Page 88 of Melting the Ice

He didn’t feel like he deserved it, or the victory fries that they’d share together.

“Come on,” Zach said, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s celebrate.”

Brody grimaced but dropped down next to Ramsey, who was staring at the menu like he hadn’t been eating here for three plus years.

“Listen, I went too hard. I know that,” Brody said. “I’m sorry.”

“I warned you,” Ramsey said, not looking at him.

Brody felt the snub like a fist to the face.

This wasRamsey. One of his best friends.

“Maybe you’re not taking this shit seriously,” Ramsey continued quietly, before Brody could try to argue—or apologize—again. “But the rest of us fucking are, Brody.”

“I’m taking it seriously,” Brody argued. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.

But even as he told himself that, this was still the biggest goddamn slam to his ego.

Ramseytellinghimto take something seriously.

But this Ramsey was a new and improved Ramsey. Still the same Ramsey on the surface, sure, easygoing and fun and the life of every party, but underneath? There was a steel to him that Brody had never seen before.

Hewantedthis in a way Ramsey never had before.

In a way Brody recognized, because he used to feel this way about hockey.

“Not seriously enough,” Ramsey said.

Brody stood. “I’m good,” he spat and marched out, letting the door slam behind him.

Dean couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed that he and Brody had only managed to share a single pair of rushed hand jobs this week. Or that Brody had already texted him and said he’d be late getting home tonight, too, after the game, because if they won—and Brody had added that theyweregonna win, no questions—they’d be going out after.

And a few minutes ago, he’d checked the scores and sure enough, the Evergreens hockey team had beaten the Olympia Sabretooths.

Dean was happy for Brody. He shouldn’t be disappointed.

Brodyshouldbe out celebrating with his teammates.

But he was. Disappointed. And restless. And horny.

Their plane had gotten in from their Saturday game, and he was by himself in the apartment, wishing more than he felt comfortable admitting to, just how much wanted to not be alone tonight.

Dean flopped back on the couch.

Considered putting ESPN or a movie on.

But he was alone. Totally alone.

You could watch anything you fucking wanted to. Anything at all.

Dean’s fingers twitched on the remote, but finally, instead of clicking on something innocent like Sportscenter, he hit the power button instead.

He shouldn’t.

It felt wrong to do this without Brody, even if he was thinking about Brody.

A few days ago, Wes had sent him a link to a porn site—specifically agayporn site—hosting a free two-week trial period, and had added,in case you need any extra info. Or any additional inspiration.

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