Sasquatch to the Moon

25: Progress

ROCKET

So we spent the afternoon watching movies, ate dinner with my mom, then parted ways so I could go bother Steph and take a long shower to process all of what just happened with him. When I say long shower, I mean it, I mean sitting on the floor and staring into space for probably forty five minutes.

Steph is tied up with August, they're beautiful together, really. I opened his apartment door and he had his arm draped lazily around her waist, pulling her closer. We talked for a good minute, but I decided not to go against Håkon's trust by telling Steph. He'd never forgive me if I accidentally outed him. So I just told him that I hung out with him today. Then I let him and August be alone, he needs it. Lord knows she does too.

Then I overslept a little and busted my ass to the rink just in time for the morning stretch and conditioning.

Now I'm here, barely able to keep my eyes off Håkon's back as he runs, thinking about, for the hundredth time, how his hands felt on my skin. How he gripped my hips and pinned me to the sheets.

I catch him watching me too, but we're apart for most of the drills, so I never get to talk to him. He brushes against me all the time, maybe I'm just noticing it, but he spends a lot of time crazy close to me.

Halfway through one of the drills, Hadley has him mess around and play center. Then he's marking me hard, looking for a pass from anyone. I'm breathing down his neck, trying to look around him for what's happening. I'm breathing in the smell of his sweat off his gear and it's making me dizzy.

God, and his pads. Him in his pads. His shoulders get broader with the extra plastic. The pants come up high on him, going over his hips and mimicking his v-lines at the top. Every time he wipes his face on the bottom of his jersey I'm staring at the black undershirt he wears and dying over the way it's stretched across his skin.

He catches me watching him every single time he pulls up his jersey and I swear he does it more often than normal just to get me to look. It works. Every single time it works.

I'm utterly transfixed like so many times before with the way his body moves with so much ease yet so much raw power. The way he skates and the way he turns, every little movement he makes is driving me insane.

Then we're undressing for the day and I'm staring at his messy and wet white hair, curly from the heat and the humidity in his helmet.

He sits across from me in the locker room, and when he turns around to sit and take off his skates, I flush red, trying to refocus on my own gear. My chest piece comes off next and when I wrestle it off my head, he's watching, his hands on his skate, his eyes on me. I watch his cheeks flush with color, and he bites his lip, turning back to his skates. I push my hair out of my eyes and start to work on getting the blockers off. The undershirt is too tight on him. I know it's how he likes it, but it really shouldn't be allowed, for my sake and my sake only. I could list every muscle it's defining on him and every sin it's making me think about.

The room is clearing out, just us and Paxton, and Håkon is taking his sweet fucking time. Paxy knows that we want to be alone, I think. He gets out quickly and goes to join the team.

"Fuck." I let out a laugh, setting my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. "I need to figure out how to un-horny myself over you."

He snorts, but doesn't say anything at first. "God, why can't I talk to you suddenly."

"I don't know, but you sure did a great job of frustrating me all day." I wave at him. "You and your little jersey trick."

"Yeah, I noticed." He turns pink, then pulls the undershirt over his head in favor of a t-shirt and holy shit am I staring. He's sweaty and sporting a post-workout muscle swell that makes my stomach flutter.