Page 101 of Friendzone Hockey
“I am the goat, motherfucker,” Casey says, bleating like a goat for good measure.
Dirk downs half his beer. “Yeah, that tracks.”
“Yep, I’m gonna marry him,” Jack confirms, stuffing his mouth with the last of his hot dog, making his cheeks puff. Hegets down on one knee, taking Casey’s hand in his greasy one. “But I think we should make it official. Will you be my backup, bud?”
“Yeah, for sure, bud.”
Most Canadian proposal ever.
Jack and Casey erupt with exaggerated glee, meeting in a lover’s hug, jumping up and down, beer spilling over the sand. They kiss on it, making out crudely.
“Okay, we get it,” I say.
“No one told me we were picking back ups,” Dash snaps, leaning forward as if he’s about to attack someone. I trap him with my arms, pulling him back to me.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I say into his ear.
“Well,” he shrills. “I feel left out. Dirk, do you have a back up?”
He takes another long swig of his beer. “I have someone in mind.”
“What the fuck? Who?”
He shrugs. “Not telling.”
“Who are you even friends with besides us?”
Dirk rolls his eyes. “No one.”
“Then it has to be a Benduovr hookup. C’mon, spill, Boulder.”
“You four fuckers are the last people on earth who’re gonna know.”
“But—”
“I regret saying anything. Look, there’s only one man I’d even consider marrying, but it’s never gonna happen, and I don’t want to fucking talk about it. Capiche?”
“Fine. Capiche.” Dash’s brown fire-filled eyes snap to me. “You’d better not fucking have one, Alderchuck,” he threatens.
My heart almost lunges out of my throat. I’ve never seen him like this about anything. He was less murderous about the thingshe told me about Robin. So, yeah. I don’t know what possesses me. Can I blame the beer? I’ve had quite a few over the course of the day. He has, too. It buzzes in my head, thick and foggy, lending me the confidence of a charging bull.
“I do,” I answer with every intention of antagonizing him further. Just a little. I wanna see that fierceness in his eyes for as long as I can. I want to see him burning for me.
I don’t know what I expect him to do. Hauling off with a fist flying toward my face, isn’t it. My reflexes haven’t been severely affected by the alcohol yet. I catch him by the wrist. He shakes loose, bolting up, standing over me. My stomach flip-flops.
“You do not. Whoever it is can kick rocks. Tell me who it is.”
“What if I said it was you?”
“You ass?—”
“Dash Nolan, will you be my back up? Ooaf!”
He shoves me and freezes. There’s a long cold second. Did I misread that situation? Maybe he was only mad that everyone had one but him?
“Terms,” he says, plopping down in the sand in front of me, inserting himself backward between my legs. He leans against my chest, looking up. My heart takes a second to calm the fuck down. “When are we throwing in the towel on love?”
Is that what he’d be doing? I’d marry him right now if … dammit.Baby steps, Alderchuck.
