Page 10 of Friendzone Hockey
I act on instinct, slotting myself beside him. It’s a huge fucking risk with how everything’s gone down, not to mention Dash’s every signal says to stay far away from him. But I’m acting on something else.
A murmur in the world that speaks from him to me.
Yanking him to me, I surround him like I want to.
His fingers snare my shirt, digging deep, latching on for dear life. They dig through the material and straight into my flesh. I’llhave bruises later, prints of him, but I don’t mind. I don’t hear a sound from Dash, but I feel wetness seeping through cotton, melting into my skin like water into salt—Dash melting into me.
Travis mouths a thank you to me and has to drag a scowling Dirk from the room. There’s a click of the door shutting quietly, and then no sounds for a long time. Just the rise and fall of Dash’s ribcage as he cries.
I don’t do anything but hold him until he pulls back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Sorry.”
“Nu-uh. We’re not gonna do that,” I say.
He freezes. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re an odd mix of teddy bear and overbearing drill sergeant?”
“My brother, minus the teddy bear part. That one’s new.” I’m the furthest thing from a teddy bear, but it’s possible—maybe—that I’m being soft with Dash.
Dash takes a slow breath. “So how does this work? Do I have to bear my soul to you immediately?”
“No.”
“He’ll want me to.”
“This is between me and you. We’ll go at the right pace. I’ll make sure.”
Dash freezes again. As if I’ve said something important. Something pivotal. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
“But—”
“Here it is.”
“I’m going to prod you a little. You’re not obligated to answer when I do. Just tell me you’re not ready if you’re not, okay?”
He nods.
“And I need something from you.”
“What?”
“One hundred percent honesty, which is not the same as the truth.”
“What does that even mean?” He groans. “Maybe I shoulda picked therapist.”
“You still can. You can at any time if this isn’t working for you. No hard feelings.”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t know what this says about me, but as torturous as I know it’s gonna be, I want it. I want you.”
There’s an ache in my chest, a tug, a binding.
It’s not until later, days later, that it occurs to me that he was in my arms, and it was the most natural thing in the world.
Dash climbs onto one of the tall bar stools, taking a seat. He’s not working today, but I am. It’s the midpoint of the day, the lull, and there isn’t much to do. I’m wiping down the copper bar top for the sixteenth time today. This thing gets sticky, and with the traffic it sees, I’m sure there are undiscovered species of bacteria roaming around on it, trying to find a home.
“Can I see some ID?” I ask him. My lips fight to tug into a smile. It’s like that whenever he walks into a fucking room and that’s a problem. I limit the number of times I let myself. I’m Dash’s mentor now, I don’t want to give the wrong impression.
