Authors: Teegan Loy
“Um, Cody, the reporter who’s just trying to stay on his feet.”
Several other skaters introduced themselves, and Cody started the interview. By the time the interview was over, Cody decided all potential Olympians were nuts. Their sports were their lives. These skaters were on the ice between four to eight hours a day. When they weren’t on the ice, they were doing dry land training or picking music or working on choreography.
This was their dream, their focus, and with one wrong step, it could end in the blink of an eye. Cody thanked them all, and let Derek snap some more pictures.
“What’s wrong?” Kira asked as they left the arena.
“There can be only one Olympic champion in each of these sports.”
“Yeah,” Kira agreed. “And why are you telling me this?”
“Why do they do it? Most of them won’t even go to the Olympics, and yet they’re working their asses off, chasing after a dream that will probably end in failure.”
“Do you really believe it’s a failure to chase your dreams, Cody?”
Cody frowned. “No, I suppose it’s the journey, and the not living with regrets thing, right?”
“If you don’t try something, you’ll always wonder,” Kira said. “Are we still talking about sports?”
Cody shrugged. “I think after I’m finished with this article, I’ll start taking a few more chances.”
“I think that’s a great idea, but why wait?” Kira smiled and helped Cody into the car.
“I’ll probably have to let all my bones mend and the bruises heal before I can do anything,” Cody said.
“Only one more sport to survive today,” Kira said.
“What do you know about curling?” Cody asked. Kira snickered and smoothly ignored his question by turning up the radio and pretending to know the song. A few moments later, she pulled into the parking lot of the curling club.
“Is this sport played on ice?” Cody asked.
Kira nodded. “What did you think?”
“I knew. I was just hoping I was wrong,” Cody whined. “I don’t have any more body parts that aren’t bruised. I can’t do this. I’m going to call my editor and quit.”
“You’ll be fine,” Kira said. “Take a chance and all, or was that just talk? Besides, you love writing, and you know your editor and all the people in the office would give you so much shit for being a big baby.”
He hated when she was right, so he sat with his arms folded over his chest and pouted until she shooed him out of the car.
“Fine,” Cody muttered.
“I have a few errands to run. Text me when you need me.”
She rolled up the window and drove off, leaving Cody standing alone in the parking lot of a curling club.
“But,” he whimpered after her, “I need you now.”
All this exercise had turned him into a whiny baby. He was a grown man, and this was his career. And even though every stinking bone in his body hurt, he was a professional. He took a deep breath and opened the door, walking in like he owned the place.
His nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of stale beer and tacos, or some other greasy snack food. Cody almost turned around to check if he walked into a bar by mistake, but some guy shouted at him before he could leave.
“You the reporter?”
“Yeah,” Cody answered quickly.
“Your photographer is taking a leak,” the guy said.
“Can we lock him in the bathroom?”
The guy snorted and clapped him on the shoulder. It almost knocked him over.
“You okay?” the guy asked.
“No, way too much exercise,” Cody said.
The guy chuckled. “I’m Brady. I’m supposed to make sure you change into proper curling attire.”
Brady was a nice-looking guy and very friendly. He led him back into the locker room and pointed out some black pants laid out across a wooden bench. There was a longsleeve shirt and a jacket with his name embroidered on the front, along with a pair of black mittens.
“I actually get to wear gloves and a jacket?” Cody asked. He fondled the sleeve of the jacket and grinned.
“Yeah, but you can take them off if you get too warm,” Brady said.
“Doubtful,” Cody said. “But thanks for the normal clothes. I was getting tired of jamming everything into spandex.”
“What have you been doing?” Brady asked.
“Being tortured,” Cody said.
Cody sat down on the bench and noticed a pair of black shoes that looked like he could wear them on the golf course. Maybe they had spikes on the bottom that would grip the ice and help him to stay on his feet. His body parts needed to stay free and clear of ice.
“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” Brady said, and he walked out of the locker room.
The pants were stretchy and tight, but not confining. His cock rejoiced. The shirt was warm, and the jacket was nice and roomy. The shoes were strange. The left shoe had some sort of old man overshoe protector thing that covered the sole. It was weird, but all these winter sports seemed to have some odd thing going on. Cody shook his head and finished dressing.
Brady was sitting at a large round table with a few other guys, drinking a beer. Derek was asking a million questions and snapping pictures.
