Gay Hockey Books Novels & Stories

​Rhys kept his hand locked tightly in mine, his grip firm and unyielding, a physical reminder of the boundary we had crossed. ​The corporate wars were still active, but the hockey captain and his nutritionist were no longer running from the storm. ​We were the storm.

"And what are you going to do? You paint. You close yourself off in your room and do whatever the hell you do in there. Dad gives you everything you want because he feels guilty that you can't play hockey, and you walk around like that makes you better than me somehow." Something shifted in Gray's face. Just slightly. "You're eleven months older than me," Gray said. "Eleven months. And he chose you. Not because he loves you more, but because you carry the one thing he respects. A hockey stick." He paused. "But don't come at me about what I can't do when you are standing here acting like an actual child because I kissed summer at her birthday party. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep

Gael shakes his head. Gael Slater: My dad gave it to me. The boy shrugs moving around the desk. Halo Noel: Can I see it? Gael hands Halo the leather-bound book, reading the simple yet intricate title, impressed. Halo Noel: Tom Sawyer. He runs his right hand over the worn leather spine. Halo Noel: Is your father coming to pick you up? Halo checks his watch, notices the time, and sits up. - Usually, Gael would be the first to leave, as his father was never tardy. So, seeing the boy hanging back feels odd to the attentive teacher.