Page 45 of Friendzone Hockey
Stacey’s brown-eyed gaze falls on me. He knows before I say a word. His deep voice sinks into my soul. “Where do you want me? On the line? Or on the floor?”
The first thought that pops into my head is so not the thing I should be thinking about, but I know he’s gonna roll up those sleeves if he gets on the line. Fuck, though. I also love seeingthe way he interacts with guests, knowing he’s … he’s mine, dammit. Feeling the thread between us like it’s a living breathing thing, confident with the assurance that the unwavering, strong, smoking hot man, spreading his kindness to the guests, will always return to me by the end of the night.
But it’s my final thought that makes the decision for me.
The summer twins areoutthere.
“On the line.” Did I just make a personal decision when I should have made a restaurant decision? Oops. Do I give a flying fuck? No. I should be fired immediately, but thank you nepotism.
“On it.”
Just like I hoped, he begins rolling up his sleeves. I might be drooling. I might be staring too long. My heart’s beating in time with my dick.
“Nolan!” Dirk yells. “We’re almost eighty-six filets.”
“Got it.” I barrel toward fridges for more filets. Looks like we’ll both be rolling up our sleeves and getting stuck in the kitchen together.
We survive another rush—because, yeah, there’s always a good hour where you feel like you’ll die—and I make it back onto the floor. My servers have a million problems for me to solve, but I knock them off one by one, renewed confidence fueling me. Is it a coincidence that this burst of confidence comes at the same time Stacey showed up? Yes. Total coincidence.
“Um, Dash. Can I see you for a sec?” Stacey pokes his head out of the kitchen. I’m near the bar.
His voice. A jolt.
Fucking goddamn him.
Things have changed in a big way. A long-forgotten Pandora’s box has opened, and I’ve got to find a way to shut the lid and lock it for good.
I swallow. “Yep. Coming.” My voice is too joyful. It sounds fake. I drag myself to the back, hoping whatever he wants to talk to me about has nothing to do with what he told me. What are the chances?
There’s a sheen of sweat coating my skin by this point. At least I’m disgusting. A total turn-off. That’s gotta help in some way.
Oh my god, Dash. It’s not like he’s thinking about boning you every second of every day.
Wait, does he? No. It’s Stacey. I bet he’s protected me from himself even in his thoughts. Sex and I have never crossed his mind.
Or have they?
Now I wanna know.
Now it’s all I’m gonna think about.
I know what his dick looks like. How big it is. What would it look like if … No. Not going there.
Okay, no more thinking about Stacey’s dick.
In my ass.
That was the last time, I swear.
I follow Stacey to the back where all the cubbies and lockers are. When we carry on further back to Dad’s office, a pit opens in my stomach. Okay, did not sign on for this—being alone in a secluded room with Stacey and his feelings for me.
Dad has the same wooden desk he’s had for all the years he’s owned this restaurant. It’s sturdy, but it’s worn in places.Like the ring where he sets his coffee mug since apparently coasters “aren’t his thing”, and the little slit-sized holes from his “thinking knife”, the one he holds and spins while he makes big decisions. There’s the faint scent of cigars from when he smoked them regularly. Dirk got after him about them and he gave it up, but I suspect he has one when a particular mood hits.
Stacey shuts the door. It closes with finality. I try to figure out what to do with my hands, eventually settling on shoving them into my pockets. It doesn’t help that Stacey’s different to me now. Everything about him’s intensified. I pick up on the gold the sun’s left in his hair with more acuity. He’s bigger—did he put on size in the last two weeks?—and then there are his lips. Just sitting there. Plump. Begging for me to?—
No.
The summer twins come to mind. They’re my saving grace right now. Thinking about them kissing him enrages me. I want to tear their skin off, and that has the fortunate side effect of deflating my libido.
