” his mom asked, with raised eyebrows and a smirk when he came into the kitchen a few minutes later.
Shane felt his cheeks burn and went to pour himself a mug of coffee.
Step 2: Admit that maybe there’s something going on
So, Shane wasn’t an idiot. He had some idea what it meant to want to suck a dick. But he was eighteen. Wasn’t that something you always knew, or something? Why would he have these feelings now? He’d had a girlfriend, after all. He’d enjoyed kissing her and touching her boobs, right? Sex hadn’t been everything it had been made out to be, but it had been okay.
Okay, maybe Shane was an idiot.
Had he been attracted to men before Rozanov? He’d spent a lot of time around naked boys, muscular boys, boys like Rozanov, with big hockey asses and big hockey thighs. He remembered when the boys on his team had all been normal looking boys, before they’d all started growing giant biceps and big asses and pubic hair. Shane had been fascinated by the changes puberty was making to their bodies— he’d always been a year or two younger than his teammates until he got to the OHL— but he’d tried not to look.
He’d always tried not to look, had stared at the wall or up at the ceiling and pushed his face into the water when he’d started blushing at how unconcerned his teammates had been at the nudity of the situation, chatting and chirping, sometimes even play fighting and wrestling each other wet and naked like Ancient Greek wrestlers!
Okay, so, yes, Shane was well aware he was practically a Victorian governess with a case of the vapours (whatever those were) fainting at the sight of full male nudity.
(He’d been called a prude before.)
But had he been attracted to any of it? To the giant asses or the dangling dicks or the shoulders that bulged with muscle, especially after someone got done with a set, his shirt stained with sweat, lifting up the corner of it to dab at his forehead, revealing a flat stomach and trail of hair going down…
…Shit.
Step 3: Conduct research
Shane thought about it and thought about it. He looked at guys on the street, guys on the bus, guys in the fitness room at the training rink. Thin guys and muscular guys and fat guys with bellies hanging over their belts. Guys his age and guys much older. Guys with beards and mustaches and shaved faces. He imagined kissing them, imagined them naked, imagined himself sucking their dicks and then felt incredibly embarrassed for thinking about strangers that way.
…Kind of.
But how did he know for sure? Was there some kind of checklist or diagnosis? How did everyone else figure this out?
He opened an incognito window and googled ‘how do you know if you’re gay?’ Turned out there was a quiz you could take. How convenient!
Step 4: Take a quiz
Question 1: Have you ever had feelings for a same-gender close friend?
☐ I think so. That’s why I’m taking this quiz.
☐ Wait, what’s the difference between friendship and a crush?
☐ Don’t think so, but we’re so close people joke that we’re dating.
☐ Nope. We’re just friends.
The first question and he was already stumped. Was Rozanov his friend? Was the ‘friend’ part of the question important? Shane could say ‘yes’ if you replaced ‘friend’ with ‘hockey competitor’. Did he have feelings for Rozanov, or was it just lust? But lust was still a feeling, right?
(It honestly seemed discriminatory for the quiz to be written this way, anyway, assuming everyone had friends. There must be gay people without friends, right? Gay people in media always seemed to serve as sassy emotional support for straight people, but the media was clearly not an accurate representation of reality.)
So sure, okay, he could pretend Rozanov was his friend for this one internet quiz question.
☒ I think so. That’s why I’m taking this quiz.
Question 2: Have you ever kissed someone or wanted to kiss someone of the same gender?
☐ Definitely, and it was great.
☐ I haven’t done it, but I want to try it.
☐ Yeah, and I’m not sure how I felt about it.
☐ Nope. Not interested.
Did Shane want to kiss someone of the same gender? He thought of how bright Rozanov’s eyes had been when he’d watched Shane drink the water, when his fingers had brushed against Shane’s. Yes, okay? Fine. Yes.
☒ I haven’t done it, but I want to try it.
Question 3: How do you feel about queer characters in TV shows and movies?
☐ Oh, I’ve totally watched shows just for the queer ships and storylines.
☐ I kind of feel like I can identify with queer characters.
☐ I notice queer characters, but I don’t feel strongly about them.
☐ I like the positive representation, but they don’t stand out to me.
Shane tried to think of the last queer character he’d seen in a TV show or movie and came up with nothing. What even had been the last TV show or movie he’d watched? He’d rewatched the Mighty Ducks movies when he’d been out with a few broken fingers last year. Sometimes he sat on the couch next to his mom while she watched TV. She liked The Big Bang Theory.
(Shane hated it. He hated how mean the characters always were to Sheldon. Sure, Sheldon was kind of a horrible person, but he didn’t mean to be. But the other characters were always making fun of him and playing tricks on him and he didn’t realize it and it was sad that he thought they were his friends and they always treated him like shit. People had done that to Shane before, had acted like they were his friends and then it’d turned out they were just fucking with him.)
Was there a queer character in that? Shane didn’t think so.
