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“Sorry.” I put the phone back in my pocket. “Wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a friend checking in. You got any plans tonight? Or,” Nico’s mouth kicks up into a bigger smile, “can I come over?”
“I never have plans. You can come over.”
We apply ourselves to eating, then, and conversation fades to background noise and idle chitchat. It feels less like an awkward date, and more like how I imagine dinners at Troy’s or Corwin’s go. It’s comfortable, and I can greatly see the appeal. Getting to know someone is exhausting, and after having done it so many times I’m pretty well sick of it. I want someone to stick, and I want that someone to be Nico. God help me.
When the check is placed in the center of the table, I reach for it at the same time Nico does and our fingers brush. He holds the folder down on the tabletop, not letting me pull it away from him.
“I’ve got it,” we say, simultaneously. Nico doesn’t move his hand.
“Let me,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“You drove here, I’ll get dinner,” he tells me, firmly.
“It was my idea to go out to dinner, so I’ll pay,” I argue, and the scowl creeps back onto his face.
“You buy dinner for usall the time, Anthony. Let go.” He looks pointedly down at where I’m clutching a corner of the folder.
“Come on, Nico.” I don’t want to say it, but all I can think of is how much more money I make than he does. I can’t imagine what sort of medical bills he might have to contend with, and I know exactly what salary was offered to me to help coach at SCU for the summer. It wasn’t exactly hefty, and although he probably makes more as the head coach, I know it’s not anywhere close to what I make in the NHL.
“This one is on me,” he says again. He’s far more stubborn than I am; I can recognize a losing battle when I see one. The second I loosen my grip, he slides the bill to his side of the table and squints down at the paper.
“Thank you,” I say, softly, watching him struggle with the miniscule print. He glances up.
“You’re welcome.”
I resolve to make it up to him later, and on this thought, I practically levitate out of my seat and to the car. Noting my haste, Nico laughs softy as he settles into the passenger seat. As he usually does, he rests his head back and closes his eyes. This, I know, isn’t an effort to get me to leave him alone, or any sort of rudeness; rather, it’s him resting his eyes. Like always, I let him do this in peace, knowing also that he could probably use a break from conversation after yelling at hockey players all day.
“What ever happened with Avery?” Nico asks into the quiet of the vehicle. I look over at him, taking in the still calm expression and closed eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. He was worked up about something you said to him the other day, and I only just remembered. He seems to think you were disrespectful.”
Snorting, I navigate the vehicle carefully around a bend. “Oh, that. He made a crack about Morgan and called him that damn nickname so I told him to leave off. I’ll admit, I wasn’t having a great day, so it might have come out a little harsher than I had intended.”
“He did?” Nico lifts his head, eyes greener than usual in the sunlight filtering through the windows. I concentrate on the road. “He shouldn’t be doing that, I told him it’s not appropriate.”
“Well.” I shrug. “He probably won’t, anymore. At least not where we can hear him.”
“Avery isn’t a bad coach. He works hard and does everything I ask of him.”
“But?” I prompt, because there was a very obviousbutwaiting at the end of that statement.
“But there’s something about him the rubs me wrong. I shouldn’t say that, because he’s my AC, but if I’m being honest, he’s not someone I’d ever invite out for a beer after work.”
“I agree.” Reaching across the console, I nudge his knee. “See? Looks like you’ve got good instincts about people after all.”
“Subtle,” he says, and reaches back over to my side of the car to rest his hand on my thigh. Surprise shoots through me, my hands jerking the steering wheel unnecessarily and almost veering across the center line. Heart pounding, I wait for him to remove it. He doesn’t, and I’m so absurdly grateful I could cry.
Nico, completely unaware of the havoc that hand on my leg is causing, lapses back into silence and closes his eyes once more. Giddiness rushes through my veins like a straight endorphin injection. I’m so impatient to get to his house I miss the exit and have to take a detour, adding an extra fifteen minutes onto our journey.
Completely unruffled, as usual, Nico walks casually inside. He doesn’t bother with the lights, so neither do I. I understand now the odd placement of all the furniture: strategically positioned so he could find his way around the room blind, and nothing ever an inch out of place. I’m careful to leave everything just how I found it. I’m also more aware of the cleanliness of my own house, even though Nico hasn’t returned since that first time. If he does, I’ll be ready, with not a single obstacle in place.
When we walk into the bedroom, I stop Nico from getting too far ahead by placing my hands on his hips and pulling him back. Kissing the back of his neck, I wrap one arm firmly around his waist, keeping him against me. He sighs, long and deep, tipping his head backward and giving me better access to his throat. I run my hand up the front of his shirt and back down again. Tucking my face into his neck, I take a second just to breathe him in.
