Page 117 of Friendzone Hockey
Nothing I’ve said dims the tension between us. “There’s a ‘but’, Stace. I can feel it.”
“But I’m going.” I back away. “We need the money.” I mean for us—him and I, us—but I let him assume I mean me and my brother. I’ll elaborate when we’re together. Because we will be together. I’m going to buy him a house and fill it with all his favorites. First thing I’ll buy is one of those giant reading chairs he found on The Clock app, but we’ll use it to have movie marathons. I tried to buy him one just before the season’s end,but the best ones were five thousand dollars. And then I thought about Casey ruining it with mac and cheese fingers. It’s better if it goes in our own home, I just have to wait out fucking Syd.
He inhales a frustrated breath. “I get that, which is why I wouldn’t want you to give it up. Which is why I’d come with you.”
“How’s Syd gonna feel about that?” That just came out. I swear. As much as I want to be Syd right now, as much as each brick of my restraint has crumbled, if Dash wants a chance at love with him, how can I deny him that?
“Syd’s been in my life for five seconds, Stace.”
“You’re not quitting hockey because of me, Dash. That’s final.”
Dash grits his teeth, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. Am I a bad person for enjoying this? Not the part where I have to tell him that we are separating for the season, but provoking that Dash fierceness I love so much. It took a while to bring that to the surface. He was so timid when we were first getting to know each other. But Dash isn’t a timid person when he’s comfortable around you. Every drop of his fire is a hard-won prize, and I exist for it. It gives me a rush.
I know how to handle him.
“Thought I was an adult who makes his own choices, huh?”
“Still, no, Dash.”
A couple of drink orders pop up on my bar screen. I leave to make them, keeping an eye on him. He doesn’t leave, only checks his phone a few times. When I’m finished with those drinks, I start my end-of-shift bar prep, cutting lemons and limes, restocking the bar fridge, and getting it ready for Dirk, who’s on after me. I wash my hands after I’m done and collect Dash from the bar top.
He’s gone from pouty to devastated.
I get him home and sit us on the porch swing, pulling his shoes off and removing his socks so I can massage his feet. I desperately need a shower after a six-hour shift, but he smells like a restaurant, too, so we’re fine for a minute.
“You’d resent me,” I tell him.
“Never.”
“Tell me what it looks like. You on the road with me.”
“I’d be your dedicated fan. At every game. Ready to give you massages off the ice.”
“When would you get to play hockey, hmm?” He’s quiet. “Remember when you told me how powerful it makes you feel? Has that stopped being true?”
“No.” He sighs. “I see where you’re going with this. Okay, it’s not gonna work, but I’m all hollow inside. You’re not gone, you’re right here, and I’m already missing you.”
I press my thumb into the sole of his foot, a relief-filled groan falls from those pouty lips of his.
“I feel the same way, sweetheart.”
“You were right about something else, too. We should never have spent as much time together as we do. It’s gonna ache so bad.”
I have nothing good to tell him. It will. It’s going to feel like someone’s tearing the skin from my body. Daily. “We’ll video chat every day. Not the same, I know, but I’ll be constant chatter in your ear, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And tell Syd,” I advise him. “Tell him what you need, Dash.”
“Ugh. I knew you might say that, but what if he doesn’t like what I need?”
“Then he doesn’t deserve to lick your smelly after-work feet.” I tickle them. It’s cheating, but I want a bit of that laughter I love. The laughter without restraint.
He kicks his feet, a big laugh breaking free.Alderchuck scores.
“I know,” he says, finally fucking smiling. “But that’s easy to say. The rejection is hard to swallow without thinking I’m the one with the problem.”
“If you’re willing to try, I’m right here for any aftermath.”
