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I feel like I’m glaring, though I can’t seem to relax my face. “Don’t you do that already? Why would you need a fancy name and mission to chase after hockey players?”
“I wouldn’t.” He stares right back, head cocked to the side. “What’s this really about? I just told you I like the balls on those bunnies. I think gay men should have sex as unabashedly as they do. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” I drop my arms and stalk toward the couch, dropping heavily onto the opposite end.
“Then why are you upset?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re talking about picking up other players while you’re hooking up with me.” It’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize their implication. Oh shit, am I jealous?
A coy little smirk creeps across his face, like he’s privy to some secret I’m not. “I said gay men should take a page out of the puck bunny playbook. I didn’t suggest that I planned to pick up anyone. The other guys just assumed I meant me.”
My mouth drops open in protest though no words come out. I would’ve sworn he said he wanted to pick up visiting players, but my memory can’t definitively put those words in his mouth.
Tripp arches a knowing brow, and I hate that I notice how attractive that makes him look. “You thought I was trying to find a new hockey god while I’ve been hooking up with you?”
“I…well…” A second ago, I was convinced that was his intent, but as I struggle to justify my thoughts the playful glint in his eye fades, leaving him looking almost wounded.
“I’m a lot of things, Noah Tremblay, but I’m not that big of an asshole. I am a little confused though. You don’t want me chasing anyone else, but you also didn’t tell your friends you’re staying here. Does that mean you don’t want them to know what we’ve been doing the last few days?”
Until just now, my mother was the only person to reprimand me using my full name, and it has the same effect, making me feel both ashamed and defensive. “I don’t care if they know,” I tell the floor.
“Are you sure about that? A few days ago, you were convinced you were asexual, and before that you thought you were straight. Now you’re into men, something you didn’t admit when you had the chance.”
“It’s not okay to be confused?” I wring my hands together to keep them from shaking, whether from anger or insecurity, I’m not sure.
“I didn’t say that.” Tripp shakes his head while pursing his lips.
“I’m not afraid of being attracted to another man.” I’m afraid of being broken, of not understanding who I am, but not of how attracted I am to Tripp.
“I believe you. That doesn’t mean you’re ready for your friends to know, or that you even know what to tell them.”
“What does that mean?” I find the nerve to look at him, a strange combination of patience and wariness on his face.
“Are you gay, bi, pan, something else? Do you like all men or just me? If you like men, are you a top or bottom?”
I lick my lips nervously. “No one is going to ask if I top or bottom.”
“Not a reporter, but anyone you hook up with will. And you don’t know the answer.”
“Then help me figure it out! Fuck me.” I point my finger at my chest. “Maybe then I'll know.”
Based on Tripp’s frozen expression, the desperation in my voice surprises him as much as me. I only hope it’s a good sort of surprise, because now that I’ve said it out loud, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. It sounds…right.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Tripp sighs, “but I think we should just chill tonight. Dicks in our pants.”
“You don’t want to have sex?” I nearly choke on the words, my shock making it hard to breathe. In my wildest dreams Tripp never said no to a request to fuck, yet he’s still sitting on the other side of the couch, not even attempting to undress the way I expected he would.
Tripp shakes his head slowly back and forth. “I always want to have sex, but just sex. No relationship stuff. No feelings. I don’t want to blur the lines.”
Blur the… Where is this coming from?
“The only thing that’s blurry is you told me how much you want to fuck me, said you wanted to help me figure out if I like guys, and now that we know I do you’re backing off. What's changed? Just last night, you were insanely proud to get me off. Now, you're not bragging about doing it again? Why?” I hate the anguish in my voice, yet I can’t seem to hold it back. These past few days are the only ones in recent memory when my body didn’t betray me during intimate moments, something Tripp’s guidance and patience were instrumental in, and the thought of losing that so soon after I found it is terrifying.
“I am proud I got you off when no one else could, and I do want to do it again.” His voice is disturbingly level, like he thinks a calm tone will calm me. “But you were upset thinking about me with someone else earlier, and that should be a red flag for both of us.”
Okay, I admit the thought of Tripp with anyone else set me off. Though, I think that was on principle, not because I want to have a claim on him. Isn’t it?
“You have a problem with monogamy?” I ask.
