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Tripp’s made no less than three sex jokes in the last thirty minutes, so he’s either really good at acting “normal” or he doesn’t have a concussion.
Truthfully, I didn’t think he’d given himself a head injury, but it made for a good excuse to stick around. I only wish I knew why I had a minor panic at the thought of him leaving. It’s not like I’m unaccustomed to being alone, and Tripp’s company often leaves me with questions I don’t know how to answer. Yet, when he offered a room in his place… That felt like a lifeline.
Am I lonely enough that even Tripp’s lewd company seems appealing, or am I lonely for Tripp? Given that any one of my teammates could offer lewd company, I have to consider the possibility it’s the latter. I’m still not sure why that is: entertainment, curiosity, fascination. Maybe some combination of the three. I only know I like being around him. I prefer it to being alone, even if he tries to rile me with his shameless flirting.
Speaking of, he’s watching me expectantly, waiting for my reply. “Why are you so determined to show me your dick?” I ask him.
“That bothers you?” He arches a suggestive brow.
“No. I sort of expect it now. I just don’t know why you keep offering.”
“Because you’re so curious to see it.” He reclines into the couch and takes another sip of his beer like he didn’t just make an outlandish assumption.
Since he’s so nonchalant, I act the same. “What makes you say that?”
His eyes gleam as though I’ve walked right into his trap. I probably have. “First, I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Spoiler alert, I’m always paying attention. And second, you don’t discourage my lame attempts to touch you. You totally play along.”
“I don’t ask you to touch me,” I say reflexively.
He casts me a sly grin. “You don’t stop me either. I mean, measuring your biceps? Asking whether you can flex your pecs independently of each other and telling you I need to feel it since I can’t see it? All excuses to put my hands on you, and you oblige every time.”
Huh, I guess I don’t discourage him. I’m not sure that makes me eager to see his dick, though truthfully, my own seems to wake up a little when he touches me. It hasn’t become hard, but it didn’t stay flaccid either.
I lift my gaze back to his, not realizing I dropped it. “I don’t mind humoring you.”
“You don’t, do you?” He smirks like we’ve just shared some private joke, though I’m not sure what it is. “Like I said, I’m always paying attention.”
“About that, what did you mean when you said you see how I look at you? How do I look at you?”
“With desire, obviously. You may think it’s because I’m pretty or whatever, and it may have started that way, but now you want to do more than look.”
Once again, my first instinct is to object, but before I can get the words out his start to sink in. I do think he’s pretty—I’ve admitted that to him—and I’ve admitted to myself that I like looking at him. Watching him move, especially on that skateboard. Does that mean I want to do more than look? Does it mean I’m physically attracted to him?
Considering my body does seem to be more alert around him, I suppose it’s possible. Hell, the first time I saw him I suspected that the unknown feeling I got was attraction, though in the months since I convinced myself it was affection since I genuinely like him. It does surprise me that I might be attracted to Tripp since he’s so loud and brash and deliberately obnoxious, and I’m…not. Although there’s no denying it’s hard to keep my eyes off him. Touching him though… Is that why I look?
“Are you short-circuiting over there? All I did was imply that you might not be as straight as you think.” Tripp’s blunt assessment, though slightly off the mark, is a welcome interruption.
“I’m not freaking out if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just not sure you’re right.”
“Because you’re so clearly attracted to women?”
“Because I’m not sure I’m attracted to anyone at all. Man or woman.” The retort is out of my mouth before I can decide whether it’s a good idea or not. Though, I have to admit watching Tripp’s jaw bob comically up and down is pretty satisfying. He's used to delivering shocking statements, not receiving them.
I pop the top of my beer and take a sip to hide my proud smirk, indulging in a little liquid courage before the inquisition begins.
“You… I… Seriously? You’re…” He swivels his hand in the air as if that will help his brain process information. “You’re asexual?”
I guess I have to walk through this door now that I opened it. “Maybe.”
“What do you mean maybe? How do you not know?”
“I don’t really dwell on it. Hockey is sort of all-consuming, and I figure I’ll have plenty of time after I retire to focus on other things.”
“Other things being sex.” His jaw still doesn’t shut all the way, which is starting to make me feel uncomfortable. It’s not that strange to be indifferent about sex, is it?
“Sex, hobbies, travel,” I rattle off the first things that come to mind.
“Hold up.” He raises his hand like it’s a stop sign. “Have you ever had sex?”