Shane chewed on his lips and then opened a new incognito window and googled ‘gay tv show and movie characters’.
Oh, those guys on Modern Family. Sure, okay, he’d seen a few episodes of that. The gay characters had been so flamboyant and shrill. What else? Glee? No, no, Shane definitely did not relate to that kid. Why wasn’t there an option for ‘definitely not?’
☒ I notice queer characters, but I don’t feel strongly about them.
Well, maybe Shane wasn’t gay after all. For some reason he felt a vague sense of disappointment.
Question 4: When someone asks you who you’re crushing on:
☐ A name comes to mind immediately, and it’s someone of the same gender.
☐ I make up a name or pick someone random.
☐ I literally don’t get the big deal about crushes.
☐ I talk about someone of the opposite sex who I’m genuinely crushing on.
This quiz was literally harder than his Physics AP exam had been.
No one had asked Shane who he was crushing on in a while, mostly because most people assumed he was still dating Jessica. But if someone did ask who he was crushing on, well, he was pretty sure he knew where his mind would go.
☒ A name comes to mind immediately, and it’s someone of the same gender.
Okay, that seemed pretty gay.
Question 5: Has anyone ever asked you if you were gay?
☐ People pretty much assume that about me all the time.
☐ I’ve been asked that once or twice.
☐ No one has asked directly if I’m gay, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they did ask.
☐ Never. People assume I’m straight.
Should Shane assume the quiz wasn’t asking if people were demanding to know if he was a fag because he:
1. Had just crushed them on the ice
2. Didn’t want to go out drinking
3. Ate a macrobiotic diet
4. Used quality shower products
5. Refused to get into fights
6. Was part Asian
?
Or maybe that did count? Maybe he really did eschew alcohol and meat products and use good shower gel and shampoo all because he was gay? He chewed on his lip and then reminded himself not to chew on his lip.
This quiz was also harder than his Calc AP exam.
He finally decided to go with the middle ground. Maybe some of those assholes had been serious, after all. Maybe they thought that the entirety of East Asia was gay and reproduced parthenogenically. Who knew?
☒ I’ve been asked that once or twice.
Question 6:
Jeez, how many questions were there?
Question 6: When you imagine being in a relationship, what do you picture?
☐ I can only see myself with someone of the same sex.
☐ I’m not sure. Any gender seems okay.
☐ I’ll probably be with someone of the opposite sex.
☐ I can only see myself with someone of the opposite sex.
Shane had always had a vague vision of his future relationship: a smart, beautiful, kind, funny woman. They’d have a few kids and a house like the one he’d grown up with. That was what the future was supposed to be like, right? Were there other possible futures? He guessed some people didn’t get married. Or people got married and got divorced. Gay people got married too— it had been legalized in Canada a few years before. And they adopted kids, like that flamboyant shrill gay couple in Modern Family. Or wasn’t there like some way you could get a woman to carry your kid but then disappear from the picture, or something?
Shane tried to imagine that same vague picture of the future but with a husband instead of a wife. The husband in his mental image looked alarmingly like Rozanov. He’d probably leer across the breakfast table and make comments about bending Shane over it.
(Shane was more curious than repulsed at the thought. He probably didn’t actually need to take this quiz.)
Shane tried to imagine Jessica instead. Jessica was a very nice person. She was kind and thoughtful and tidy. She’d been his lab partner in their AP Physics class and she’d been way smarter than him, too. She’d been very understanding about how packed his schedule had been, how often he’d had to go away for trips, how he’d missed all the school dances.
Jessica would make a wonderful spouse. Way better than that asshole Rozanov.
For one thing, Shane had been able to kiss her in public. Not that he had— Jessica’d felt the same way about PDA Shane had. But they could have. He’d held her hand a few times. Her hand had been clammy and she’d been too short for it to be comfortable, but he’d been able to hold it without anyone thinking it was weird.
He wished there was an option for ‘I don’t think about the future’, but that would be a lie. Shane thought about the future constantly. He didn’t eat french fries because of the future. He’d gotten to the Show and he was going to stay there until he physically couldn’t.
He’d be able to play until he was forty, barring any major accidents. Then he’d probably become a coach or something. Maybe he’d invest in a team, help them build up. Or he could have his own skating school, or maybe start some kind of charity. He daydreamed about it occasionally, all the cool things he could do with all the money he’d have. Good things. Things to help people.
It would be nice to do that with someone.
Shane tried to imagine a different man in the imaginary house. The first man that came to mind was the red-haired guy from Modern Family. Ugh, no. Okay, what about, like, a movie star? Like… He drew a blank. He googled movie stars. Okay, Hugh Jackman. He was hot, right? Like he had that accent and he had muscles and he played that, uh, hairy superhero. Wolverine. Shane tried to imagine living with Hugh Jackman. That didn’t make any sense; Hugh Jackman was married. Okay, so some non-married guy.
