Crack In The Ice - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

I hold the hot dogs over my head as I make my way through the rows of people back to our seats.
Chloe sees me first, wrinkling her nose at the food. "That the best you could find?"
I give her a look. "It's a hockey game. Don't think I'll find anything that respects our complex nutrition plan. It's food, though."
Chloe takes the hot dog reluctantly. "Debatable."
Helga takes hers with much more gusto. "I missed this," she mumbles through a huge bite.
That surprises me. "Sweden big on hockey?"
"My father was," she hums, licking ketchup off her lips. "He used to take me when I was little."
"Who are they playing?" Chloe asks, before taking a small bite off her hot dog.
I rearrange the foil around mine. "The New Jersey demons."
Chloe frowns. "Do you mean Devils?"
"Do I?"
"You do." Helga nods.
I shrug.
Truth be told, I did not drag my skating partner and coach across Canada, after our Grand Prix event in Montreal, to see the New Jersey anything.
I'm here to see Eli.
I thought I'd spot him right away once the players came out. Even through all the gear, Eli has his own energy, his own feel, a special kind of grace on the ice, an unwavering sort of focus.
In reality, it took me a few minutes to find him. There are a lot of players, all dressed the same, faces covered, and we're not sitting super close to the rink.
Once I see him, though, there's no mistaking him. That energy, that grace, that focus is all there and I can't take my eyes off of him.
Despite her half-assed protests, Chloe finishes her hot dog and her mood seems to lighten considerably as the Clagary Flames appear to be winning. I say appear, because I am off my element here. Chloe and Helga try to give me some insights, but none of it really makes a lot of sense to me.
I don't need the rules of the game to appreciate how good Eli is, though. He's an absolute powerhouse. My heart swells with pride as the arena erupts in fervent cheers when he blocks an opponent with remarkable skill, and it races when he gets slammed by another player. I realize with a startle that I stood up in my distress. My chest is soothed a little when I see I wasn't the only one to stand - in either concern or outrage - and it steadies fully when I see Eli take the hand of the guy who slammed into him and stand, seemingly unharmed.
When the game's over, Helga confirms that the Flames did, in fact, win. That's good. Eli should be in a good mood.
We leave with the rest of the fans, but hover by the arena for a while. I know the players will probably be inside, showering, changing and celebrating, so I take out my phone to text Eli.
I'm a little surprised by how quickly his reply comes.
Doing a poor job of covering my smile, instead of explaining myself through words, I snap a blurry picture of the arena from where I'm standing and send it.
He reads my last text, but no reply comes through.
Next to me, Chloe and Helga are huddled in their coats, trying to protect themselves against the early October chill. After five minutes of waiting, I consider texting again. After ten minutes, I start to worry. After fifteen minutes, two large figures in dark hoodies with duffel bags thrown over their shoulders approach us from behind.
"Hey," one of them says, flashing a huge grin.
"Hey." Chloe smiles back at Dean. "Congratulations on the win. Great game. You're even better than I remember."
"Thanks." Dean beams. Next to him, Eli holds my gaze through a neutral expression.
"What are you guys doing here?" Dean asks.
Eli glances at his friend, like he was meaning to ask me the same question telepathically.
I shrug. "We were in the neighborhood."
"More like a huge detour on our way home," Chloe says. "We had a skating event in Montreal."
"It's the same country," I say.
"Yes, and Canada is famous for how tiny it is." She looks back to Dean and Eli. "You guys heading home soon?"
"No, actually. We're getting a ride from a teammate to a bar for a little team hang-out. To unwind." Dean's face lights up as it occurs to him, "You should come. Burgers and drinks. It'll be fun."
Chloe cocks her head. "Sounds like we'd be intruding on a team thing."
Dean dismisses her. "No one cares. It's chill and it's nice to see people from back home. The guys won't mind."
I'm pleased to see Chloe looks tempted. She glances at me, hands in her coat's pockets. "We have our flight tomorrow morning."
"It's a private flight. It'll wait for us." I look at Dean. "Count us in."
"Flight or no flight," Helga says from behind us, "I'll go back to our hotel. Older bones. You kids have fun." She narrows her eyes at me. "Not too much fun."
I make a point to gasp, taking a hand to my chest in offense.
