Page 35 of Friendzone Hockey
I nod. “Mom and I were fans. She had this made for me one year. It’s not an original or anything, but?—”
Tears zig-zag down his face like fucking Plinko chips. Oh shit.Shit.Dirk’s gonna kick my fucking ass, and I’ll let him.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. I thought you might like to have it. I know it’s not gonna replace your mom’s, but it’s warm and you said you get cold at night.” Even though it’s hot outside with it being the summer, the insulation in this house sucks, and that makes it cold on the inside in the mornings and at night. In the middle of the day, it’s a sauna.
He pushes at my chest. “I’m not crying because ofthat, Stace. I’m crying because you’re so lucky to have a memento like this. I can’t accept this. No way.”
In that case.
“Nuh-uh. You can too accept it. I said so, the end. May I?” I hold out my hand for the shirt. I tug it over his head, and he slides his arms inside. Then he hugs himself, which is so very him. So many self-soothing gestures. Didn’t anybody hug him, or is that because he misses the hugs he got?
Wide doe eyes appraise me. “It smells like you.”
“I can wash?—”
“No. Nope. I like it as is. Thank you. I still don’t think I should have something this special.”
He should have everything special. “It’s not like you don’t live here. How about you think of it as a loan? You can add it to your growing collection.”
In the few weeks he’s lived here, he’s added a couple pairs of my socks and a few T-shirts of mine to his closet in addition to the original T-shirt he’s never returned.
His cheeks pinken, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I accept this sweatshirt as a long-term loan. It’s cozy as hell. Your mom knew how to buy a sweatshirt.”
I’m growing out of it, but it’s big on him. He’s lost in that thing. “Uh, okay. Enjoy.”
Enjoy? Dammit, I sound like a moron.
“Wait. Why don’t you come in? You can tell me a story about your mom while I get ready for work, and I’ll tell you one about mine.”
I’m invited into his room, and he wants to tell me about his mom? I step inside without thinking and make myself at home in his large bean bag chair.
Casey finally steals his hat back, the one I’ve been wearing for days. He replaces it with the one he’s been wearing for days. I don’t know when we started doing that, just that he started it when we were kids.
“Want your own hat for a change, bro?” I ask.
“No, I want a turn with Dash’s hat. They’ve lived here long enough, they must share. House rules. Go find Dirk’s and wear it for a bit so he knows. He hid it from me.”
Yeah, don’t think I’m ready to take Dirk’s yet. We have a weird, unspoken beef. But wait a tick. I’m hung up on something.
“That’s not Dash’s hat.”
“It’s totally Dash’s hat. It doesn’t even have the Wildcats logo, bro. You really didn’t notice?”
I … I didn’t. I’ve been distracted by a certain someone. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
Casey shrugs. “I dunno. He probably thought you wanted to wear it.”
Casey struts off in nothing but a pair of shorts and Dash’s hat. I remain dumbfounded. Did I wear Dash’s hat for three damn days without noticing? Without him saying a word? Fuck, Casey’s right. There’s no logo on that hat. It’s plain white. And speaking of white, Dash appears from his bedroom in nothing but that white sweatshirt I gave him.
That might have been a mistake. Seeing him in something mine’s done something to me. Made something stir in my chest and my nether region.Dammit.I fucked up. Again. It’s a long list of never-ending fuck ups with Dash.
There’s gonna be changes around here, starting with a “more clothing around the house” rule.
He sits at the kitchen island, hair disheveled, pretty lashes blinking away, face still compressed with lines from his pillow. I can’t look away, but I need to look away or my stupid hormones are going to convince my dick to think things it can’t.
I will not think with my penis brain.Not about Dash. He’s been through hell. I promised his dad I’d help him, not sink my cock into him.
“What happened to pants? Ever heard of pants?”
