Breakaway (16 page)

“But this one is a small, so it fits me. Besides, darlin’, I’ve been around you after a game, and you smell.” Zoe made him put air fresheners on top of his gear if he had it in her car.

“Well, I still could have gotten you one. I get a discount at the team store.”

“Laney, I don’t think you want to take any money
away
from the Storm, even if it’s in the form of a discount. Do you?”

She had a point.

“Is this weird? I didn’t even think if it would be or not. I’m gonna get a jersey from all your teams, so that I can sell them on eBay when you win that Cup thingy.”

Lane picked her up, which she
hated
, and swung her around in a hug. “It’s not weird. It’s great.” It was a little weird, but he’d get over it. He’d thought about getting her one, but that really
did
seem weird. His grin turned a little evil. “Was it a toss-up between mine and Ryan’s?”

Zoe kicked him in the shins—hard—but the glare was totally worth it. “I thought we didn’t talk about things I may or may not do with your roommate for reasons of pure physical gratification.”

“I’m not. I’m talking about hockey jerseys.” Lane snickered. “Or is he on your back enough as it is?”

Sometimes Lane forgot that Zoe wasn’t a guy on his team. Because she swore and kicked him in the shins, and sometimes said stuff about other girls’ tits around him. This was one of those times, and he could tell immediately after he said it that he shouldn’t have. She went into her room, took her jersey off, and came back in a regular T-shirt. “We should go before there’s traffic.”

It was a bit of a frosty ride, which meant she was really mad. Lane felt bad, but he also didn’t know why she was so angry, so he finally decided to ask her. “Usually when you’re mad at me, you tell me why. Two or three times. In a row.”

Zoe was quiet, staring straight ahead out the window. “I don’t know,” she said. “It just made me mad that you said that.”

Lane wished girls would explain why sometimes they had a million words for the same feeling, like
mad
and
angry
and
upset
, and sometimes they didn’t use
enough
words. “But why?”

“I’m telling you, Lane. I don’t
know
.”

“Then how do you know if you’re mad or not? Maybe you’re not.”

“No, I am.” She sighed. “I think. Maybe. Look, I don’t… I guess it was weird, hearing you talk about me like that. If that makes any sense.”

“Sure. Sometimes it’s weird to hear you with my roommate.” And sometimes it wasn’t—but he definitely wasn’t going to point that out.

“You’re never, ever supposed to mention that. Remember? You’re supposed to go to Riley’s.”

“Last time it was one in the morning, though.”

Zoe was turning as red as her hair. “Shut up, Lane.”

“No, look. Zoe, I don’t know what ‘talk about you like that’ means. So unless you tell me, or explain what this is about, you can’t be mad at me.” That seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

Not so to Zoe, who glared so hotly at him, he was surprised he didn’t burst into tiny flames. “Oh, I can’t?”

“Well, you can, but you
shouldn’t
.”

“Oh my God, Lane.”

“Are you just mad about having to see your parents?” Lane suggested, unaware of the hole he was digging for himself.

“Right now, I’m mad I can’t run you over with the car.”

Lane leaned closer. “You’re going really fast, Zoe. You don’t want to get a ticket. Maybe you should let me drive if you’re upset.”

Zoe took the next exit, slammed the car to a stop at a McDonalds, and said, “Call Jared and tell him to come get you, and get the fuck out of my car.”

“You’ll just feel bad and turn around.”

“Lane, stop telling me what I feel about things. Ugh. This is why I date girls. They might be crazy, but they don’t say things like
let me drive until you’re not upset
.” Zoe’s lip quivered, and for a minute, Lane thought he’d made her cry.

He was so horrified by that thought, he would have walked to Savannah if it would make her feel better. “Zoe,” he started very carefully, wondering if “I’m sorry if you thought I meant you couldn’t have feelings” was the right or wrong thing to say. But then she made a noise, and he realized she was giggling.

Relieved, Lane beamed at her, but it turned into confusion as she kept giggling, then laughing, and then burst into tears. This was terrible. He was glad he was gay, because a guy would just punch him, and then they’d go on and pretend that fixed everything that was wrong.

She put her head on the steering wheel. “I’m just…. If you knew how all of that sounded, you’d know why this is funny. God, Lane, you are so lucky you’re gay. Girls would beat you with that stick of yours.”

