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“Did you do it? Like I told you?”
“Uh…yeah. Yeah.”
“Ten times?”
“Yeah,” Ishir said, quieter.
Zee’s eyes swept over him. “Where did you come?”
“What?” Ishir blurted, taken aback.
“Like, in your hand? Where?”
Jesus fucking Christ.What washappening? “On my…on my chest.”
“And then you showered.”
“Yeah.”
Zee nodded. “Okay.” A pause. “Well done.”
Ishir took in a sharp breath because—there. That was what Ishir had been hoping for. To be praised for being good. For following Zee’s instructions.
Ishir didn’t reply, watching as Zee turned and went to his own bed.
Fuck. Ishir was in so goddamn deep. And the problem wasn’t even that he didn’t know how to get out of it.
It was that he didn’t want to.
CHAPTER FIVE
On the surface, everything was normal.
Ishir played hockey. Won some games, lost others, raked up the points through assists. Zee was the one who benefitted the most, converting Ishir’s passes into goals often, but he got a few rounds of drinks bought for him by some of the other guys for his playmaking skills.
By the time Christmas approached, the Cats were firmly in a playoff spot—second in the division after the Hounds, who were on a tear that year. It stung, what with them being the other New York team, but Ishir tried not to focus on what anybody else was doing.
Ishir would hang out with the boys as usual, going to Bergy’s house and chilling with his fiancée, or play darts with Nicky now that he was getting better. When their calendars aligned, he and Zee met with Olive and Levy, mainly in Central Park, where people tended not to recognise or bother them.
Those outings felt like double dates, sometimes. They’d walk down the paths, Olive and Levy holding hands, fingers chunky with gloves, pressed close together. Levy would fix Olive’s hat every time it got a little crooked, or tighten his scarf and give him a kiss on the nose as they parted, so sweet it made Ishir’s teeth ache.
If it was just that, it’d be fine. Two friends and a couple—Ishir had done that before.
The real problem, as was the case lately, was Zee.
Zee, and how he’d throw his arm over Ishir’s shoulders like it was nothing. How he’d whisper something teasing about the other two in his ear, breath hot. Even if Ishir pulled away for whatever reason, Zee would reel him back in a moment later.
Zee had always been touchy, plastered over Ishir, but it felt different combined with Olive and Levy’s lovey-dovey-ness.
Maybe he was reading too much into it…and maybe the shit they were doing every time Ishir got a goal was fucking with his head.
The next one came in Baltimore, another city he couldn’t go out and pick up in. Zee was ready, though, sidling up to him at the bar and telling him exactly what to do, step by step.
“Don’t shower after,” he finished by saying.
Ishir followed the instructions to the T, texting Zee aDonewhile lying on the bed, still panting. He got self-conscious enough to put a shirt on but avoided washing up, just like Zee had told him to.
The wait was nerve-wracking, heart barely slowing from its frantic tempo after coming.
