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“So you and Rix, eh?” Dallas chugs a glass of water. “Can’t really say I’m all that surprised with the way you two look at each other.”
“Which is how?” I ask.
Ashish offers his perspective, “Like no one in the world exists but her.”
“I honestly can’t believe Flip didn’t see it,” Roman muses.
“He’s too busy getting laid to pay attention to anyone or anything else,” Hollis says. He checks his phone and composes a message before setting it facedown on the table. “It’ll be easier for him to get over it if you give him a reason to.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I tell him.
He doesn’t have a chance to answer because Flip appears. The smile slides off his face. He points at Dallas. “Fuck you.” He aims the double bird in my direction and spins around.
Hollis grabs the back of his shirt before he can go anywhere. “You two need to sort your shit out, and we’re here to moderate.” He slides out of the booth and forces Flip in before he takes his spot again. Flip is stuck between Hollis and Roman. And I’m sandwiched between Dallas and Ashish, so I can’t go anywhere either.
“You assholes orchestrated this.” I glare at Roman.
“You two got into a fight on the ice during practice. Your personal drama directly impacts this team. We have a home game tomorrow night against Philly, and last season they handed us our asses. If they get wind that there’s dissension in the ranks, they’ll use it to their advantage. So yeah, we orchestrated this little chitchat,” Roman snaps.
“And as much as I appreciate being on the starting line, I don’t need the added stress that you two are going to fuck our game if you end up on the same line later in the game,” Hollis adds.
“I like the nachos here,” Ashish says.
“I’m mostly here because I wanted the dirt on this little development,” Dallas admits. “But Hollis and Roman are right. You two need to solve your problems, and we’re here to make sure you don’t kill each other in the process. We can’t have two of our best players suspended this early in the season.”
“Flip, I understand you’re upset, but you and Tristan have a lot of years of friendship under your belt,” Roman says. “Before you go throwing it all away, maybe you need to talk this shit out.” He motions between us.
Flip glares at me, and I stare at my half-empty beer. Guilt is heavy on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have gone behind his back, but he wouldn’t have understood. And now I’ve lost Bea, and I stand to lose my best friend. It’s the worst possible outcome.
Roman huffs. “Tristan, maybe you can start by apologizing for keeping your involvement with his sister from Flip.”
“We’re not involved anymore, thanks to him,” I spit. Being angry is better than being hurt.
“Thanks to me? You were sleeping with her behind my back for two months!”
“I don’t understand how you didn’t notice, Flip,” Ashish muses.
Roman sighs.
Dallas shakes his head.
“Why is it Flip’s fault that you’re not involved with Rix anymore?” Hollis asks.
“Because we said it would end when she moved out. And when Flip found out, he was a real fucking asshole about it. Bea shut down, and I didn’t know how to make it better, so now she’s living with Hammer.” I mean, the last part is pretty damn obvious.
“I think I have a right to be pissed off. She’s my little sister, and you hid it from me.” Flip tries to cross his arms, but he doesn’t have enough room.
“What could we say? Hey, Flip, hope you’re cool with us sleeping together? We didn’t even like each other to start with. We drive each other up the wall! Drove each other up the wall. Past tense.”
“If you irritate each other so much, why did you end up sleeping together? Repeatedly?”
“I don’t know. We pushed each other’s buttons until we broke, I guess.” I poke at my cheek with my tongue. “It was only supposed to be one time. It just happened. And we never planned to let it happen again.” I give him an imploring look. “I tried, Flip. I really tried not to want her. But she just…smells so good all the time, and she’s sassy and smart, and she was there every day, being beautiful and kind, even when I was a giant dick.”
“So you kept giving her yours,” he mutters.
“I thought maybe it would last a week or two.” I was sure her tolerance would give out. “We said it would stop when she moved, but then I convinced her to stay until after the season started,” I admit.
“Why would you do that?” Flip taps agitatedly on the table.
“I didn’t want her to leave.” I focus on my beer.
I wanted her to be there when I got back from away games, and practice, and on weekends, and every fucking day. I wanted to see her smiling face, to push her buttons, to touch her, be close to her, absorb some of her goodness since I have so fucking little of my own.
