Page 45 of Line Change

NOLAN

Hooking up with a teammate once was a blip. The second time was probably a mistake. After two weeks, I don’t know what to call what Ben and I are doing.

He hasn’t put a name on it. Obviously.

Pope texts after practice and shows up at my place a few hours later. Sometimes he stays for a hockey game. Once he stayed long enough to eat half the takeout he’d recommended, then got annoyed when I pointed out that he was the one who picked something with mushrooms.

The first few times, he waited in the hall after I opened the door. I had to grab his shirt and drag him inside. Now he steps in on his own and kisses me as soon as the door shuts. He still looks pissed about wanting me, but that might just be his face.

Mostly, we fuck.

He’s learned how to suck cock with terrifying speed. He still gets this hard, focused look right before he puts his mouth on me, like he’s preparing to win an important face-off. Then his tongue hits the right place and I stop finding it funny. Last night he held my hips down and took me deep enough that I saw white spots behind my eyes before I’d even come.

His curious side provides a lot of orgasms.

It also leaves me with no idea whether this is the only version of Ben I’m ever going to get. Maybe he’s going to be one of those assholes who dates women and hooks up with men on the side, keeping everybody separate until someone gets hurt. Maybe he’s going to get me out of his system and never touch another guy. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else, and I haven’t asked.

I’m not sure I’d like the answer.

Whatever this is, it has kept me in my apartment for two weeks fucking my linemate and abandoning my friends.

“So,” Tessa says, “who is she?”

I look up from the answer sheet in the middle of our table. “Who is who?”

Micah leans around her to see my face. “Who is he?”

“Or they,” Tessa adds. “We’re not making assumptions.”

“Very progressive of you. There’s nobody.” I reach for the pen, but Micah takes it first.

“You missed two trivia nights.”

“Hockey.”

“You always have hockey. You still show up and complain about it.” He has me there, so I steal his beer.

Marlowe’s looks exactly the same as the last time I was here. The booths are still worn, and my crooked Leviathans picture still hangs behind the bar. The host is reading questions from the front while every table writes answers on paper and guards them from anyone walking past. Tessa and Micah have carried us through most of the first two rounds without me.

I did contribute Lake Baikal and an argument over whether a tomato counts as a berry, so I’m not completely useless. Still, I’ve missed this. Micah has changed our team name twice since I sat down, and Tessa has threatened to stab him with the pen. My usual beer appeared before I asked for it. I’ve been back in the lineup for a week, and nobody here cares about the three games I missed as long as I know enough answers to make up for disappearing.

Tessa takes Micah’s beer out of my hand and gives it back to him. “You’ve also been impossible to reach after nine.”

“Maybe I started going to bed early.” Neither of them believes a fucking word of that. “Fine. Fuck you too.”

My phone vibrates against the table before either of them can ask another question.

Pope.

You doing anything?

Micah leans far enough across the table that I turn the screen against my chest. “Oh my God. That’s the person.”

“You can’t see anything.” I tuck the phone closer to my stomach.

“Your face changed.”

“I don’t have a different face for texts.” Tessa holds out her hand, and I move the phone out of her reach before she can ask.