Page 74 of Friendzone Hockey
He nods. “Deal.” Travis is quiet after that. Don’t think he expected Dash to agree so easily. Neither did I. In a hundred years, I’d never have guessed that, considering how hard he’s been fighting the counselor thing.
“You ready, Alderchuck? I’m fucking hungry. I hope Casey ordered pizza.”
“What are you up to, Dash Nolan?” I say once we’re in the car.
“Not a thing.”
“Bullshit.”
“One of the bartenders wants to fuck me.” He licks his lips. The little brat’s thinking about it.
My hands curl around the steering wheel. The knuckles turn white. “Your dad said?—”
“My dad’s been fine with whatever so long as I see a counselor of some kind. He said that to me before I left for the season, but I refused then, too. If I’m seeing a counselor, he’ll be fine with it. One hour a week seems like a good bargain for that kind of freedom, don’t you think?”
“I do, which begs the question, why didn’t you do it in the first place?”
“Wasn’t ready then. Thanks to you, I can take this next step.”
Yeah, he seems real thankful. “What about the feelings you said you had for me?”
He shrugs. “I wanted to be with you for the wrong reasons. I have to find a way to accept that my feelings for you didn’t really exist.”
Can’t say that doesn’t sting, even if it’s for the best. “And suddenly you can trust a random bartender?”
“He’s not random. It’s Tony. Tony’s been working for my dad for at least three years. I know him, but more importantly, Dad knows him.”
And Dash doesn’t know his dad if he thinks that’s gonna be okay.
“Five bucks says Tony’s fired if Travis catches wind of this.”
“The only way he’d find out is if you told him.”
“I’m not gonna tell him this but, believe me, he will shoot the messenger.” Travis might save tired honeybees, but he will cut Tony’s nuts off without a fuck to give for touching his boy. Judging by Travis’s reaction tonight, he’s not ready.
“Guess we’ll see.”
“Five bucks,” I insist.
“You’re on.” We shake on it.
Four nights later, I’m in the kitchen of our shared home in Kitsilano, loading the dishwasher. Dash storms in and slams five dollars on the counter. I don’t mean to smirk, but I’m definitely smirking.
I hold my hands up. “I didn’t tell him, I swear.”
“He caught us flirting in the back near the lockers. Why are you laughing? Stop it.”
I can’t. “Nothing says ‘discreet’ like right in front of your dad’s office.”
“I thought he went up to the apartment!”
“Is Tony still alive?” I say in between hysterical laughter.
Dash slumps onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Barely. It was so embarrassing. Dad was out the door so fast. Tony might have a black eye.” He lays his head on the counter. “Ugh, what do I do, Stace?”
I rejoice quietly about overprotective dads and shrug.
“Why won’t you help me? What was wrong with Tony?”