Heath Ledger. He was hot. Oh, no, he was dead. Wow, Shane was bad at this.
Okay, non-married, non-dead actors. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He had a cute crooked smile. Shane could picture someone with a cute crooked smile like that in his vague future-house. Kissing him goodbye when he left for games. No— wearing his jersey and cheering for him. Maybe a more muscular version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Maybe Joseph Gordon-Levitt if he was a hockey player. That crooked smile would look charming when it was slamming Shane against the boards. Maybe Joseph Gordon-Levitt but as a hockey player and also with hazel eyes?
Shane dropped his forehead onto his keyboard and sighed. Did ‘I can only see myself with someone of the same sex’ count when you could only imagine yourself with one person of the same sex? Were there people in the world who weren’t gay or straight but just only attracted to one person?
☒ I can only see myself with someone of the same sex.
Question 7: How would you feel about identifying as gay?
☐ Yeah, that feels right.
☐ It honestly makes me a little nervous, but also kinda fits.
☐ I’m not sure how I feel.
☐ No, I really don’t think that’s me.
Shane could scream right now. He was the only one home and the neighbors were probably far enough away. He could just scream for a while. Maybe that’d be nice.
☒ It honestly makes me a little nervous, but also kinda fits.
Question 8: Have you ever felt attracted to someone of the same gender?
☐ Yes.
☐ Yeah, but everyone has, right?
☐ People of the same gender are just objectively more attractive.
☐ Nope.
Shane thought of how he’d stared at Rozanov’s bobbing Adam’s apple and shining lips. He sighed.
☒ Yes.
Question 9: How do you feel about dating someone of the opposite gender?
☐ I’m not interested. That would feel like a chore.
☐ I wouldn’t mind, and I’ve either wanted to do it or have done it.
☐ Maybe, but I’m not really interested in anyone.
☐ I’d definitely date (or have dated) someone of the opposite gender.
This question should have been easy. He’d dated Jessica and before her, Bridget. But it had felt like a chore. He’d had it marked on his schedule ‘text Jessica’; ‘Do something nice for Jessica’. She’d been fun and nice and every time he’d been hanging out with her he’d been wondering when he could leave.
But he’d had so much to do! He’d had team practice and personal training and games and homework and studying for school and studying for the stupid pre-draft interviews and studying for the SATs! So every minute he spent with her felt stolen from one of the other things he was supposed to do.
But dating someone probably wasn’t supposed to feel like that. You were probably supposed to feel like you never wanted to leave. Shane sighed.
☒ I’m not interested. That would feel like a chore.
Question 10: Do you ever fantasize about being with someone of the same gender?
☐ Yeah. Pretty often.
☐ Sometimes.
☐ Yes, but I’m not sure I’d actually end up with someone of the same gender.
☐ No.
Shane flushed and swallowed.
☒ Yeah. Pretty often.
Question 11: When you imagine kissing or being intimate with a future partner, how do you feel?
☐ As long as I’m with someone I really like, that sounds great.
☐ Good, I guess?
☐ I can’t imagine that, and I don’t think I’ll ever want that, regardless of gender.
☐ I’m too young for that.
‘Terrified’ was, unfortunately, not an option. Shane took a moment to be dissatisfied with the quiz writer. Did they live in a world where it was okay to be gay?
Shane was taken aback by his own thoughts. Places where it was okay to be gay existed, right? There’d been gay kids in his high school and they’d seemed fine with it. From the outside at least. From across the cafeteria.
If Shane hadn’t been in hockey, his world would probably be like that too, he realized. He’d never had a dream besides playing hockey, but he’d probably be planning on studying something. He’d liked biology. Maybe he’d become a doctor or a scientist, as stereotypical as that seemed.
If he hadn’t had hockey— which was a depressing thought— but if he hadn’t, maybe he’d have realized sooner? Maybe he wouldn’t have been dating Jessica as a way to seem normal. Maybe he’d have been sitting at that table with those kids, wearing rainbow pins and planning for pride month.
He imagined being back in that room with Rozanov, imagined if he hadn’t had had the whole weight of his hockey career pressing down on him, imagined if he could have moved closer to Rozanov without repercussion, if he could have licked the wetness off his lips, tasted the sweat-saltiness of his skin…
☒ As long as I’m with someone I really like, that sounds great.
Question 12: If you scroll through your social media feed, do you see posts from queer people?
☐ Yup. You got me.
☐ Maybe! It depends on the day.
☐ Yeah, but only because I’ve looked at one or two related posts.
☐ Probably not.
Finally, an easy one! Shane only followed hockey players, hockey teams, hockey media, and weratedogs. Weratedogs might have been queer, he didn’t know. Shane guessed that the question was really asking about people you knew were queer.
☒ Probably not.
Question 13: Flash forward 5 years: how likely is it that your partner is the same gender as you?
☐ Very likely.
☐ Pretty likely.
