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“You could say the same thing about most guys you hook up with, but you’ve never spent the night with them.”
Right about now, I’m regretting the extent to whichI exploit my exploits to Xander. In my defense, I was pretty certain he wasn't paying attention half of the time.
“We’re talking in circles here. You know why I’ve been spending the night. Stop reading into everything.”
“Stop pretending your motives are purely altruistic. You’re staying there because you want to, not because you need to.”
“He does have a magnificent shower.” I snatch a pen off Xander’s desk and start spinning it around my fingers.
Xander snatches the pen back. “He’s different, admit it. And while we’re on the topic, so are you, and I don’t just mean your hair color. Since the day I met you, you’ve been hiding in plain sight. You’re loud and obnoxious and outspoken, but you don't fool me. It's an act to make people think you’re an open book when really all they see is the cover. Noah sees through it, doesn’t he? And you like it, don't you? That’s why you haven’t left when he doesn’t, and never really did, need you to take care of him.”
Wow. All this time I thought Xander was too broody and guarded himself to realize there wasn’t much substance behind most of my word vomit. Being sickeningly happy–like a chocolate addict being welcome into Willy Wonks's chocolate factory–must’ve opened his eyes. I blame Niko. Clearly, he's at fault here.
“Perhaps the big guy is more interesting than I first thought.”
“Still not willing to admit you might have feelings for him, huh?” Xander narrows his eyes, and while that warrants a saucy retort, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t have one, so I just stare at him blankly. “Fine,” he dismisses me by focusing on his computer, and since I don’t have a retort for that either, I slink back to my own desk, wondering if it’s already too late to say we’re simply friends with benefits.
Chapter 19 - Noah
“When are you coming back?” There’s an uncharacteristic hitch in Luca’s voice, which I’m not sure can be attributed to a poor connection.
“The doctor says at least two more weeks, if I have full range of motion.”
“Dammit.” He exhales.
“What’s wrong with that? It’s faster than originally projected.”
“I need you back. I’m playing like shit.”
“You guys have two losses. That’s nothing we can’t recover from.” I try to talk him down.
“I’m not talking about the team, I’m talking about me. Everyone else is pulling their weight but I’m flailing out there. I need you back. I’m not myself…” he trails off.
He doesn’t need to say anything else for me to know where this is going, and it’s a direction I’m not as comfortable with as I once was. Still, I have to tread carefully because regardless of what I think, he’s rooted in his beliefs. And if there’s one thing I understand, if something makes you feel like you play better, regardless of how ridiculous it seems, you do it.
“Luca, I’m not the key to your success. You’re still playing great. Just yesterday you scored two goals.”
“That was a home game. I have an arrangement for those.” He has an arrangement? Huh. I always wondered how that worked. “It’s the road games where I struggle. I need you to—”
“I’m not cleared to travel,” I interrupt before he can ask what I suspect he wants to ask.
“I know, but maybe we can work something out. I could video chat you or something.”
Shit. That’d be a reasonable solution if I was still single, but I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am… Tripp might have a different opinion. We haven’t talked about what we are, and I was hoping not to just yet since I’m pretty sure he’s not ready to label it. But Luca won’t understand my hesitation without a label to explain it, and if I’m going to deny his request after all these years, I owe him an explanation.
“Can we come up with another option? One that maybe doesn’t involve me?”
“One that… Oh shit. This is because of Tripp, isn’t it? You’re not just fucking you’re…fucking.”
“I don’t understand the difference, but yeah. It’s because of Tripp. I don’t feel right being your audience when I’m sleeping with him.”
“The difference is you’re not just having a little fun between the sheets, you like him.”
“I do. I really do.” I’m suddenly grateful to be on the phone so he can’t see the heat rush to my face with that admission. Not that I’m ashamed to have feelings for Tripp, I just can’t help worrying that those feelings will be our downfall, seeing as we had an agreement. We promised not to let ourselves get to this point. If I’m being honest, I always suspected this would happen, and I secretly hoped it would.
The fact we’ve been practically living together for the past few weeks probably accelerated things, but right from the start I questioned whether I liked all men or only Tripp. Now, I can confidently say it’s only Tripp. Whether I’d be attracted to another man if I gave myself the opportunity to explore that I’m not sure, but I am sure I don’t need to find out.
Tripp makes things fun. Not just sex, but life. He’s full of energy, finds pleasure in just about everything, and makes me see things in a new light. For years, all I saw was hockey, and I don’t regret that. The sport has given me so much, and it’s fulfilled me in a way nothing else could. It's also why I was wary of retirement, which is looming in the not-so-distant future. For the first time in, maybe ever, I can see a future that doesn’t revolve around hockey. Tripp gave me that.
