“Three each.”
I glance at the line of shots, each with salt on the rim and a lime wedge, then back at him.
He raises an eyebrow in challenge.
I shrug. Fuck it. Not a drinker, but I’ll do anything to empty my head right now.
Three shots back to back is, it turns out, a catastrophic decision for someone who doesn’t normally drink. Within twenty minutes the bar is spinning and louder and significantly funnier than it was before and I am not entirely sure where my center of gravity went. I stand up from the barstool and strong hands catch my arms before I trip.
“Easy, Nash.”
“Hey, keep your hands to yourself,” I tell Rhys, with what I intend to be firmness.
“Right,” he says. “Because it meant nothing,” he repeats.
“Exactly right. And it won’t happen again. Not even in my dreams.” I pause. “Your dreams. Whatever, you know what I mean.” And I push him lightly and stumble away with grace.
I start playing pool with the team. Rhys sinks the next shot and points at Cooper with the cue. “You’re obsessed with me, Coop.”
“Obviously,” he says immediately, leaning against the edge of the table like he’s personally offended Rhys even had to say it out loud. “You’re beautiful. Talented. Emotionally unavailable.You have my whole heart.”
Ben snorts into his drink.
Bryce misses his shot by a mile and squints at the table like the balls betrayed him personally. “I love you guys,” he announces, out of nowhere.
“We know,” Kowalski says solemnly.
“No, like.” Bryce presses a hand to his chest. “Seriously. Hockey brought us together. Pulled us from the streets.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter. “Bryce, your family is upper middle class, fuck off.”
Cooper appears out of nowhere, steals Bryce’s drink, and downs half of it before Bryce can react. “That’s mine,” Bryce says, sadly, looking at the bottom of his almost empty beer with a frown.
“Community drinks,” Cooper replies.
Bryce looks at me for support. “See what I deal with? They don’t respect my authority.” Bryce slaps Cooper lightly on the ass with his pool stick. Cooper immediately bends over farther. "Again, but really try this time."
I’m already laughing too hard to answer.
Cooper leans over the table during Rhys’ shot and whispers, “Miss and you hate gay people.”
“I am gay.”
“Internalized homophobia is wild. Learn to love yourself, bro.”
I miss the next shot because I’m still laughing. Bryce points at the cue ball like it personally offended him. “This game is rigged.”
“Against people who suck?” Cooper asks.
“Against friendship, man.”
Somewhere in the middle of another round and another tequila shot, Kowalski grabs my face with both hands and says,looking more emotional than I've ever seen him, “I just love you and hockey so much.”
“Okay,” I say, trying not to laugh, while I peel his hands off of me.
“No, seriously.” His eyes get suspiciously glossy. “You changed my life.”
Bryce starts clapping like this is a proposal.
