Page 49 of On the Edge

He laughs. I actually do like him a little bit, but over my dead body will I ever say those words out loud. I don’t even bother correcting him about the fucking thing, even though Henri and I haven’t done more than kiss, and even that has been very rare. Let him think what he wants.

We make it through the first two periods of the game without any further chitchat beyond Luke asking if I wantanything from the concession stand. When second intermission rolls around, I’ve developed a slight headache from the noise and lights of the arena, and my eyes hurt from the strain of trying to watch both Henri and the puck.

“Do you come to every game?” I ask Luke, who’s got his arms raised above his head as he stretches out his back.

“Nah, I can’t make them all. I play baseball and the schedules don’t always coordinate. But I try to make as many as I can. You should come more often—it’s fun, right?”

“It’s fine,” I hedge. It’s fun, I suppose, but not fun enough for me to come back for every game. This is alot.

“You and Vas hanging out over break?”

“Maybe.” Sighing, because I already know where he’s going with that question, I tack on, “And before you bring up how spending holidays together is something boyfriends would do, let me reiterate that Henri and I are not together. I’m not looking for a boyfriend now or ever.”

Luke snorts. “And you think I was? I didn’t go looking for a boyfriend or a relationship, but Maxy found me anyway. Might as well stop fighting it, buddy.”

“We’re just friends and that is all we’ll ever be.”

“And yet, here you are to support him at a sporting event we both know you don’t like or enjoy.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to be nosy?”

“I missed a few lessons in manners. Just like you,” Luke adds dryly. It startles a laugh out of me, and he grins. Fuck it all, I like this guy. Damn Henri for having cool friends.

I stand up as soon as the game ends, meaning to sprint out of here as fast as my legs will carry me. I feel like I need a bottle of water, a cigarette, and eight hours locked in a dark, quiet room—preferably in that order. Luke unfolds himself lazily and stretches again, smiling down at the ice with agoofy expression I hope never graces my face. He turns to me, slinging a heavy arm over my shoulders. I shrug it off, pushing him away.

“You coming down to the locker rooms?” he asks, completely unperturbed.

“No.”

“Come on. Come say hi—you’ll make Vas’ night.”

I’m all set to refuse again, but apparently Luke works some sort of spell on me because fifteen minutes later I find myself standing at the end of the hallway that leads to the team lockers, unsure how I got here. Arms crossed tight over my chest, I do my best to blend in with the wall behind me and shoot daggers at Luke with my eyes. He ignores me in favor of texting someone on his phone and whistling under his breath.

15

Henri

Luke

There’s a feral alley cat waiting for you in the hallway.

Distracted,I stand half undressed and stare down at my phone in confusion. I am very fond of Luke, but sometimes his jokes go over my head. This is one of those times. Looking up, I wait for Max’s reddish-brown head to pop out of the collar of his shirt.

“Max, are you able to translate this for me?”

I give him the phone, watching as his brow scrunches up and his lips move as he reads.

“Uhm. I got nothing on that one. Come on, let’s get changed, and go out and ask him. He should be waiting for me outside.”

Putting my phone down, I do my best to keep pace with Max, who is prone to dressing unusually fast. Bythe time we are leaving the locker room, I am actually a little out of breath again. There aren’t any messages from Atlas, and I do my best not to be too disappointed by that. He’d said he would try to come to the game, but he hadn’t actually fully committed. Max’s small huff of laughter pulls my eyes away from my phone.

“Feral alley cat,” he says, up-nodding toward the end of the hallway where Luke is waiting. I follow his line of sight and see Atlas standing across from Luke and doing his best to blend into the darkly painted wall behind him. Given his black jacket and dark hair, he is doing quite an admirable job of it. I can’t control the bloom of joy in my chest at the sight of him, or the smile that is birthed because of it.

“Hello, you,” Luke says to Max, pulling him into a hug.

Max melts into it, bag thumping to the ground as he drops it to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Something that feels strangely like jealously burns through me at the sight. I want that. I want that so badly. Swallowing this down, I turn to find Atlas, whom I also want, watching them with the expression of someone suffering from a stomach cramp.

“Hello, Atlas.” I walk up to him, stopping as close as I dare. My fingers brush his, but I don’t try to initiate any further contact. He’ll only push me away.

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