Cody flipped Derek the finger when he pointed the camera at him. The guy had enough goofy pictures of him.
“Hey, you look like you’re ready to hit the ice,” Brady said.
“Please don’t say hit,” Cody said. “I’ve been on my ass enough.”
The guys all chuckled and did some quick introductions. They told Cody the team competing in the playdowns for the Olympics would be at the club in about fifteen minutes.
“I’ll try to give you an overview of some of the rules and how we score and shit before we drag you out on the ice,” Brady said.
The game had a lot of rules and some fucked-up scoreboard that confused the hell out of Cody. It looked like a baseball scoreboard, but it didn’t work the same way. Oh well, he didn’t need to know the score.
“I’ll show you the ice,” Brady said.
Cody thought about digging his heels in and refusing to leave the comfort of the warm room, but he didn’t want to look like a chicken in front of Derek.
Brady took him upstairs, telling him it was best to watch a game from overhead. The sheets of ice sort of looked like hockey ice, but it was divided into four skinny lanes, with a huge bull’s eye target embedded in the ice at each end of the separate sheets. Behind the targets were two strange black hole things. Brady called them the hack, telling him that’s where you slid out with the rock. Whatever the hell that meant.
“You ready to give it a try?”
Cody sighed. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”
“You’ll be fine,” Brady said and led him back downstairs where they could hear more laughter.
“That’s probably the guys you’re here to meet,” Brady said.
His foot slipped, and he almost fell down the final four steps when he caught sight of four guys dressed in black pants and jackets that matched his outfit.
“Holy shit,” the first guy said, dropping the giant bag he was carrying. “Is that you, Cody?”
Cody squeaked and grabbed the banister. “Shane?”
Why the hell was Shane standing in front of him looking like his twin?
“So,” Pete said. “You’re the hotshot writer who’s reporting on the Olympic dreamers.”
“I guess so,” Cody said, sitting down when Jay held out a chair for him. Shane sat down next to him, pulling his chair closer so their thighs touched. The thunk of shoes dropping to the floor shifted Cody’s gaze as all the guys changed shoes. Now he and Shane really looked like twins, right down to the shoes.
Shane unzipped his bag and pulled out two of those weird brooms that had been in the hallway of his apartment. He handed one to Cody.
“What’s this for?” Cody asked. Derek snapped a picture.
“That’s your broom,” Shane said.
“Yes, I figured it was a broom,” Cody said.
There was a long explanation of how the broom was used in curling. It heated the ice and kept the rock straight. It kept the ice free of debris. Some people used it when they slid out of the hack. The skip used it to show his teammates where to throw the rock. Cody’s head was spinning. In his world, brooms were only used to sweep dirty floors.
“Did you know it was us you were interviewing?” Pete asked.
“No,” Cody said sternly. “Did you know it was me?”
Pete shook his head. “We hoped it was you, but Kira wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
Cody was hammering out a text message to Kira before Pete finished his sentence. He was going to kill her. She had no right to keep this information from him.
Heat flooded his body when a warm hand settled on his hand, prying his fingers off the phone before he could squeeze it to death. Shane muted the ringer and shoved Cody’s phone into his pocket.
“Come on, you can kill Kira later,” Shane said. “Let’s go have some fun.”
He made the mistake of looking straight into Shane’s dark brown eyes and knew that saying no would be impossible. Cody let Shane usher him toward the ice.
“Fun? I’m going to make a fool out of myself. This is the first time I’ve ever seen curling. I have these weird shoes on, and I just know I’m going to end up on my ass,” Cody said.
“I’ll keep your ass safe,” Shane whispered and winked at him. “I promise.”
Cody’s mouth dropped open, and he abruptly stopped. Robbie banged into him and gave him a shove through the open door.
“No backing out now,” Robbie said.
The chill of the air surrounded him, and he stood near the wall, watching as the guys flipped off those things on their shoes and jumped into the hack, pushed off, and slid all the way down to the other end of the ice in a very strange position.
“Holy shit,” Cody said. “I’m not that coordinated.”
“Come on, Cody. Step on the ice,” Derek said, grinning at him. He wanted to take that camera and beat it into the ice with his broom. Or maybe smash Derek to bits.
