Not that I need his approval.
Because this is a phase.
I even asked Dr. Duret—vaguely, not mentioning Marcus or the coming-while-being-spanked incident—if a straight guy can find a man attractive.
She said yes so casually, like she wasn’t detonating my worldview.
Apparently, straight men can “experiment” sometimes. After that, they either discover they like both or prefer men, or they realize it’s not for them and return to women.
I’m obviously in that last category.Clearly.Because, hello? Jude or Kane would be my first choice, not some asshole who annoys me so much I want to commit homicide and also maybe have a stroke.
“You guys on form for tomorrow’s game?” Kane asks as he sits diagonally from me, picking at his food and barely eating.
“Always.” I grin.
“You should ask yourself that.” Jude takes a sip of his water. “Considering all the moping.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You look like death warmed under the weather.”
Jude gives me an exasperated look.“You meandeath warmed over.Under the weatheris another thing.”
“I meant to use them together. And Kane looks like both.”
“You have a point,” Jude lets out in a grunt.
“I always do, big man. Don’t go stating the obvious.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll perform as usual.” He takes a spoonful toward his mouth, then puts it back down and points at Jude. “If you don’t get violent for most of the game, and you…” He drags his finger to me. “Play like the last game. We’ll be fine.”
I swallow the mouthful of rice with difficulty, but I force a grin. “I always play in top form.”
“No, last time was possibly your best game of the season so far,” Kane says. “Definitely makes up for whatever clusterfuck happened when we played against the Wolves.”
“So I had an off day, and you keep bringing it up like a broken flash drive, but Jude is always in the box, and he gets a free pass?”
“Hey, why are you bringing me into this?” Jude shoves my shoulder with his. “And it’s a broken record, not a broken flash drive.”
“Keep up with the technology, bitch.” I shove him back and then kick him under the counter for good measure.
“Jude doesnotget a free pass,” Kane says.
“Yeah, have you seen him nagging me every day like a bored housewife? With you joining, asshole?”
“That’s because you sabotage all my good work!” I throw my hands in the air.
“Well, you sabotaged mine against the Wolves, but you don’t see me talking about that.”
“You are now! Wanna fight, motherfucker?”
“Don’t be dramatic when you lose.”
“I’m gonna fuck you up.”
“You can try, Pres.”
“Enough,” Kane says in a cutting tone, putting a halt to my and Jude’s usual bouts of arguing that have a ninety-nine percent chance of ending up in a fight.
Now that I think about it, Jude and I often fight, punching each other just to get that aggression out. Have I ever gotten hard during any of those? The answer is no.
