Page 107 of Friendzone Hockey
“You might be right.” He sighs. “I guess I won’t complain, but I wish he’d do something other than video games. After that I’ve got plans, though.”
“Plans?”
“Yeah, uh, remember Syd?”
Unfortunately.
“He’s taking me for dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to Coach Meyer’s team menu—which is gonna suck—but yeah. That’s what I’m doing. Raincheck?”
My stomach falls out of my body. I thought, fuck. What did I think? That he should turn his dating life on and off for me? That would be a real dick thing to expect.
I don’t see him offering to cancel or pause plans like he did with Dirk, either. Clearly, he wants to go.
“Of course, raincheck,” I say, doing my best to keep all the heartbreak out of my voice.
I’m adjusting my, no wait, Dash’s hat, raising it, repositioning it on my head. A familiar sensation prickles the back of my neck. I look up, catching Dash’s pretty doe eyes gazing at me as he attempts tree pose. He smiles in a way that’s subconscious. Automatic. Like his insides are smiling too.
Like my insides smile.
He falls over.
And flushes.
Damn he’s pretty when he flushes.
The best part about a practice that turns our bones into liquid? Dash falling asleep on top of me. I went to bed alone, out before my head hit the pillow, roused later by something moving on my chest—sleeping Dash. He musta crawled in with me. Now that he’s here, I can’t stop looking at him. Pouty lips closed, breathing sweetly, soft hair fluffed over his eyes. I push it back and plant a kiss on his forehead.
Casey barges in. I glare. “Sorry,” he whispers. “But we need you out here. Jack lost his hat again. He’s losing his mind.”
Jack and that hat, I swear.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
He disappears, leaving the door slightly ajar. I begin the process of extracting myself from Dash without waking him. His hands tighten into my T-shirt. I halt, lying back down.
“Dash? Dashie?” No answer, so I try again.
His hands tighten a little more forcefully this time.
“Dash?”
Nothing. Is he doing that in his sleep? Or is he refusing to let me go? I raise a brow at his sleeping form. To test him, I move, keeping my eyes on him this time. He’s faster this time, suggesting it’s not reflexes.
“Dash?” I use my stern voice.
“His hat’s in the secret-not-so-secret junk food cupboard next to the Cheetos.” His eyes remain closed.
“Do I even wanna know how it ended up there?”
“Probably not.”
“Am I allowed to get up and tell him?”
“Absolutely fucking not. You’re my prisoner, Alderchuck. Go back to sleep.” He rubs his face into my chest, and I get those tingles again, the ones I only get when Dash touches me. He clings to me tighter, trapping me under a leg just in case I get any ideas.
Well then, my keeper has spoken. I close my eyes. Those fuckers are on their own, and the world can crumble for all I care. I’m not going anywhere.
Dash can’t think everything I’m doing is friendly, can he? We’re always cuddly, I always find ways to do things for him, we’re always together, but none of it means anything unless he feels themoreunderlining those actions. But he can feel me, that means he should feel things have changed, right?