☐ Possible, but not super likely.
☐ Not very likely.
What was the point of this? It didn’t matter if Shane was gay. As long as he was in the NHL he could never really be gay. He couldn’t have a gay partner or go to gay things, whatever gay things were. Pride Parades? Gay Clubs? Drag shows? He wouldn’t be able to wear things with rainbows on them, except on Pride night, and that was just about being an ally because everyone knew hockey players weren’t gay.
Hockey players weren’t gay. If he’d tried licking the water off of Rozanov’s lips, Rozanov would have knocked him out and then had chirping material for the rest of time. He’d have told everyone ‘don’t let yourself be alone with Hollander, he’ll try to molest you,’ and no one would have believed him but everyone would have wondered and it would have gotten around and the guys in the locker room would have pretended to be afraid he was looking at their dicks and Montreal would end up trading him to Buffalo or somewhere because he was keeping the team from coming together and he’d eventually end up in a minor hockey league, bagging groceries on the side or something. Maybe he should just quit and become a doctor after all.
Shane realized he was hyperventilating and closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths until his heart rate slowed.
Hockey players weren’t gay.
☒ Not very likely.
Question 14: Would you be comfortable using an LGBTQ+ dating site?
☐ Absolutely! I already have one downloaded.
☐ I’m open to giving one a try.
☐ Not really, but I won’t rule it out completely.
☐ No. That makes me uncomfortable.
Shane actually laughed out loud. He couldn’t even research being gay without using an incognito window. Imagine setting up a profile on a dating site!
☒ No. That makes me uncomfortable.
Question 15: Are there a lot of LGBTQ+ individuals in your friend group?
☐ Absolutely! Lots of my friends are queer.
☐ A few good friends of mine identify as LGBTQ+.
☐ Not really—most of my friends are straight.
☐ Nope. My entire friend group is straight.
What was with this website assuming everyone had friends? Shane wondered. Then he wondered if everyone in his ‘friend group’ was actually straight. The guys he hung out with were all hockey players, guys he’d played with on one team or another, or guys they’d played with. Sometimes some of their girlfriends would hang out too. Shane had never invited Jessica because he thought she’d have been disgusted by them.
What if some of them were gay or queer? What if they were like him, hiding it from everyone, even themselves? That made him feel sad. Maybe everyone was hiding things because they were things hockey players didn’t do. Hiding away all the good parts of themselves except the hockey parts.
☒ Nope. My entire friend group is straight.
Question 16: What inspired you to take this quiz?
☐ I think I might be gay, but I wanted some extra validation.
☐ I identify with aspects of the queer experience but am not totally sure where I stand.
☐ I'm just curious about the result I'll get.
☐ I want to confirm that I'm heterosexual.
It was honestly a forgone conclusion at this point.
☒ I think I might be gay, but I wanted some extra validation.
🎊 You might be gay! 🎊
“Yay,” Shane said sarcastically, and shut the computer.
Step 5: Procrastinate
He paced the house restlessly for a little bit. He did his laundry, then the household laundry that was in the hamper by the laundry room, then vacuumed the floors, then answered a few emails.
He honestly felt a little lost. He usually used his summers to get ahead of all the work he would have to do during the school year, working on assignments and readings his mother would sweet-talk his teachers into giving him ahead of time. But he was headed for college in the fall and he’d forbidden his mother from even trying to contact the professors of the courses he was signed up for.
It would be better when they went up to the cottage, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it felt like all you were supposed to do there was relax, so he felt better about it. Less like he was wasting time.
Step 6: Figure out how to get gay experience so you can stop thinking about Rozanov
He opened his computer again.
🎊 You might be gay! 🎊
“Great,” Shane said. “Now what?”
Maybe Shane should hook up with a guy. He thought about Rozanov again. Maybe if he hooked up with a guy he wouldn’t keep thinking about Rozanov. He could think of someone much nicer. Like Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
Was that a stupid plan? It sounded like a stupid plan. But he didn’t know what else to do. He could— he could go back to pretending he enjoyed having sex with girls. He could get another girlfriend; it would be easy. Girls were always looking at him and playing with their hair and laughing at the things he said like he was making a joke, even when he wasn’t.
But that was cruel, wasn’t it, using a girl that way? Having sex with her when you didn’t actually enjoy it, getting into a relationship knowing you’d never actually want to be with her long term? It was just using them, not treating them like people.
Okay, so there were four paths he could take, he decided.
1. He could keep pretending to himself and everyone he knew that he was straight. He could take girls out, lie to them, and have terrible sex. The thought made him wince in disgust.
2. He could just not engage in relationships or anything. Maybe lie to people if they asked, claim he had a girlfriend or something if they were really pressuring him, but not actually have any sex or romantic interactions. It made him feel sad and lonely, but safe. He could be celibate, like a monk. Put all his energy into the game. There were guys who did that, right? Who had no sex during playoffs or whatever. He could just tell people he did that during the whole season and post-season and claimed he got his nut off during the off-season when no one was there to contradict him, or whatever. People already thought he was weird and obsessive. They’d buy it. They’d praise him for his devotion to the game.
