Homewrecker (lgbt hockey romance)

(𝟝)

– You slept with Han Wong ?

– Only technically, I repeated for the fith time as Alex opened the curtains a little bit more. It was a « light experiment » Alex morning, which meant hours of studying with her camera the effects of different lights on my skin, before I had to leave. I worked part-time at the Vermont College Library, and my boss Jocelyn needed me to range some new books.

But I always took time for Alex' photoshoots. It was part for her, and part for me : I had never found myself more beautiful than in her shots.

– Technically matters. Hey, you should probably write that down.

– Shut up.

She gave me a corcky smile that somehow reminded me of Raquel. Or Han, I didn't know.

– This whole thing is weird. And confusing.

– Because you keep confusing him with his sister ?

Somebody knocked on the door.

– You. Don't. Move, ordered Alex, stopping my as I was rising. This one is going to be perfect. COME IN !, she shouted, and moved my head so I would face the window.

– Is it good now ?

– If you move this pretty little mouth of yours once more, I knock you out with my own camera. Now you sit still and...

I heard the camera click and Alex started to move around me, capturing every angle. On my face, one single strip of sun was heating my skin.

– You're so beautiful, Chess, she whispered, towering me with the camera. Maybe with this shot the world will finally see you as I do ?

I like it, I wanted to say, but kept my lips scealed. Hope the goat killer wouldn't see it, though. I wouldn't enjoy little pieces of me torn in the hockey player's backyard.

The camera clicked again, and I asked : have you found your subject for the scolarship project ?

– Yes, actually, said Alex. I think I'm gonna make an esthetic horror documentary about the goat killer.

I imagined Alex, zooming with her camera on the restes fumants of slaughtered goats : Beauty is terror, right ?

She smiled : Knew you would like it.

Hm-hm, said a voice. I had almost forgotten we had a visitor. Alex and I turned around. Han was leaning on the wall, the sweatshirt I had complimented him on this morning in hand.

– Hi, I smiled. Is that... a gift ?

He nodded, and Alex glared at me with a suspicious look. I raised an innocent eyebrow.

– Hi, Han !, said Alex with a way-too-glad tone, giving me a small hit behind the back. 'Oh god', she whispered in my ear. My lips curved into a smile.

This morning, Alex had tied my hair in two long braids and added red ribbons. For the photoshoot, she had had me wear the tight black dress I had worn at the fraternity party, and red mary janes found on etsy.

I gazed at Han. He was wearing another of his oversized sweaters, a sage green one. His short grunge hair were wet thrown back behind his ears.

And his gaze was ravenous.

I could feel it, following every line of my body, every curve drawed by the thick cotton of the dress, stopping for a second in the soft place of my neck, where I would have wanted him to kiss me.

Red overthrew my cheeks faster than ever. It was a good heat, agreable. I could feel the air tensing between us, just the way I wanted it, and I liked it.

My toes curled in the mary janes.

But Han lowered his gaze, dropping the sweatshirt on the table, and the charm eclipsed.

– I've got to train, he said, turning back. See you later, Chess.

※

– Mon dieu, said Alex as soon as he was gone, dropping her camera. Tell me I wasn't dreaming.

– You weren't. Han Wong stepped in your house to drop a gift.

– No, I don't care about that. Tell me I wasn't dreaming the magnitude 7 sexual tension that just happened between you guys.

– You... – I passed my hand on my forehead, waiting for it to cool down – I don't think you were dreaming. But it was kind of weird, wasn't it ?

– Because I was here ! Trust me, if I hadn't, he would –

– No, it was weird. I feel like there's something he isn't telling me, and it feels... weird.

Alex gave me a very serious look : Do you want to know what's going on ?

– What ?

– Do you want to ? Do you want explannations ?

– Yes, but–

– Then go after him ! Go to his house and tell him how you feel !

– What ? But I can't–

Alex shook her head with disapointment and pointed at the Ikea board she had installed in the kitchen corner, with the blue message « Chess is going to do whatever the fuck she wants ».

– Oh, god, Alex...

– That's exactly the same thing. Merde, Chess ! You can't be passive in this, not when you actually like him and, god, I have never seen you so pleased to see Liam the whole time you were together. You derserve to have explannations if you want them ! Go after him !

That's how I found myself in the cold again, jeans over the back of my dress, running in mary janes after Vermont team captain Han Wong.

I went all the way to his house without finding him. The ringbell having being broken by a drunk pharmacy student during the party, I went in.

The house was silent. Han wasn't home.

I looked around me. None of his mates were here, neither. The living room was silent, empty bottles tucked everywhere in the corners. Someone had started to arrange stuff in boxes (it made me smile).

I was about to leave when I heard a muffled noise coming from upstairs.

– Is anyone here ?

Nothing.

– Do you need help ?

I went up the stairs. Last time I had, Han's hot hands were resting on my waist. The recollection of it made me smile. I liked the way he was : caring, calm, always amused. He was so stoic. I guess that's what made me feel so safe around him.

The muffled sound came from Han's room. Someone was searching for something.

– Gosh, Raquel, where did you put it ?

The guy was clearly asking himself. I heard a loud 'shit !', followed by the sound of an object falling.

I gazed through the open door of the room. Someone was madly searching through Han's closet, piles of clean clothes (and more boxes) falling over them.

A hockey player, I realized. His shoulders were strong, incredibly so, just like Han – muscles rolling and bending under the thin white layer of team t-shirt. « Number 7 », it read. « Wong ».

My eyes narrowed. It wasn't Han : Han didn't have a buzz cut, didn't have such broad shoulders, and didn't have his right leg completely bandaged.

Something cold, real cold patted my stomach. And curled in it.

– Han ?, I asked hesitantly.

The boy turned around imediatly, and realization hit me.