Shane skated or slid on his one shoe back down the ice, holding out his hand for Cody to take. This was a terrible idea. Shane helped him take the old man thingy off his shoe. The official name was a gripper. It sounded like something that should stay on Cody’s shoe when he was on the ice.
Instead of spikes on the bottom of his shoe, there were two circles that looked like they were made out of Teflon. Cody was positive they were slippery, because it was a wellknown fact that things did not stick to Teflon.
“When you have your gripper off, always step on the ice with your right foot,” Shane said.
“Okay,” Cody said. How in the hell was he supposed to remember all this shit?
It didn’t matter which foot he stepped on the ice with, he was still going to end up on his ass, but Shane squeezed his hand tightly and made him step carefully onto the ice.
Shane and the other guys explained more technical shit. Cody slipped once, but Robbie kept him on his feet. Of course, Derek didn’t miss the shot, but at least Cody wasn’t sprawled on the ice.
The guys told him to put his right foot in the hack and squat down. His muscles protested loudly, so he used the broom for assistance. When he was ready, they gave him a quick lesson on sliding, and Cody found himself sitting on the ice. But after a few more slides, he could at least stay on his feet. They set a rock in front of him and showed him how to throw it down the ice. The stupid thing was heavy. It was made out of granite from some quarry in Scotland. Cody was just glad he didn’t have to lift it off the ground.
After a few unsuccessful attempts at making the rock slide down the ice, they had him walk alongside a moving rock and listen for Shane to give the “sweep” command. It looked simple, but walking on ice and moving a broom back and forth was not all that easy.
Brady and three other guys came out on the ice and shook Cody’s hand.
Shane snuck up behind him, startling him when he whispered in his ear. “Come down to the other end with me, and I’ll show you how to skip a game.”
“Okay,” Cody said, feeling his face flush.
He would have rather walked on the carpeted area surrounding the sheets of ice, but Shane ushered him right down the center of the slippery surface. He didn’t fall. Derek frowned, so Cody sneered at him and flipped him off again.
“So,” Cody said. “You’re really trying to make it to the Olympics?”
“Yeah,” Shane said. “We have playdowns next week. We have a great chance to make it if we play well.”
There were more rules and etiquette when skipping a game. Cody did his best to follow all of Shane’s instructions. When the other team completed their first shot, Shane pulled Cody into the rings.
Shane directed Cody’s broom to a spot and tapped the ice. “That’s where I want Jay’s rock to end up.”
All Cody could think about was Shane’s hand on top of his, and the small smile on Shane’s face made him warm all over. When Jay released the rock, Cody stepped back and Shane knelt down. His jacket rode up and a small sliver of skin glowed in the light.
This was going to be a long game. As the teams threw more rocks, the competition started to heat up. Cody was having a hard time following everything because Shane kept squatting down, showing off his ass and that luscious piece of bare skin.
Things went to hell in the fourth end. The game was tight, and the guys were totally into the action. When Pete released a shot, Shane started yelling at Jay and Robbie to sweep.
“Harder. Hurry. Harder. Come on. Harder! Harder! Harder!” Shane shouted.
Cody’s mind went into overdrive as the word “harder” banged around inside his head. Images of Shane’s naked body pressed against his as they moved as one danced through his mind. Cody sat down on the carpeted floor and let the cold air wash over him. He needed to get a grip before the heat from his body melted the ice.
More shouts of “harder, harder” filled the arena. He squeezed his eyes shut, because if he looked at Shane, he might come in his pants.
How much more of this was he going to be able to survive? This was the worst sport ever. Or maybe it was the best? But right now, it was terrible, because he had an ache in his groin that wasn’t going to go away unless he, or someone, took care of it.
The guys on the ice were shouting again, grunting as they swept, and Cody needed to get out of here before Derek caught him in a compromising position. His dick was already half-hard, and he didn’t need a photo of it gracing the bulletin board at the paper. He pulled his jacket down, dropped his broom, and scurried out of the arena straight into the locker room. He searched his pockets for his phone, but quickly realized it was in Shane’s pocket.
Fuck
.
The door to the locker room opened, and Shane stepped inside.
“Hey, you missed my shots,” Shane said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I have everything I need for the story,” Cody said, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. He didn’t want to embarrass himself anymore. He tugged on the jacket, making sure it safely covered his dick. “I need my phone so I can jot down a few notes.”