It would be lonely. Sexually frustrating, sure, but also lonely. His teammates would go home to girlfriends and wives and he’d have an empty apartment or house. His parents would worry and his teammates would wonder and Shane would probably keep fantasizing about fucking Rozanov.
3. He could take a risk and hook up some times. How else would he really know he was gay until he’d made out with a guy and got familiar with his cock? Maybe gay sex was just as uncomfortable and boring as straight sex. Maybe he was twisting himself into all these knots for nothing.
The problem was that Shane’s face had been splashed everywhere before and after the draft. Canadians were very serious about hockey. And his mother was very determined that Shane retire from hockey— whenever he retired from hockey— with as much money as possible, so he had already begun campaigns with a few sponsors, so even people who couldn’t have cared less about hockey might have seen his Reebok ads.
He could wear a disguise. He could wear a false mustache and a wig. A mullet. He could pretend to be hick from the country.
A gay hick. There were probably gay hicks. They probably had it worse than Shane did.
Or he could go on a trip to somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized. Somewhere where they didn’t have hockey but did have gay people. He could tell his parents he wanted to get away from the pressure, lie that he was going with his friends. He had his signing bonus.
He googled ‘gay vacation destinations’. He could go to… huh. San Francisco. New York. Rio de Janeiro. Bangkok. He could go to Bangkok and for once not be the only Asian person there. No one would recognize Shane Hollander in Bangkok. He could go to tourist bars and visit tourist attractions and eat delicious Thai food and rent out one of those houses on stilts over the water.
He looked up flights to Bangkok. They were expensive, but he could afford it. Rozanov had bought a sports car with his signing bonus; it had been on Failspin. (Not that Shane had been looking for news about Rozanov. It had just come across his dash.) If Rozanov could buy a fucking sports car, Shane could take himself on vacation.
But he’d never traveled alone before. Only with his team and his parents and once with his aunt. This was a ridiculous idea. A stupid idea. He shut his computer and went to look in the fridge, then decided he wasn’t hungry. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe he should read one of his books. He could go for a drive, up to his parent’s cottage, go for a swim in the lake. It was a four-hour round trip. His dad would be home in two hours. They’d never let him go by himself to Bangkok.
Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t go to Bangkok. He had training. He had his new sponsorship deals. He had college coming up soon. Going to Bangkok alone was excessive. Dramatic. He could just… watch gay porn. Buy a dildo. That was… that was a thing, right? He could get something cock-shaped. Have some experience with cocks that way.
… Maybe he’d wait until he was in college, so his mom wouldn’t ask what was in the package.
And until then? He’d… what? Keep masturbating to Rozanov’s lips?
Shane groaned and dropped his head onto the counter.
Step 7: Stop obsessing so much and have a nice chat with your dad
“What’s up, bud?” his dad asked, when Shane came into the kitchen.
Maybe he should tell his parents he was gay. They’d be supportive. They weren’t homophobic. There was a gay couple they were friends with. Dad would pat him on the shoulder and tell him everything would be fine and mom would make one million emergency plans. Dad would say ‘well, now, are you sure you want to hide the rest of your life? It can’t be that bad,’ and mom would purse her lips and tell him she’d support him no matter what.
(And she’d stop trying to set him up with her friends’ daughters. Possibly she would start trying to set him up with her friends’ sons. Would that be an improvement?)
“Trying to figure out what to pack for college,” he lied.
“Already?” his dad asked, with a smile. “You and your mom are so much alike. Gosh, I don’t think I packed until a week before I left. Your mom’s probably already made a whole list for you.”
“I’m going to have to learn to survive without her,” Shane said.
“Not if she can help it,” his dad joked. “Are you excited?”
“It’s not like I haven’t lived away from home before. And Ithaca’s not that far.”
“We’ll fly in for your games, of course.”
“You don’t have to,” Shane protested.
“I don’t know if you missed this, bud, but your mom and I like to see you play.” Shane’s dad leaned across the counter with a smile. “We’d have supported you even if you’d been drafted by the Bears.”
“Big sacrifice,” Shane said dryly.
“Never have I been so happy to see you not win something. Now, what should I make for dinner? Your mom’s out at some fundraiser thing, so we can have a cheat day.”
“Dad,” Shane said.
“Come on, kid. All that tofu and no carbs has got to be bad for you.”
“I eat carbs!”
“Brown rice doesn’t count; it’s practically a vegetable. What about Kraft dinner?”
Shane made a face.
“You’re Canadian, you have to like Kraft dinner. It’s as obligatory as going to Timmy’s. I got those lactaid pills for you.”
“What if you made a brown rice bowl with nutritional yeast?” Shane suggested. “It’s similar to Kraft dinner. You could even put natto on it.”