"Should we text you the address and we'll meet up there?" Dean asks.
I exchange a look with Eli. Sort of. It's mostly a neutral gaze from his part.
"Sure," he says, before taking out his phone to text me the address.
Chloe and I order a car there. Eli and Dean are standing by the door when we get off. They take us inside and introduce us to the team. I smile, hear the names, say my own, shake hands, then promptly forget who's who.
Chloe seems to fit right in, to my surprise. Dean introduces her to some of the guys he seems to get chattiest with, tells them she's a figure skater and everyone seems interested. She orders as they fall into easy conversation about hockey and skating.
I sit with the group, but don't really engage in conversation. My eyes keep diverting to where Eli sits by the counter, just far enough to be slightly removed from the group. I stay put for a while, eating my fries and sipping my beer, hoping he'll move closer.
When he doesn't, I do, sliding my fries in Chloe's direction. She'll need them to absorb the alcohol. I think she's on her third drink and she's still a lightweight.
"You live nearby?" I ask, taking the stool next to Eli, leaving exactly two between us and the others.
Eli gives me an unreadable look. "Yeah." Then, because apparently I'm not as hard to read as he is, he adds, "With Dean."
I shrug. "Dean's busy."
"But he'll want to go home at some point."
I mock-scoff. "I crossed borders for you and you're seriously not going to put out?"
Eli's neck snaps to where his teammates are drinking and talking with Chloe, then back at me when it seems like no one caught my comment.
"You crossed borders for a competition," he whispers through a clenched jaw.
"And I convinced Helga and Chloe to come to a hockey game two thousand miles from the venue to see you," I match his low tone.
His eyes zero in on my face with unmovable resolve. "They must be really blue then."
I bite back a smile. "You have no idea."
Eli leans away, glancing around us again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his paranoia.
A part of me knows he has reason to worry. We're very much in public. His teammates are right there. But the bigger part of me wishes it didn't matter.
"Later."
My head snaps to him.
Eli's sitting straight on his stool, eyes down on his nearly untouched beer. For a moment, I think I might have imagined it.
"When Dean winds down and goes to sleep," he says to his beer bottle.
I hold onto that.
Later.
I repeat it in my head like a sort of prayer.
Later, I repeat to myself as we join the rest of the group to pretend to care about the conversation.
Later, I repeat to myself as most of Eli's teammates start slipping away to go home to their families and their beds.
Later, I repeat to myself as Dean orders a second burger and fries to share with Chloe.
Later, I repeat to myself as Chloe orders another vodka cranberry to go with that - either her fourth or her sixth, there's a time gap in which I lost count a bit.
The four of us are the last at the bar. Dean's clearly getting sleepy, and Chloe's drunk. Like, I have to hold her up so she can stand type drunk.
"I should take her to our hotel," I say.
"Let me help you," Eli surprises me by saying. He shrugs. "You're in a foreign country with a barely conscious drunk girl. Let me help."
"Mind if I just go home?" Dean mumbles rubbing a hand down his face. "I'm really tired."
"No, yeah. You go home. I'll be there after Liam and I get Chloe to her room."
I force my parted lips closed. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."
Eli nods.
I order us a car to the hotel, while Dean says he'll walk to their place. "It's a block away," he says.
"Text me when you're home," Eli asks him.
Our car arrives soon after. Eli helps me get Chloe inside without looking like a molester hauling his victim and he gets off with me at the hotel.
We don't speak from here.
With Eli, I've found trying to make plans, asking for what he wants, getting him to state his intentions - it's all sure to only make him shut down. But if we stay silent, if I don't say anything, if I just wait and let him come to me, then he will.
That's how Eli follows me into the elevator and up to our rooms. He hovers in the hallway as I leave Chloe in her room. I take her shoes and coat off to make her more comfortable, but leave all her street clothes as I lay her on her side, under the covers.
Eli's still there when I leave. He follows me to the next door over and into my room.
As soon as I close the door, I feel him right there, chest against my back, before I can even slip the key card into the slit that allows us to turn the lights on. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into his warm body and I hear the key card hit the floor before I realize I dropped it.
Eli's lips brush against my neck and I let my eyes close, sighing. We don't need to turn the lights on.
