“Brat,” Deacon said, chuckling. “You asked for it. But really, you’ve tried to make him come to you, and clearly that’s not gonna work. You gotta go to him.”
“I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
“Hey, positively, you’re not gonna be tempted to hit on any of the nice ladies.”
“I’m going to be there to prevent Jordan from doing it. Or at least steering him towards doing it respectfully,” Nate said heavily as he swiped his key against his front door.
“You’ve got the gist,” Deacon said. “Wherever he goes, you’re going. Even if you hate it.”
Nate went to his fridge, grabbed a water, and then flopped down on his big, comfortable couch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the framed jersey hanging on his wall.
The jersey that had made Ramsey freak out. But then, maybe he always would’ve left. Maybe he was never going to stay, even for the night, and anything else was a delusional fantasy.
“I do hate it,” Nate grumbled. He hated a lot of things today. Starting and ending with how nice-ish Ramsey had been, and in a way that had actually felt mostly genuine.
“You okay, bud?” Deacon asked gently. “I shouldn’t have to ask. How many games have you won so far?”
“All of them.” Nate wanted to sound smug about it, but it didn’t come out that way.
“Come on, you can’t be depressed about that. So you have to go to a few strip clubs.”
“Afew? You’re underestimating Jordan Atkinson’s appetite for a strip club.”
Deacon laughed. “That’s all that’s bothering you?”
Nate had not told his friend—or anyone at all—about the Ramsey situation, but maybe he should. He didn’t know if getting it off his chest would actually help, but surely it couldn’t make the whole thingworse.
“No. There’s this guy—”
“Of course there is,” Deacon interrupted.
“Are you going to listen or not?” Nate asked archly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll listen,” Deacon agreed, still chuckling.
Nate recited what had happened as succinctly and undramatically as possible. Seeing the hottest guy in the world across the bar. Ramsey approaching him. Them flirting. Ramsey making his desires clear. Nate deciding he didn’t care—or that he could change his mind? He still wasn’t clear on that, and he skipped over it. The kiss. The sex in his place. The kitchen and its aftermath.
Then running into Ramsey at the Vault team party, and realizing that he was actually a hockey player, and a friend of Wes’.
“Wait a sec,” Deacon interrupted him again. “What did you say his name was again?”
“You’re going to fucking google him?”
“Well,yeah. You said he was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. I need to verify that this is actually factual and not just your dickmatized goggles on.”
Nate sighed. “Trust me, he’s that hot.”
“Not gonna believe you, not til I see him myself,” Deacon said.
“Fine. Ramsey Andresen.”
There was a second of quiet. Then, “Holy shit.”
It was hard not to say,I told you so, but Nate was thinking it.
“Okay, yeah. You’re right. Holy shit.”
“Good thing Grant isn’t listening in,” Nate teased.