“Do you mean that like how you slap my roommate, or—wait, is that a funny crying sound or a mad one? I can’t tell, Zoe. Here. If you punch me, can we just go back to driving?”

Zoe didn’t hit him, but she did make him get her a peppermint milkshake before she’d get back on the road.

“I guess I don’t want you to talk about me like you guys must talk about the girls you bang,” she said. That was exactly how the guys he knew would say that. He didn’t point out that he’d never banged a girl in his life, and didn’t plan to start. “I don’t want you to think… anything. I feel weird knowing you’ve been there, and I just… I don’t know, Lane. Do you think badly of me for sleeping with him?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

“Well, I don’t
want
you to, but you know. It was just, it sounded like, when you said that… you don’t
say
stuff like that, Lane.”

Lane sighed. “I do, though. You don’t hear me around the guys on the ice, or at a game. I say stupid shit like that all the time, Zoe. I’m a hockey player. Hell, I called something
gay
the other day and meant it like
stupid
. And I’m gay.” He had no problem saying that now. At least to her.

“Do you talk about me like that?”

“No, I’m not sleeping with you.”

“That’s the only reason you’d stand up for me, huh?” She looked mad again.

“What? I don’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with you sleeping with Ryan, you can sleep with whoever you want to.” Lane hoped they got to Savannah quickly, so Jared could point out that he was totally right, and they could do some guy stuff. And then Jared would fuck him. Girls were so confusing. He felt bad for straight guys.

Lane wisely kept that to himself.

“But if someone said that about me, and about ‘she’s got Sloan on her back enough,’ what would you do?”

“Laugh?” Lane thought that was funny, but clearly this was not the right answer.

“Right. So, I’ve lost all your respect by sleeping with Ryan. I get it.” Zoe stared at the road, sniffling in the same way she did when they watched a movie and she was crying and didn’t want Lane to know.

“Zoe? I really don’t know what to say and I think maybe I should stop talking, because everything I say makes you mad and pretend not to be crying.”

“Fine.”

Uh-oh. That was definitely not a good word when a girl said it. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just forget it,” she snapped, but kept talking because girls did not make any sense, not even a little. “Just, talking about a girl like that, it’s like she’s nothing.”

“But I thought that’s what you wanted with him,” Lane pointed out. “And he didn’t say that, Zoe. I did. To you. Could you just stop being mad?” He poked her in the arm. “It’s Christmas.”

“Ugh. I know. I’m being totally irrational. I’m sorry. I hate going home. It’s dumb, Lane, but if I told my parents I was with a guy now, my dad would talk to me again. Even though I’m just using Ryan to get off, and because he lets me smack him. And yet, I was in
love
with Erin, and we were living together, and she was going to be a lawyer. My
father
is a lawyer. But that didn’t matter. He couldn’t see past the fact she had tits.”

Was it tits or boobs? Lane was so confused about that. “But you’re not in love with Ryan. Right?”

“Oh my God, Lane. No. Though I like him more than I did when we first met. Really, he’s a pretty nice guy.” She shot Lane a sheepish look. “Sorry. God, Lane, I totally went mental on you. Ugh. Do you want some of my milkshake?”

“Don’t I always?” He took the milkshake and sipped, but it was mostly gone. At least she wasn’t mad anymore. They still had an hour left before they got to Savannah.

They went directly to the restaurant, where Zoe and Jared met for the first time. When Zoe said, “Lane talks about you a lot,” Jared responded with, “Same with you,” and then, “I’m not sure if I should apologize for that.”

“Me neither!” Zoe said, grinning, and they both laughed.

Lane was glad to see they were getting along and that Zoe seemed to be completely over whatever that thing was in the car. She gave him a Christmas present before she left—a picture of the two of them—and then showed him a tattoo on her arm that she’d gotten for him. It was a much cooler version of the Storm’s logo, with his number on it.

“That is so cool.” Lane was very impressed, but he had a secret terror of needles. Zoe was such a badass. She could totally be one of those roller-girl chicks. “That’s a way better looking sea tornado than the one on the jersey. Zoe got my jersey,” Lane said to Jared, going for nonchalant. “Because I’m so awesome at hockey.”

“He’s worse than this on the ice,” Jared said to Zoe. “That’s why I hit him when we first met.”

“No, I threw my gloves off to fight you,” Lane reminded him. “You had to hit me, remember? I made you.” He scowled when Zoe started howling with laughter.

