“I am not.” Why did everyone act like he was a total prude? Even Ilya—the man he had actual sex with on the regular—teased him about it.
“Sorry,” Hayden said, still laughing. “I’m sure you’re wild in bed.”
“You think I’m not?”
Hayden held up his hands. “Please don’t tell me.”
Fuck Hayden. Shane could be wild in bed. He wasn’t always uptight. “You sure? Because the other night—”
“Nope!” Hayden backed away. “Hard no. Super no.”
Shane shook his head. “Get dressed, dickhead.”
Hayden began rooting through his bag for clean clothes. “It’s okay if the magic is gone. That happens after you get married. Sometimes. Not to me, obviously.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Shane said, but he was fighting a smile. And he was already brainstorming ways to show a bit of his wild side to Ilya next time he had a chance.
* * *
Ilya was surrounded by beautiful women. They were all married to his teammates, but still. Beautiful.
His teammates were beautiful too. Everyone and everything was beautiful. He caught a glimpse of himself in the giant mirror that hung on one wall of his spacious living room. Swirling colorful disco lights glinted off his breastplate and wrist cuffs as he danced. Stunning.
He was maybe a little bit drunk. And a little bit high. A distant, annoying voice in the back of his brain—a voice that sounded a lot like Shane Hollander’s—suggested that he might not be setting the best example for the younger players at the moment, as team captain.
But a louder voice said this was a party, in Ilya’s own home, and he was having fun and so was everyone else. Because Ilya knew how to throw a party.
The song that was pulsing on the sound system was good. Ilya didn’t know what it was, or who had taken over the music.
Evan Dykstra was dancing next to him, dressed like a bee. He did not look stunning. His wife, Caitlin, was dancing with him, wearing a butterfly costume. She had her arm around Evan’s neck, and they were smiling at each other like they were the only ones in the room. This was a rare night out for the two of them, now that they had a baby at home.
Ilya decided to take a break from dancing. His costume was heavy and much too warm for a crowded house party, and his cape was all twisted.
“Going to get some air,” he said in the general direction of Evan and Caitlin. They didn’t even look at him. He noticed, as he walked away, that the makeshift dance floor was full of couples. He must have been the only one dancing alone.
He had to swat plastic skeletons and bats out of the way as he headed for the back of the house. He’d gone big with the Halloween decorations. He’d gone big with every element of the party because Ilya didn’t socialize with his teammates nearly enough.
Despite the brisk chill in the air, Ilya’s back deck was full of guests, talking and laughing. He found an empty seat in the corner of his outdoor sectional sofa, between Zane Boodram and Wyatt Hayes, and plunked himself down. Wyatt was dressed as a superhero that Ilya didn’t recognize. Zane was dressed like a pirate, maybe? A sleeveless one so he could show off his tattoos. He had a scarf that probably belonged to his wife tied around his head.
“Good party, Maximus,” Bood said, grinning lazily. “You should throw them more often.”
Ilya stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. “I won’t.”
“You’ve got this giant fucking house and never invite anyone over,” complained Tanner Dillon, Ilya and Bood’s linemate, from an armchair across from the sofa.
“Why would I?” Ilya asked flatly.
Wyatt laughed and handed him the joint they’d been passing around. “Have you seen the kids? They can’t believe they’re in Ilya Rozanov’s house.”
“You are making me feel old,” Ilya complained, though, if he was being honest, the youngest players on the team did seem like kids to him. There was less than a decade between himself and Luca Haas, but the gap felt far wider.
Ilya shifted and brought his legs up to rest on Wyatt’s lap. The knee-high sandals he was wearing looked fantastic, but were very uncomfortable. Wyatt didn’t even protest, just kept smiling at him as Ilya took a pull off the joint. Ilya tilted his head back so he could gaze up at the stars for a moment as he savored the sharp sensation of smoke filling his lungs.
“Where’s your shield?” Wyatt asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere,” Ilya said, exhaling as he tilted his head back down. “What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Adam Strange,” Wyatt said excitedly. “He was an archaeologist who got teleported by a Zeta-Beam to the planet Rann and then—”
“No,” Ilya said, holding up a hand. “Is fine. Enough.” He took another long drag off the joint, then passed it to Tanner, who’d already had his arm outstretched, waiting for it.
“Oh, this pass you can take?” Ilya quipped as he handed the joint over. Wyatt and Bood cracked up.
“Dick,” Tanner said.
Wyatt’s wife, Lisa, walked over to the couch, and tapped Ilya’s shins where they were resting on her husband’s lap. “You’re in my spot,” she said.
Ilya moved his legs, and Lisa perched herself on Wyatt’s knee. She was dressed like Wonder Woman, a superhero Ilya actually recognized. She frowned at the joint Wyatt had just been handed by Tanner.
“You don’t approve, Doctor?” Ilya guessed.
Lisa, a doctor at the local children’s hospital, said, “It’s the sharing germs that bothers me, not the weed. But you guys are full-time disgusting, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“We’re not disgusting,” Bood argued.
“Dude,” said Lisa, “I watched you pick up your mouth guard with your gross hockey glove, carry it around for a minute, and then put it back in your mouth. Last night.”
Bood shrugged. “It was on the ice. The ice is clean. My gloves just have my own sweat on them. It’s all part of this beautiful body.”
Everyone laughed. Zane Boodram did have a beautiful body, with light brown skin, a six-pack that he was very proud of, and muscular arms that were sleeved in tattoos celebrating his Trini heritage.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a father,” Lisa teased.
“Look, I still can’t believe I’m married,” Bood said with a grin. He glanced across the patio to where his visibly pregnant wife, Cassie, was talking to Nick Chouinard’s wife, Selena. “But everyone else was doing it, so I figured what the hell.” He nudged Ilya. “Except this guy.”