Page 123 of Friendzone Hockey
Wrong shape. Wrong size. This has to be Casey.
Him knowing the image wasn’t me from such a small patch of skin might be even better than him getting jealous.
Dash
You’re a fucking dick, Case. For the record. This was beyond mean.
Okay, it’s been a while, Casey. I’m going to assume you were actually drunk and you’ve passed out.
I hated everything about this, just so you know. I’m gonna restart my morning. Stace, when you get this, please call?
And if you were wondering, I’m serious about the tattoo.
My face burns. I’m on fire. I feel owned. And he always has, he always will own my ass, but I’ve never felt it like this, like there’s an inferno crawling over my skin, bleeding over my limbs.
Casey’s right. There’s something. Not that it matters. All this has done is put me in an even tighter spot. But I can’t help feeling a sick pleasure, knowing he can’t cry to Syd about this. What’s he gonna say? I thought my best friend hooked up with someone else and it sent me into a jealous fit?
I peck out a message as fast as my fingers will type because Casey might have made this mess, but I’m gonna have to fix it.
Me
Casey got my phone. I’m turning the face ID off so he can’t get in next time. And I’ll punch him in the arm till he cries. I’ll make him let you punch him in the arm when we see you.
I’ll call you after I rip Casey a new asshole. And sweetheart? Yes. Absolutely fucking yes. Anything, anywhere.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
THEN
Stacey
The first thing I do—after kissing a lot of ass the next day via a video call—is get that tattoo, but with my own twist. I have one in honor of Mom, and one for my twin, now I have one for Dash.
I haven’t shown him—I haven’t shown anyone. I’ve been careful to keep it from Casey, too. Dash will be the first one to see it. If he doesn’t get how gone for him I am when he finally sees it, he never will.
Getting the chance to do video calls with our schedule is tough—tougher than I expected. It’s not just being too tired to keep our eyes open, it’s time zones and practices at different times. It’s worse moving into the second part of the season, leading up to Christmas. I can see something I haven’t before, though, and it keeps the dream alive. Dash is possessive as fuck, and after what Casey did, he’s on guard, asking me what I’m up to via text message more often, even outright asking me if I’ve been seeing anyone.
Ninety percent of me feels like shit that he’s become paranoid, but ten percent of me relishes in it. I’m only a man. I need some form of hope. Right now, hope is wrapped in morsels of Dash’s constant text stream.
…If you marry me, you do it knowing exactly how needy I am. Say goodbye to your independence.
“Never needed my independence anyway,” I recite out loud. I said it when we made our pact, it’s still true now. He can have every piece of me.
I’ve got so much confidence that I find a realtor and visit the bank. Casey and I talked about buying a house. Knowing my brother, he’ll be relieved if I do all the work. I’ll build a portfolio of ones we can afford and bring Casey and Dash in on it before I buy.
Dash
I think something’s going on between Bryce Meyer and the Elkington.
Me
The Elkington?
Dash
Fine, Maverick. What kind of a prick names their child after a character in Top Gun?
