“You stayed up that late?”
Ilya grinned. “Yes, but, you know. Mostly partying.”
Shane smiled back, knowing damn well Ilya had only stayed up late to watch his boyfriend play hockey. “Sure. I saw Rose yesterday.”
“Yes, I saw the photos.”
“Aw man, did those hit the internet?”
“They say you are back together. Congratulations. Very happy for you.”
“Anyway, I want to tell you what she said.”
“She wants you back?”
“No. Shut up. She said we should maybe make, like, a backup plan. In case our secret gets out.”
“Backup plan,” Ilya repeated. “What would that be?”
“No idea. I figure we either stick to the plan we have, or our secret gets blown and we’re fucked, right?”
Ilya frowned. “Maybe. Yes.”
“I know we’re careful, but…”
“Someone might notice my heart eyes.”
“Your what?”
“Heart eyes. Hayden said I look at you with heart eyes.”
Shane squirmed against his bedsheets. “When did he say that?”
“At camp. I was staring at you and he said—”
“Oh god.” Shane palmed his face. “He did not say that.”
“Yes. Was probably true. I look at you and I am just…” Ilya opened and closed his fist several times in front of his chest. “My heart goes crazy, you know?”
Shane’s own heart started going a little crazy. “You should see a doctor about that.”
Ilya grinned and shook his head. “Is just being in love, I think.”
Shane covered his face with a pillow. He couldn’t look at Ilya in that moment. Couldn’t let Ilya see him either.
“Come back,” Ilya said, laughing.
Shane tossed the pillow aside. “I fucking miss you so much. I wake up alone every day and it sucks.”
“I know. Four more days.”
Shane groaned. “We’re not even going to have time to see each other before our game, are we?”
“Probably not.”
“God, that’s going to be brutal.”
“Maybe I will kiss you during a face-off.”
“Pretty sure that would be a face-off violation.”
“You are a nerd.”
“I’m also naked right now.”
“Oh yes?”
“Mm. Except my glasses.”
Ilya grinned and stood up. “Let’s go to my bedroom, then.”
Chapter Eleven
Ilya bent over the face-off circle in Montreal and smiled at the man across from him. “Hi.”
Shane’s lips quirked up. “Hi.”
They’d done this dance so many times, but this time felt the hardest. Ilya hadn’t seen his boyfriend in three weeks, and now he was inches away from him, heart-stoppingly beautiful and completely forbidden.
“Do you have plans after the game?” Ilya asked casually.
Shane’s smile grew. “I’m wide open.”
Ilya hoped his own eyes showed the promise he was trying to silently transmit: you will be. The way Shane licked his bottom lip suggested the message had been received.
The puck dropped, Ilya won the face-off, and the game was on.
During their fourth shift together, Ilya was battling Shane for the puck against the boards. Shane struggled against Ilya’s weight as they clashed their stick blades together. “You got any more tricks to show me?” Shane said.
If he was trying to distract Ilya, it worked. Shane wasn’t usually the one to try to fluster Ilya with secret sexy messages on the ice. The surprise caused Ilya’s body to slacken long enough for Shane to skate away with the puck. Ilya smiled to himself as he chased after him.
The next time Ilya was pressed against him, later in the first period, Ilya answered Shane. “I don’t think I need tricks.”
For a split second, their eyes met. Shane’s were dark and full of promise, but then he said, “We’ll see,” and shoved Ilya off of him.
Honestly, Ilya wasn’t expecting anything too complicated to happen tonight. After three weeks of not touching each other, Ilya would be surprised if they even made it past the living room, or bothered to take their clothes off, before they were both spent and sleepy.
But they did have tomorrow. And the next night.
They hadn’t been able to see each other, before the game. The Centaurs had flown into Montreal in the afternoon, after practicing in Ottawa, and he and Shane had both been busy getting ready for the game. Ilya’s team was flying back to Ottawa directly after this game, but he wouldn’t be flying with them. He’d been nervous when he’d told Coach Wiebe his fabricated story about needing to meet with Shane about their charity tomorrow. He’d never skipped a team flight before, in all of their years of sneaking around, and he was worried it would seem strange now. And obvious.
But Wiebe hadn’t even blinked at it. “It’s a day off tomorrow anyway,” he’d said easily. “Enjoy Montreal.”
Ilya loved his new coach.
“Hollander giving you trouble?” Evan Dykstra, Ottawa’s best defenseman, asked when Ilya returned to the bench.
Ilya’s lips curved up. “Always.”
By the second period, the score was two to one for Montreal, which wasn’t bad, considering. Wyatt had been making incredible saves to keep Ottawa in the game.
After another highlight reel–worthy glove save, Ilya skated over to Wyatt to tap him on the pads.
“Is it supposed to rain tomorrow?” Wyatt asked, as if he wasn’t in the middle of a hockey game and hadn’t just done something amazing. “I was thinking about taking my bike out, hitting a trail.”
Ilya could only smile and shake his head. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll check later. Hey, score a goal, would ya?”
“No problem.”
Three minutes later, Ilya scored a goal, tying the game. He waved to the Montreal crowd as they booed him.
“Stop being an asshole,” Shane grumbled as he skated by him.
Ilya blew him a kiss.
“Knock that shit off,” said a gruff voice beside Ilya. He turned to find one of the refs frowning at him. “I’ll give you an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty if you keep that up.”
Ilya rolled his eyes as he skated to his bench. If the ref only knew how much Ilya actually wanted to kiss Shane.
He enjoyed a brief fantasy as he sat on the bench of pressing Shane against the glass after scoring a goal and kissing him breathless. That would shut this fucking crowd up.
“Man,” Bood said as they skated to the bench, “this town hates you.”
“Nah. They wish I played for them.”
Bood laughed. “Hollander would hate that.”
“My good friend Shane Hollander, you mean?”
“There’s no way he likes you that much.”
“He loves me,” Ilya said plainly. Honestly.
Bood, of course, thought he was kidding. “Now you’re really dreaming.”
Ilya chomped on his mouth guard to avoid smiling.
A few seconds later, Luca Haas took a long pass and was on a breakaway. Most of the Ottawa bench stood up, Ilya included.
“Get it, Haasy!” Bood yelled.