Page 2 of Defensive Zone

“Of course. Sorry. I should’ve known.” She tries to give him a nonchalant smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She walks off, and Carter turns to me, none the wiser.

He rolls his eyes adoringly, clearly unaware that once again, our friendship has inadvertently cockblocked him. Does he not realize some people think we’re secretly dating because he always puts me before getting laid?

Not that I’m complaining. I’m happy being the center of Carter’s world alongside football, but I just hope that he knows what he’s doing. Or if he doesn’t, that he at least doesn’t hold it against me when realization hits him.

I want him to be happy, most of all, and if that means being with someone such as Paisley, I won’t stand in his way.

“You could have gone with her if you wanted.” The words are like acid on my tongue, but I swallow it down.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and knocks our cups together, the movement causing beer to spill onto his fingers. “And leave you? I don’t think so. Like I said to Paisley, we’ve called in the new year together for fourteen years. I’m not going to stop that now.”

We haven’t spent a single holiday away from each other during that time, but it’s soon going to come to an end after graduation, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“What’s going to happen when we make it to the pros? We might end up in different cities.”

Carter’s about to open his mouth to answer when the front door swings open, letting in a blast of cold air—which is appreciated because damn, I didn’t realize how hot it’s gotten in here—followed by the raucous roar of more people piling into the house.

“Here comes the wave,” I murmur under my breath, watching what seems like never-ending people filtering in.

There are too many people.

I wiggle my fingers as they start to tingle, and it’s the telltale sign it’s time to make my escape, host rules be damned. I cast a glance at Carter, and without a word, he jerks his head toward the stairs, instantly reading my thoughts. He grabs hold of my wrist as we weave through the groups of people, and I follow him up the stairs. I’m thankful that my roommates declared the upper floors off limits, so by the time we reach the third floor where both our rooms are, it’s quieter. Just the dull thump of bass and the sound of my breathing.

We make it to my room and close the door behind us. Carter sighs, running a hand through his dark hair as he falls back onto my bed, his arms slumping beside him.

“This was such a fucking bad idea. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, glancing up at me with his face full of sorrow.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to it.”

He lifts his head, one eyebrow arched. “Yeah, which was a surprise, by the way.”

“I said yes because I knew you wanted to do it.” I shrug.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that? You don’t have to be uncomfortable just to make me happy, because it doesn’t make me happy knowing you’re uncomfortable.” Carter rolls his eyes, but there’s no annoyance there as his lips tip up in a slow smile. Shifting on the bed, he rests his head against my pillow, then opens up his arms. “Don’t just stand there, bring it in.”

Smiling, I kick off my shoes, and he does the same, his shoes landing on the floor with a thunk. The mattress springs groan under my weight as I press a knee onto the bed. We’re both big guys, and this bed can barely support us. Slotting my shoulder against his rib cage, I rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me, and we just lie there in contented silence as we listen to the sounds of the party.

Some might find it weird that two guys in a platonic friendship are so affectionate to one another, but we’ve been this way since we were six. I was out front playing hockey, my goal situated in front of the fence, when an SUV and U-Haul van pulled up in front of the house next door. The moment he climbed out the back of the car, he spotted me. His face lit up, and he ran over, a football in his hands. He demanded I play with him and told me hockey wasn’t as fun as football, but he would play with me as long as I played football with him afterward. One look at his goofy grin, and I was sucked in.

Warmth spread through my chest. Something akin to pure happiness as he told me right there and then, “You’re my best friend now. No backsies!”

I wasn’t a very social child. The kids at school would make small talk because of my older brother, Brody, or my dad, whowas an NHL superstar at the time, but they didn’t want to bemyfriends. So, I preferred my own company. It was safer that way. And when I wasn’t playing hockey, I would be sitting in my room, reading comics and playing video games.

The day the Lockwoods moved in was the first day someone chosemeas their friend.

Since then, we have done everything together. We went to the same schools and spent every night together. Weekends and vacations, we were inseparable. We even made sure we got into the same college because we didn’t want to be apart.

I don’t want to think about what it will be like when we graduate and head to different cities. Neither of us is naïve enough to think we’ll end up playing our respective sports in the same place because life doesn’t work like that, but I hope the distance won’t destroy our friendship.

“Do you ever think about what life will be like when we head to the pros?” I ask, giving light to the thought running through my mind.

“Sometimes,” he answers, his deep rumble vibrating against my ear. “Wherever we end up, we’ve got to promise to always hang out whenever we’re in the same city. To spend our off-seasons together. We need to go on at least one vacation together a year. We’ve gotta talk every day, even if it’s on FaceTime while we heat up our pre-made meals. No matter what,wecome first. We make each other our priority.”

I have no doubt I will. Carter has been my priority for most of my life, but there is this inkling of doubt that when I’m not around, the distance will become more than just geographical. When he inevitably meets someone because I’ll no longer be a cockblock.

“We’ve still got time to watchReturn of the Jedi,” he suggests with a tilt of his head, looking down at me. “Maybe we can stick to tradition after all?”

My insides light up.

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