His dad raised his eyebrows. “I’d do a lot for you and your mom, but I draw the line at natto.”
“It’s good!” Shane protested, laughing now. It was an old argument.
“It looks like snot, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” his dad said, but got the natto out of the freezer anyway and then began to measure out and wash the rice. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I tell you. When you’re off at college I’m going to be eating Kraft dinner all the time.”
“Better keep those lactaid pills for yourself,” Shane chirped.
“Everyone thinks you’re a nice boy, you know,” Shane’s dad said. “‘Oh, you’re so lucky with Shane, he’s such a good boy’. None of them know you’re a wiseguy underneath. I say that with the most affection possible.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Shane said dryly. “Want help cooking?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Step 8: Get back on your bullshit
“New York isn’t too far from Ithaca, is it?” Shane asked. “The city, I mean.”
His dad shrugged. “Probably about equidistant as Ithaca is from here. New York’s a big state.”
Shane nodded and looked back down at the carrots he was slicing.
“Thinking you might visit?”
Shane shrugged. “It’s an exciting place, right? Lots of museums.”
His dad snorted. “Yeah, college kids usually visit New York for the museums.”
They didn’t care about hockey in New York, probably, Shane thought. Tons of famous people lived in New York. And there were tons of Asian people there too, right? There was a Chinatown and everything. He wouldn’t stand out at all. He could drive down to New York for a weekend, maybe. He could go to a gay bar. He could find someone who was nice and wouldn’t mind that he didn’t have any experience. Someone who didn’t look like Rozanov.
It was closer than Bangkok, at least.
Step 9: Ilya Motherfucking Rozanov
“Great news!” Shane’s mother exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen. “CCM is going through with your campaign even faster than we anticipated. Turns out they want to coordinate your campaign with another player, and he’s in the US for a visit, so they figured they’d just go ahead and do the shoot while you’re both available. I did suggest you’d be a little busy during the school year to try to get them to move it up.
“Anyway, so it’s now scheduled for about two weeks from now. That will work for you, right, Shane? There’s nothing special marked on your calendar, but if you do have plans you can’t move…?”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think I do,” Shane agreed. “I mean, I think I’m free.”
“Great,” his mother said. “Great. I’ll confirm with them, then book our flights. They want to do it in New Jersey of all places, but I guess it’s the most conveniently located, so we’ll have to live with it.” She tilted her head, looking at Shane. “Maybe we should get you a haircut now so it has a little time to grow back in?”
“His hair’s fine,” Shane’s dad opined. “They’re after his hockey, not his hair anyway.”
“Well, I don’t think we would have gotten so many sponsorships if he wasn’t as handsome as he is,” Shane’s mother argued. “Obviously it’s his hockey that’s the biggest draw, but these adorable cheeks can’t hurt.” She pinched one of Shane’s cheeks.
“Mom!” Shane protested.
“This is so exciting. CCM! It’s so huge, Shane. I’m proud of you.”
Shane was pretty sure scoring CCM was all her, but knew better than to mention it. “Who’s the other player?” he asked.
“What?” she looked up from her phone.
“You said there was another player? To coordinate our campaigns?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess they haven’t finalized things with him so they can’t disclose it yet.”
“They must have it close to finalized if they have you booking flights and everything,” Shane’s dad pointed out.
“I’m sure they’ll tell you when they can,” Shane’s mother said. “Oh, maybe it’s Scott Hunter.”
Shane narrowed his eyes at her. For someone who was such a big fan of the Voyageurs she was unusually interested in Scott Hunter. Shane had a suspicion she thought he was hot.
Do I think he’s hot? Shane wondered. He pictured Scott Hunter with his playoff beard. Yes. Fuck. Hopefully it wasn’t Scott Hunter.
Wait, of course it wasn’t Scott Hunter. Scott Hunter wouldn’t be ‘in the US for a visit’; he lived in New York. Shane frowned. There were many international players, but why would an international player be visiting now? They’d have to be back in America for the preseason?
Unless they weren’t planning on playing in the NHL this year. Unless they were, for example, signed onto a contract with a KHL team. Like, for example, Ilya Rozanov.
It probably wasn’t Ilya Rozanov. Shane was just being dramatic. CCM probably had dozens of players signed. But all the pieces fit. The hockey media and NHL and it seemed like everyone wanted to force a rivalry between him and Rozanov, so it wouldn’t be surprising if CCM, having signed both of them, wanted to capitalize on that, would it?
“I’ve got to go get something from my room,” Shane said and headed upstairs. Would his parents hear him if he screamed into his pillow? In lieu of that, he pulled on some clean running clothes and headed down stairs. “Going for a run,” he called.
“It’s nine at night,” his mother protested, but he was already out the door.
