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“I mean why would you buy it? I’d have given you one if I knew you wanted it.”
“How would you know I wanted it when you haven’t called?”
“You haven’t called me, either.” I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest.
“True, but I’m exceedingly comfortable with having a fuck buddy and you… Well, we don’t know that yet. So, I figure it’s up to you if I put my stick in your net.”
Fortunately, Niko and Xander are too busy pretending to be the only ones here to notice me blushing or hear Tripp. “You’re the one who has a thing for dark and moody. Wearing a jersey is the opposite,” Xander insists.
“What if you wear it while I fuck you? Then no one will see it but me.” Niko’s proposal has Xander chewing on his lip suggestively.
“I feel the need to point out this isn’t a fanboy thing.” Tripp interrupts their bickering and plucks his jersey again, which has green numbers on a black background, then points to his hair. “Green just happens to be a difficult color to match.”
Niko and Xander pay him no mind and go back to negotiating the terms of wearing a jersey while I try in vain not to reach out and touch Tripp’s hair. “So…green. Where’d that come from?”
“I needed a change. And bonus, Bulldogs colors are black and green.”
“You just said this wasn’t a fanboy thing.”
“That’s right.”
“You didn’t pick green since I asked about it?”
“Did you? Hmm, that’s right. But you also asked about blue. I probably should’ve gone that route. Green really is a challenging color. Beers!” he exclaims as Luca and Justus set a pitcher with a half dozen glasses in front of us.
He puts a hand on my leg—his finger dangerously close to my junk—and leans over to reach for a glass. The gesture isn’t at all out of character for him, though instead of pulling back to give him some space like I typically do, I lean toward his ear and lower my voice. “I think it makes you look sort of dangerous. And sexy.”
“What are you blushing about over there, Tripp?” Luca asks as Tripp retreats to his seat.
“I just felt Noah up and I liked it.” He doesn’t miss a beat, and since everyone is so used to his antics, they don’t consider he’s telling the truth. But I know better. He’s blushing because I called him sexy.
“Fine, I’ll wear it for the playoffs. Final games only though, as in playing for the cup, not winning your conference.” Xander takes the focus off Tripp, laying out his terms to Niko like a peace treaty.
I’m not sure how they went from sex to playoffs, but I’m happy for Niko. Having someone you care about wear your jersey, especially one you give them, is a point of pride for most of us. For Niko to see Xander wearing his number in the stands, I’m not sure there’s any greater motivation than winning for the person wearing your name. Except winning for your teammates.
“Guys, we have to play for the cup.” Niko clears his throat and turns a near desperate gaze on all of us.
“Uh, don’t we do that every year?” Justus asks.
“Yeah, but the only way Xander will wear my jersey is if we make it to the final round.”
“Xander, what would your father say?” Luca scolds, which makes sense since Xander’s dad is our coach.
“He’d pat me on the back for finding a way to motivate Niko.”
“I’d say he doesn’t need that to motivate him.” Justus shoots an apologetic look at Niko. “But knowing how he feels about you, having you wear his jersey is just as meaningful as winning the cup.”
“Cruel but effective.” Luca taps his glass against Xander’s before raising it for a group toast. “Speaking of effective, have you ever seen a shot as brilliant as the one my boy took tonight?”
Now, it’s Justus’s turn to blush. As a fellow forward he idolized Luca for years, and now his adolescent hero is his mentor. I’ve heard the saying that you should be careful about meeting your heroes, but in this case, it seems to be benefiting both of them. They’ve developed a rhythm that’s hard for defenses to stop.
We all toast Justus’s incredible play then start rehashing our favorite moments from the game, while Xander offers his bird’s eye perspective—he’s fairly astute as assessing games given his lineage—and Tripp gushes about fast shots and hard hits.
Though I jump in with my own observations and laugh at all the right moments, my thoughts never stray completely away from Tripp. We’re not touching, but he’s close enough that I feel him next to me, like a live wire, crackling with energy. It makes me want to put my hand on his leg, to trail my fingers along the inside of his knee and watch him shudder. I’d do it if I thought it was a fuck buddy gesture, but since that kind of touch is something Niko and Xander started only after coming out to us, I’m pretty sure it falls into boyfriend territory.
Needless to say, by the time everyone’s ready to go, I’m feeling desperate and deprived. I'm positively clueless about how to say that to Tripp. I manage to catch his eye a few times as we pay the bill, and again in the parking lot, but when he heads to his car, I can only assume those looks didn’t say what I wanted them to. It’s not until I’m home, staring blankly at my phone and debating how to start a text asking to see him, when the doorbell makes me realize they worked. Sort of.
“You’re lucky you resemble a Norse god because puppy dog eyes don’t usually work on me,” Tripp declares as he steps inside, green eyes full of mischief.
