Page 41 of Save the Game

“We’ve got time. It’s early, still. You could go back to sleep if you wanted,” I suggest, because he could probably benefit from a solid ten hours of sleep.

“Mm, maybe. Or…,” he rolls his hips against mine, as though making sure I noticed the massive boner he’s rocking, “we could do something else.”

“Brush our teeth?” I ask innocently. His laugh propels him forward, face bumping into my chin. Cupping a hand over the back of his head, I keep him there, kissing along his scalp and forehead—any place I can reach.

He props himself up on an elbow and looks down at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head once and closes it again. Raising my eyebrows, I reach up and pinch his chin.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, say it,” I pull his bottom lip down with my thumb, grinning up at him. He gives another small shake of his head. “All right, well, if you won’t tell me then I’m just going to have to fill in the blanks. You were going to tell me that I have the body of a Greek god,” he snorts, and I trace my fingers down the line of his throat and over his collarbone, “and that my sexual prowess knows no bounds,” his breath hitches as my knuckles graze over his abdomen, “and that you cannot fathom how you’ve survived so long without me.” I slide my hand under the waistband of his boxers and rest it along his hip. “Did I get it?”

“Yes,” he says solemnly, “you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“I knew it.”

“Greek god?” He asks, lips twitching. “Seriously?”

“Do you want to know what I think about you?” I ask, and he’s already shaking his head even before I can finish. I open my mouth to keep talking but he captures my lips with his and there is no more talking for the rest of the morning.

Whistling, I change back into my street clothes after practice, propping my phone up so I can use the screen to check my hair. I’m heading over to Max’s, bag packed with toiletries and a change of clothes; we’ve been spending nearly every night together the past few weeks, as though that first sleepover was all that was needed to break the dam. We trade off most nights, alternating between his place and mine, getting each other off before wrapping ourselves around one another and falling asleep.

There is an unmissable change in Max, and I don’t know if it can all be attributed to being well rested. He seems more relaxed, easier with himself and the world. His skin has lost the sallow, pinched look of one who doesn’t eat or sleep enough, and he’s missing much of the vulnerability he used to radiate. I feel more comfortable reaching for him and initiating things that I might not have attempted before, and even though we’ve gone no further than touching and using our mouths, it still feels like some great sexual hurdle has been cleared.

He feels safe with me.

Tugging my shirt down, I glance across the room as I bend over to put on my shoes. Marcos is a few lockers away from mine, chin tucked as he carefully buttons up his shirt. As though he can feel my eyes on him, he looks over and tips his head in greeting. Shoes on, I swing my bag over my shoulder and walk over to talk to him. To say things have been easier between us lately is an understatement; he so obviously loves Max that I can’t hold his overprotectiveness against him. Particularly not when I feel the same.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he grunts. “I’m not going to be home tonight, if that’s what you came over to ask.”

“Can’t I just want to say hi?” I ask innocently, and he rolls his eyes. I don’t miss the way his lip twitches though, as if he wants to smile.

“I’ve got a couple tickets to Max’s game this weekend, since it’s not too far away. Figured you could join me if you wanted to,” he says, carefully holding out the olive branch and watching me to see if I’ll take it.

“Thanks, I will. And you don’t have to vacate the apartment every time I come over,” I say, falling into step beside him as we leave the locker room. “I can bite down on something so that I’m not too loud when I?—."

“Fucking hell, Luke, you can’t just have a normal conversation, can you?” He asks, scowling at me as I crack up.

“I can’t help it, you’re so easy to piss off.” I nudge his shoulder with mine to let him know I’m joking. “Seriously, though, don’t feel like you have to leave just because I’m there. And thanks for inviting me to the game this weekend.”

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Max will be happy you’re going.”

“Speaking of,” I say, hitching my bag more firmly up my shoulder, “I’ve got to get going. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Jogging backwards a few steps, I give him a goodbye salute before turning and hastening toward my car. Here I come, Maxy, I think, as my car fires up on the first try and I pull out of the parking lot. He doesn’t live that far off campus, but the parking lots are always a damn mess and it’s forty-five minutes before I park in front of his apartment building. I knock before popping the door open and calling out for him.

“It’s me.”

“I’m back here,” his muffled voice comes from the direction of his bathroom. Slipping off my shoes, I walk down the hall just as he opens the door. Steam escapes the bathroom and I duck inside to see Max standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hello, you,” I say, propping myself in the doorway and leaning my head against the wood. He steps over, leaning in to give me a kiss in greeting.

“Hi, sorry, I decided to shower here instead of the rink. Time kind of got away from me.”

“Good lord, don’t apologize on my account. I’m very much on board with all of this,” I wave a hand to indicate his naked chest, dappled with beads of water, and the towel slung low on his hips. His wet hair is darkened to solid brown, and his face flushed with heat from the shower. In this moment I understand precisely what might drive a person to become a cannibal; I want to eat him up.

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