Ilya motherfucking Rozanov, ruining Shane’s whole plan to figure his shit out. Shane was supposed to get experience. Shane was supposed to find other men to jerk off to in the shower. (Was jerking off to someone without their permission rude or like a perfectly normal thing for someone to do? Or maybe both?)
Shane was supposed to wait the month until he was at college and then drive the five or whatever hours to New York so he could go to a gay bar and maybe maybe not be too cowardly to hook up with someone. Shane was supposed to get the sight of Rozanov’s lips and the feel of his fingers out of his mind. Now he was possibly going to be seeing him again in two weeks.
He headed through the subdivision his parents’ house was in to a little undeveloped plot of land that was mostly pine forest. He’d played there a lot as a child, pretending he was a swordfighting hero wandering through a fantasy land challenging dragons and finding treasure. Over the years the land had been swallowed up parcel by parcel until only a tiny bit remained. While he’d been away some kids had built a kind of playhouse there with scraps of plywood.
Shane smiled a little at the sight of it and then turned to run back the other way along the empty street. Why was he so dramatic? He could survive another meeting with Rozanov. It had probably meant nothing, after all. Rozanov probably flirted with guys to unsettle them, the way he chirped them with small barbs during games. He’d probably wanted to psych Shane out, asking him about Boston, mentioning that they’d play against each other relatively often.
Or maybe, Shane thought, slowing down to a walk, kicking idly at the small stones scattered in the road, he’d wanted a friend. He was coming to the US knowing almost no one, after all. A different culture, a different language. Maybe he’d wanted to ask Shane if he wanted to hang out sometimes.
And Shane had ruined it by running away like he was scared.
He sighed. Shane didn’t even understand people he saw every day. How was he supposed to understand someone he’d only met a few times? Maybe Rozanov hadn’t really thought about Shane at all. It had been a chance meeting in a hotel fitness center, that’s all.
Shane started running again.
The filming was in the Colgate Park Center, where the New Jersey Demons practiced, a few old, faded, championship banners hanging up in the rafters.
Shane followed an assistant to the change room where two lockers were hung with branded CCM gear, one labelled with Shane’s name, the other with Rozanov’s.
Fuck, Shane had called it, hadn’t he? He sighed and dropped down onto the bench and began stripping out of his streetwear.
Halfway through, Rozanov came swaggering in, his shirt unbuttoned halfway to his navel, sunglasses hooked into the ‘v’ of it.
“Hollander,” he said, eyes skating down over Shane’s naked torso, the unzipped fly where he’d been just about to pull down his jeans.
Shane waited until the attendant closed the locker room door. “Rozanov. I thought you’d gone back to Russia.”
Rozanov dropped his bag onto the bench and made a show of inspecting the CCM gear. “I visit friends in America,” he said. “I shoot for sponsorships. Go to Miami.”
“I’ve never been,” Shane admitted.
Rozanov shrugged. “Is okay. Lots of Russians there. Lots of Russian hockey players. All want to give advice. Is like having many new uncles, you know?”
Shane had always heard that the Russian NHL players were close, but of course had never had any experience with it.
“That’s cool,” he said. “You knowing so many people here already.”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed, with a sigh. “But none are in Boston! I will forget all my Russian.” He looked at Shane, and then pointedly at where Shane’s fly was down and his jeans cupped his hip. “You are finished with change?” he asked, tucking his sunglasses into his bag.
“You haven’t even started,” Shane pointed out, feeling irrationally uncomfortable about taking his pants off in front of Rozanov. He changed in front of guys all the time— why was it weird now?
“You are wait for me to get naked?” Rozanov asked with a smirk, then reached back and pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it.
Shane dragged his eyes away from Rozanov’s naked torso, the line of hair disappearing into his jeans, the muscles that rippled underneath his summer weight. He turned away from him a little and pulled his jeans down.
“What you do this summer?” Rozanov asked.
Shane risked a peek at him and saw him untying his shoes and dropping them onto the floor. Adidas, of course.
“Training,” Shane said.
“Boring,” Rozanov sighed. “What you spend your bonus on?”
“Nothing yet,” Shane admitted, beginning to dress. “Put it into savings.”
Rozanov said something in Russian that sounded like a swear. “So boring. Such good Canadian boy.”
Shane almost blurted out that he’d considered going to Bangkok, but bit his tongue. Thinking about going somewhere and then not going was even more pathetic than doing nothing at all. “I’m headed for college soon.”
“College?” Rozanov repeated. “What do you study?”
“I don’t know,” Shane said. “I’m undecided. I’ll probably only spend a year there anyway. You’re still with Dynamo?”
“Yes, of course,” Rozanov said. “Best team in KHL, you know. We win cup again this year.”
“Congratulations,” Shane said, not sure if that was a prediction or something that had just happened.
“Then I win cup in Boston too,” Rozanov continued, happily. “Many, many awards.”
Shane laughed, despite himself. “Too bad Canada’s going to win Juniors this year.”
“You wish!”
