Page 32 of From Coast to Coast

“No, probably best not to do that.” I shoot him a look across the dim interior of the car.

“Besides, all we did was kiss, right? No harm in that,” Remy says, shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug.

Right. Except now I know what he tastes like, and how he feels pressed against me. I know that his shampoo smells like coconut and the skin on his neck is soft and smooth. That was the least satisfying kiss in the history of kissing, because now, instead of being sated, I want more. Remy’s blaséall we did was kissdoes make me wonder if it was quite as spectacular for him as it was for me, but it also gives me an idea.

“Yeah,” I agree, carefully watching the road and not looking over at him. “Could lead to more, though. If we wanted.”

“I’m loving that I was able to get you over to the dark side so easily,” he says smugly. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “Welcome to the world of casual sex, my friend.”

He sounds so much calmer than he did in the parking lot after I kissed him, and I don’t know him well enough to gauge which Remy is the act. Chances are pretty high that once he gets his fill of guys—or in this case, me—he’ll go back to dating women with a few new sexual experiences to brag about. He’s made it clear he’s looking for fun andexperimentation, and I need to make sure I don’t forget that. I may not know him well, but I damn well know myself. I’ll be the one catching feelings and getting my heart broken unless I heed the warning signs he’s projecting.

“We can’t tell anybody else what we’re doing,” I tell him.

“What are we doing?”

“That’s up to you.” This time, I do glance over at him. He’s already looking at me. “If you’re wanting to…try new things in a safe environment, I can give that to you. But we can’t tell anyone, or post shit on social media, or go out on public dates. This”—I take a hand off the wheel to gesture between us—“won’t fly with management here. There isn’t a whole lot they can do to me with the contract I’ve got, but they can easily get rid of you. If we’re doing this, I want it to be fun and not cause you any trouble.”

“Or you.”

“Or me, what?”

“You said you don’t want to cause me trouble. I don’t want any for you, either.”

I laugh, even though it comes out sounding forced and unhappy. “Oh, I’d say that ship has sailed.”

He’s quiet after that, so I let him have the silence. I’ve never been one who needs to fill the void with words, anyway; he’ll talk when he’s ready. When I pull up to the house and wait for the garage door to make its slow way upward, I chew on my lip and think about how this arrangement would even work with our current situation. Remy, apparently, has the same thought.

“I’ve started looking for my own place. There’s an apartment complex within walking distance of the rink and they have furnished options available.”

Surprised, I look at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugsand opens the door to slide out of the car. I join him and we head inside. I’m disappointed that he’s been looking at other living arrangements. Which is, of course, fucking ridiculous. Him living with me was always meant to be temporary and that shouldn’t change just because I enjoy getting an eyeful of him when he walks around the house without a shirt on.

“You’ve already been looking?”

“Yeah.” He grins at me, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island and drum his heels lightly against the wood paneling. “I was thinking you’d be more open to hooking up with me if we could knock roommates off your list of reasons not to bang.”

I laugh even though I’m pretty sure he’s entirely serious. I kick off my shoes and loosen the top button on my shirt as I walk around Remy and grab a glass for water. Drinking it down, I fill it back up and hand it to him. He grins—crookedly, which is getting more attractive each time I see it—and drinks from the same side of the glass I did.

“Well, let it be said that I like having you here,” I tell him honestly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I would never say this to his face, and I’ll deny everything if you tell him, but I loved having Z living here. I might go so far as to say that Imissedhim after he moved out.”

Remy gasps, and I nod solemnly.

“It’s true,” I admit.

“You guys pick at each other like an old married couple. I can only imagine how it was living together.”

“It’s from living together that we learned how to pick at each other. The true test of a friendship is whether you can pull off living together or not.” I walk over and lean a hipagainst the counter, close to where Remy is seated. He widens his legs until his thigh brushes my elbow. “Truthfully, though, Zolkov is a good friend, and he was a good housemate. He never said as much, but he was disappointed to be traded here. He wanted to stay in South Carolina.”

“With your friend Nichols.”

“And Lawson and Sanhover. They were all set to adopt Z into their friend group and then he was traded. Poor kid.”

“No kidding. He had it good over there.” He moves his leg, jostling my elbow. “Now, are you trying to deflect the conversation away from us by talking about Zolkov?”

Snorting, I take the water glass from him and drink the rest of it down. “Maybe.”

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