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“That’s gonna make ESPNs top ten plays for sure.” Luca’s excitement brings me back to the locker room. “We need to celebrate!”
“Frosty Dog?” Niko suggests our go-to pub. “I’ll tell Xander to meet us there.”
“Hell yeah.” Luca plants his hands on Justus’s shoulders, using them for leverage to jump up and down. “The ladies will be lining up to see if this guy’s got as much magic in the bedroom as he does on the ice.”
Justus turns as red as a tomato—or maybe that’s just exertion from the game—and steps away to start putting stuff in his locker while Niko snorts under his breath. “You’re totally gonna pimp him out to try to score yourself, aren’t you?”
“Duh.” Luca shrugs as if that should be obvious.
Once we’re all showered and changed, we head over to the bar, which as usual, is packed after a home game. The crowd graciously parts as we work our way to the back where the owner reserves a section for us, random hands begging for a high-five or slapping our shoulders as we pass. Since the owner has a policy against asking us for selfies and autographs, we manage to cut through the crowd pretty quickly.
This time I’m prepared to see Tripp, who as usual is sitting across the table from Xander. I’m actually a little grateful that this encounter isn’t the first time I’m seeing him tonight, because the sight of him in my jersey is even more powerful up close. I blink and watch Niko kiss his boyfriend hello so I don’t give off the wrong impression, though when I finally bring myself to look in Tripp’s direction he’s patting the seat next to him with a knowing smirk.
“You like?” He pinches the shoulder of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger.
Across the table Niko whines, “Even Tripp is wearing a jersey. The wrong one, but still.”
“Tripp cannot wear my boyfriend’s number," Xander says, shaking his head. "Not a chance in Hell."
“Well, my actual boyfriend isn’t wearing it.”
“You know dating a jock goes against my moral code, don’t ask me to broadcast it.” Xander grins and rolls his eyes.
As the two of them flirt-fight, I angle my head towards Tripp. “Where’d that come from?” I ask quietly as I tug on the hem of the jersey.
“It was incredibly hard to find.” He sighs with mock frustration. “They only carry it at every sporting goods store, online, and at the gift shop at the rink.”
“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.