Shane looked over at Rozanov and wished he hadn’t. Rozanov was taping up his socks, muscles bulging under his thin undershirt and undershorts as he bent over, his round hockey ass almost at eye level.
Shane swallowed and tried to fix his attention back on his own gear, pulling up his pants and adjusting his shoulder pads. All of the exploration he’d done in the last few weeks was coming flooding back to him; the porn he’d tried to watch, the fumbling he’d done with the dildo he’d driven halfway to Montreal to buy. His cock stiffened and pressed against the hard shell of his jock. He took a few deep breaths and began to strap on his elbow pads.
“Where is your college?” Rozanov asked, startling Shane out of his thoughts.
“Huh? Oh, it’s in Ithaca.”
Rozanov made a little huffing noise and when Shane looked over he saw he was rolling his eyes.
“I do not know where is Ithaca,” Rozanov said. “Unless you are going college in Greece? Interesting choice.”
“No, sorry,” Shane said. “It’s in New York. Uh, New York State. Like five hours from the city.”
“Deep in the wild,” Rozanov mused.
Shane shrugged, pulling on his jersey. “It’s an Ivy League.”
“What is that? Ivy is a plant?”
“A really good school,” Shane said. “Like one of the best. Harvard is an Ivy League.”
“You don’t go to Harvard? You did not get in?”
“I didn’t want to go there,” Shane told him. “Cornell is closer to home.” He hesitated. “I’ve never lived in the countryside before, you know. In a small town. I wanted to try it out. It’s supposed to be really beautiful there too.” He pulled on his skates and tied them, standing and looking down at Rozanov, who was adjusting his shoulder pads. “Are you… should I wait for you?”
Rozanov looked up at him and gave him a crooked grin. “I can find way. Thanks, Hollander.”
“Okay,” Shane said, feeling awkward. “Uh, see you out there.” He stepped out of the locker room and into the tunnel and shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Step 10: Experiment a little. Have fun!
Shane stepped off the ice, breathing hard. Photoshoots and shooting commercials were grueling in a way that practice wasn’t, an endless repetition of trying to hit the exact right mark and being told to look ‘fierce’ so many times the word lost all meaning.
It was even harder with Rozanov there, uttering little chirps under his breath and then breaking out into his crooked smile, alternating between competitive and playful until Shane’s head was spinning and he really, really, had to get his jock off.
Rozanov blew into the locker room behind him, dropping onto the bench. “Finally is over!” he declared, bending to unlace his skates. “I will tell agent I need more money for shoot. Too boring.”
“How much are you getting?” Shane asked, before realizing how rude the question was. He pulled his skates off and then his jersey, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. Was it sponsorship merch or did they want it back? Shane didn’t particularly need an extra jersey but it would be rude to leave it behind if they were giving it to him…
“More than you.” Rozanov went to work on his pads, carelessly tossing them into the locker.
Shane sincerely doubted that, even if Rozanov had been drafted first. His mother was a tough as nails negotiator.
Rozanov was naked before Shane had even stripped off his sock tape, his equipment in a jumble. Shane didn’t look up at him, focusing on the floor as he balled the tape up. Naked, Rozanov’s feet looked curiously vulnerable. One of his big toenails was cracked and discolored, like something heavy had been dropped on it, but the skin was pink between calluses.
“Hollander?” Rozanov said, an edge of amusement in his voice.
Shane realized he was just sitting there with a ball of sock tape in his hands staring at Rozanov’s feet and swallowed and threw the tape across the room into the trashcan, glancing up to see Rozanov staring down at him, completely nude, all that pale skin and rippling muscle close enough Shane could reach out and touch it if he had the nerve.
He forced himself to raise his eyebrows. “You waiting for something?” he tried to chirp, but his mouth was too dry and it came out weak.
Rozanov grinned and winked. “See you in the showers.”
Shane did not linger. He merely treated his equipment with the respect it deserved, unlike some people. But even that didn’t take long— it wasn’t like he didn’t do this every day— and there was no excuse but to follow the sound of water to where Rozanov was still scrubbing his skin, face turned up to the spray.
He turned to look when Shane stepped under the showerhead a few down from him, and Shane didn’t miss the way Rozanov’s eyes flickered over his body.
The heat in Shane’s face couldn’t entirely be explained by the hot water. Ignoring Rozanov, he grabbed his soap and began to wash himself, trying not to look at the brief glimpses of Rozanov’s… well, everything.
Don’t look, don’t look, Shane scolded himself and then caught himself staring again, felt himself growing hard. Fuck, Rozanov clearly had noticed. He smirked at Shane, looking pointedly at Shane’s dick, then he turned so Shane could see his own, firming up.
(There really was no question that Shane was gay.)
“Not here,” he said quickly, and realized the implications of it as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Well, he had wanted to get some experience. It definitely wouldn’t help his Rozanov obsession, but at least it was somewhere to start.