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It was one of the reasons he’d been dumped by Nashville, though rumor had it that it was because he’d slept with one of his veteran teammate’s pregnant wives and it was more of an “either he goes, or I go” situation. With both boys struggling to forge relationships with the other Islanders players and having more money than they could even fathom what to do with, Hayes and TK became nearly inseparable, bonding mostly over their love for painkillers.
And alcohol.
And cocaine.
And whatever the fuck else they could get their hands on.
Hockey had taken a backseat to their codependent partying, which really hit the fan every time they were on the road and in a new city.
They were called into the conference room after an away gameday practice, where they’d been so fucked up from the night before they could barely tie their skates, and presented with a set of rules: there would be no rooming together or hanging out with each other off the ice while on the road.
The two then proceeded to violate those rules so many times, the team had actually hired security to sit outside their hotel rooms, ensuring they didn’t show up to practice wearing the same clothes from the night before and reeking of alcohol.
As much as Hayes hated to admit it, he knew that part of his downfall, part of the reason he’d so easily clicked with TK, was because of his deteriorating relationship with Ryan.
Following the nearly perfect summer they’d spent together, things started to fall apart when their seasons began. They hardly saw each other due to their hectic travel schedules and when they did, it was pretty much to fuck.
Hayes certainly didn’t mind that part. Shoving his cock in Ryan’s ass was euphoric; there was no one on Earth who could make him cum harder than Ryan could. It was as if his ass was made for Hayes’s cock. But afterward, he always felt empty. Ryan was so wrapped up in his own success with Bridgeport that he didn’t even seem to notice how much his boyfriend was struggling mentally.
Or if he did, it sure didn’t seem to Hayes that he cared all that much.
Further complicating things was the fact that Ryan Baylor wanted to murder Travis fucking Kadin.
The first time they’d fought about TK was one night in October. Both boys lay panting in a crumpled heap of limbs on Hayes’s bed, having just fucked the absolute life out of each other. When Hayes had headed to the bathroom, his phone started blowing up, so much so that Ryan felt compelled to check it and make sure something terrible hadn’t happened. He saw on the lock screen that the messages were from TK and, against his better judgment, put in the code to unlock his boyfriend’s phone. It was, adorably, the date of the first time they’d had sex.
TK: The fuck you attttt?
TK: Hayes? Where are you???
TK: I scored some fish scale. Let’s get fucked up.
TK: Seriously, it’s the best coke ever.
TK: Hayessssssss? Come get fucked up with me!
TK: I wanna clean this shit off your pretty little abs with my face, baby.
When Hayes had returned, Ryan had already put his clothes back on and was frustratedly stuffing his feet into his shoes.
“Hey. You’re not stayin’?”
Ryan didn’t answer.
“Rook? What’s the matter?”
He grabbed his sweatshirt from the chair and headed toward the door, Hayes throwing out an arm to stop him and Ryan quickly shoving it away.
“What the fuck?” Hayes yelled. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”
Ryan turned, headed back toward the nightstand, snatched Hayes’s phone, and threw it at him. Hayes caught it awkwardly, unlocked it, and rolled his eyes as he read through his teammate’s texts. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Rook, I swear to God, it’s not…”
“You’re fucking him.”
Hayes laughed uncomfortably. “No. What? Yo…it’s not…he’s not even gay, man.”
“Yeah? Neither were we about a year ago.”
“I wasn’t. We all know your gay ass has always been gay.”
