Page 46 of Friendzone Hockey
No, not just my libido. My sudden and inappropriate lust for Stacey.
“So, we had some big changes, and I just wanted to check in,” he says, dropping into mentor mode.
What the fuck? He’s going back to that? He hasn’t been that for a long time with me. It’s what kept us apart in the first place. It’s why I hated him as much as I loved him for a bit.
Seriously, fuck the mentor bullshit.
Kinda fuck him too, for doing it.
“You don’t need to go there. Everything’s fine.” And I pass as believable. Because right now, I want fuck all to do with Stacey and his Dash-centric altruism.
He flinches. “Okay, because I thought there might have been something earlier.”
“Nope.” I cross my arms.
“You’re mad.”
I shrug. “Nope.”
“Dash.” He runs his fingers through his hair. That sun-spun hair I wanna bury my nose into and?—
No.
I take a breath.
“Okay, so I’m processing what you said, happy? Can I have some space to do that without you trying to therapize me?”
“That’s not a word, Dash.”
“Is now.”
His lips—the swollen, begging to be kissed ones—draw into a firm line, telling me he’s getting fed up with me. That’s not fucking fair. I’m the one fed up with him. He stands taller, crossing his arms, becoming the immovable thing I’ve always loved molding against.
My heart beats faster. Blood rushes. Air catches in my throat.
We’re in a weird standoff I don’t know how to get out of.
Dirk bursts into the office. “Problem solved for you, Dashie. Hunter said you could stay with him for a few … days.”
He trails off at the sight of an agitated Stacey. If you want to make Stacey even more agitated, you mention Hunter. If you want to seriously piss him off, you mention my name in a sentence with Hunter’s. Everyone from here to the moon knows that.
“Hunter’s place?” Stacey says. The question isn’t for me.
“Hey, Stace. Didn’t see you come in here,” Dirk says.
Yeah, he fucking did, but he didn’t expect Stacey to already be pissed. All my friends are meddling meddlers who meddle. That’s fine, though. Stacey and I will fight. I want a fight. In fact, I wish we were on the damn ice, so I’d have an excuse to pound on him a little.
Stacey turns to me. “You’re not staying with Hunter.”
A bolt of electricity shoots through me, waking up my dick. Stacey’s usually a lot gentler with his instructions. Not always, but usually. I’ve forever wished he would be more demanding like he is right now. In the past, I’d never dream of poking the bear on purpose—that’s usually Casey and Jack’s MO—but right now, I want more ofthisStacey.
“Huh. Last I checked, you’re not my dad, and I’m an adult. Guess I can do whatever the fuck I want. Tell your brother I just need to grab some things from the house, Dirk.”
Dirk smiles from behind Stacey. “Okay.” He promptly leaves after that stirring of shit, shutting the door hard.
Stacey’s on me so damn fast, pinning me to the old wooden desk, a hand on either side of my hips, breathing heavily into my space. The scent of his sweat and cologne permeates the air, mixing into a deadly combination of desire. My lungs rise and fall rapidly.
“No,” he says.