“You never told me that. Aw, Lane, you’re so bad at dating,” she giggled, gleeful.

“I was beating him up to get my team to like me,” Lane tried to explain, and Jared interrupted him with a
whoa
,
whoa
and a knock to his shoulder.

“He got
beaten up
to make his team like him, Zoe. He punched me once in the face, and it didn’t even hurt.”

“Zoe’s kinda into that,” Lane said, and then wondered if he had some kind of death wish.

“So I hear,” Jared said with that grin that made Lane hard—and made him wish they were back in his apartment. Alone. In bed. Naked.

Zoe turned red again, and waved her hands and looked, all of a sudden, like a total
girl
.

She thinks Jared’s cute
, Lane realized, and that made him happy.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Lane asked her innocently when they were back at Jared’s after dinner. He sat next to Jared on the couch, and while he didn’t want her to go necessarily, he was definitely ready for them to be alone.

“Yeah. I should just get on the road. But it was nice to meet you, Jared.”

“You too, Zoe.”

She hugged Lane, and she and Jared did an awkward “should we hug or shake hands” thing and then laughed and hugged quickly. Why did that never look awkward when it was other people doing it?

Lane walked her to the car and gave her another hug good-bye. “I have a lot of respect for you, Zoe. I’m sorry if what I said about the jersey made it sound like I don’t. I wouldn’t not respect a girl—or anybody really—for liking sex. Because I like it too. I think you’re supposed to like it. I hope your parents are nice to you.”

“No, that was me being crazy. The thing is, umm. So, when I said I got your jersey, Ryan goes, ‘why not mine, princess?’ And then after I hit him for calling me that, I uh.” Zoe wouldn’t look at him.

“You said he was on your back enough, didn’t you.”

“Yup.” She smiled nervously at him. “I’m sorry. Really. And hey, Jared is hot. And I’m sorry, but I almost said I was going to stay, just so I could sneak out of the bedroom and watch you two make out. Wow.” She gave a whistle. “Good job, Lane. And he’s nice. And he put his arm around you. That makes me really happy. But I’m still going to boo him at the next Storm-Renegades game.”

“Damn right.”

Zoe kissed him on the cheek, and Lane watched her drive away, glad they’d worked that out and that she liked Jared and wasn’t mad at him.

Later that night, when they were in bed, Lane asked Jared, “You’re not going to get sick of me, are you?”

“Probably not, but if I do, you can sleep on the couch.” Jared’s voice was warm, amused. “I like Zoe. You two fight like siblings. It’s kind of hilarious.”

“She liked you too. She thought you were hot. Which you are.” Lane rolled on his side and inched closer. “Do you have any Dr Pepper? If I had one, I could totally go again in about twenty minutes.”

“Well, I can go again right
now
,” Jared informed him, pushing Lane on his back. “So it’s your turn to catch up, pipsqueak.”

“That’s the least sexy thing you’ve ever called me, J.”

“What? Now you’re criticizing my pillow talk? Is the magic over, Lane?” Jared bit him on the shoulder.

“I thought you said you could go again. So no, it’s not over. And Jared, I wouldn’t like it if you made the pillow talk, either,” Lane said seriously, and kissed him. Just in case he didn’t know Lane was kidding. Sometimes that took a while for people to figure out.

AT FIRST
it was weird not to spend Christmas with his parents, though Lane was still mad at them—and he was getting laid. A lot. He and Jared really did spend most of their short holiday in bed, although they found time to watch hockey, and once they went out for dinner because they were both tired of pizza.

Lane gave Jared his Christmas present, which was a copy of Patrick Roy’s biography. He knew Roy was Jared’s favorite player. It was called
Winning, Nothing Else
, and in the cover, Lane wrote
He got better as he got older too
.
He was a goalie, though. I’m glad you’re not, because sometimes they’re crazy. Merry Christmas.

Jared laughed, and he seemed pleased with the gift. He gave Lane a sweet Leafs hoodie, which he said he was pretty sure Lane could use as a winter coat in Jacksonville.

After Lane gave Jared his
other
present, which was a very long, slow blowjob in the shower, and after Jared reciprocated with a much shorter one—“You’re like a rocket, I swear, Courtnall”—Lane put on his new hoodie, went out onto Jared’s small balcony, and had a very stilted phone conversation with his parents.