He drops open-mouthed kisses up to my ear as his free hand starts pulling my jacket off one arm. Instead of finishing the job, he leaves it half hanging, pulling the fabric of my sweatshirt to the side to reveal the top of my bare shoulder. His lips latch onto the freed patch of warm skin.
"Eli," I whisper.
His arm, the one that's wrapped around me, tightens around my waist, hand trailing up to my ribs.
"Eli," I repeat. Maybe it's my new prayer.
He kisses up my neck again, using the free hand to turn my head so his lips can trail up my jaw, to my cheek.
"Eli," I sigh. "The bed?"
It's feeble and not very convincing, but he lets go of me. I regret it for a second, when I miss his warmth, but then I see him shake his own jacket off. I follow his lead. We leave a trail of clothes towards the bed, until we're both in just our underwear.
The room is a little cold. Without the key card to turn the power on, I can't turn up the heating. But as soon as Eli wraps his arms around me his heat transfers.
It's always bittersweet. This shift in his personality. The guarded, cautious Eli that presents to the world peels off whenever we're hidden inside four walls. Guarded becomes eager, cautious becomes pliable. He goes soft on me as I pull him down to the bed with me. I don't think he's ever denied me anything when we're like this.
His fingers dig into my hair as I kiss a trail down his body, savoring every second. The contour of his face in the dim moonlight, head thrown back, hair in disarray, neck strained, the relief of his torso from smooth chest to ridged stomach, the breathy desperate sounds he makes in the dark - it all has me trembling. My hands don't feel completely mine to control anymore, so I use my mouth instead, stealing the first moan from deep inside his throat.
I hold onto his hips, his muscular thighs, his hands on my hair - for support, for any kind of lifeline. He lets me turn him on his stomach when I'm ready, when I know I can't keep us on silent promises and tempting offers for long.
Preparing him for me becomes easier every time. Even with so many days going by between the moments we can steal together, I know his body more and more every time. I know how he works, what makes him tick, what makes him come undone.
But there's something about tonight. Somehow the usual urgency is nowhere to be found. Eli's body opens for me, but neither of us is in a rush to chase after the climax. Being inside him is sweet, almost painfully slow.
This bed has no headboard, so when his arms stretch over his head for support he clutches at the air. I offer my hand and he takes it, squeezing it before lacing our fingers together. Someone moans and I'm not sure whether it was him or me. His breath hitches and I let myself be taken up by my impulses and pull out just long enough to turn him on his back so I can look on his face when I sink home once again.
I don't think we've ever done it like this, since our very first time. Even when I let him take me for the first time, he had me on my stomach.
Eli's hazel-gray eyes are murky with lust. He looks half crazed with desire. I don't know why we ever did this in any other position. He's beautiful. I think I tell him that out loud too.
Eli lets one of his hands come out to squeeze the short hair on the back of my head, while the other finds mine again, lacing our fingers again.
He whispers sweet nothings into the air, and a couple of heavy everythings. How good this feels, how good I feel, never stop, never leave.
My chest squeezes with something that doesn't feel welcome in this moment. All the things I've felt slowly creeping in on me since Eli tried to kiss me at our rink back home. Things I had yet to allow myself to feel all at once. Things I desperately want Eli to feel too.
Keeping our hands linked and my pace growing, I hide my head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. It all feels like too much and just enough all at once. Eli's hand slides down from the back of my head to grip my shoulder, pulling me close, and I know he's almost ready.
I can feel the end building inside me, and it's both exciting and heartbreaking.
The sounds he's usually so good at swallowing escape his mouth, encouraging me to keep going. I hear my name in his voice too, and that's the hardest. He repeats it as he lets go, tightening around me.
I don't plan it. I don't mean it. At least, I don't mean to say it out loud yet. Not after keeping it in for so long. But as the chord snaps, I whisper into the skin of his neck, "I love you."
It's quiet, and muffled, and he was saying my name at the same time. If he heard it, he doesn't show it as I roll off to lie on my back. I could ask, but then we wouldn't be able to pretend it didn't happen.
So. When he finally steadies his breathing and snuggles up to my side, I don't say a word. I also avoid sudden movements that could snap him out of his post-sex drowsiness.
And as I lay here, I choose to fall asleep imagining this is our reality. The easy familiarity of each other's touch and the privilege to fall asleep after enjoying each other's body without a world outside to account for.