Page 34 of Breakaway Goals
Sitting in a dark booth and glowering as Hayes talked up the whole fucking joint, charming teammates and random Canadians alike.
He was wearing this long-sleeved dark green henley and it clung to all his slim muscles and brought out the color of his eyes. Then the jeans that fit him like a glove, calling attention to how delicious his ass and thighs were. Reminding Morgan that he’dneverreally given a shit about a guy’s ass and thighs before but now couldn’t get over this particular set.
It was unfair. Life was unfair.
Morgan debated standing up and going over to the bar, where Hayes was seemingly holding court, and charming him right back.
He could do it.
Probably nobody would bat an eye—except Danny, of course, and Morgan was beginning to think he didn’t really count.
“You’re sitting over here and frowning. Monty ditch you already?”
Speak of the fucking devil.
Morgan shot Danny a half-hearted glare. “No.”
“Sure seems like it from where I’m standing,” Danny said, shifting his gaze from Morgan to where Hayes was leaning against the bar, yet another random Canadian guy flirting with him like the world was ending tomorrow.
Random guy put a hand on Hayes’ forearm and squeezed, all friendly chatter, and Morgan wanted to remove his whole arm from its socket.
It was not normal. Morgan was at least aware of that. But that only made it weirder. He never got jealous. Envy was not an emotion he was used to feeling.
But that had to be what this sensation was, like worms crawling around in his stomach.
“Come on,” Danny coaxed. “Come over to the bar with me. I promise if you were there, Monty wouldn’t be flirting with randoms. He’d be flirting with you.”
“You don’t know that,” Morgan said. But he wanted it to be true, so badly it made him squirm.
“Yeah, I kinda do,” Danny said impatiently.
How had he gone from the state of finding Hayes annoying and like a prickly pointed reminder of his fading opportunities to Hayes being the most appealing person he could remember meeting?
You actually got to know him. You talked to him. You figured out that you and him? You’re the same underneath.
That seemed to be the biggest issue. Before this tournament, Hayes had been a generic outline, another guy taken first overall,who everyone had universally decided was going to be great, as great as Morgan, or maybe even greater.
Up until this point, Morgan had resisted actually having a real conversation with the guy. What good would that serve, he’d always imagined, if he’d thought about it at all. But now he couldn’t unwind the clock.
Couldn’t pretend that he and Hayes hadn’t made a connection.
Morgan finished his beer. He could go over to the bar. Get another one.
“Don’t be stupid about this,” Danny lectured.
Morgan shot him a look. It did not escape him how painful it was that Matthew Daniels was lecturing him on stupidity.
“You’d know,” Morgan said, grinding his molars together.
“If I was him, I’d think the sex was bad, if you’re over here and not eventryingto stop that guy from touching me,” Danny said.
And yep, then there was the sexual tension.
He’d hoped, maybe a little stupidly, that the sex would have dispensed with that. It often did, in Morgan’s experience, but then he also had never hooked up with someone and then wanted tostayafter, either. He hadn’t done it last night, but he’dthoughtabout it, and that was the scariest part of all.
If Hayes had asked, he’d probably have said yes, and then where would he have ended up?
Maybe the end result of all this was Hayes holding his dick like a leash, but how was that any different than what Morgan was doing now, staring daggers at a guy who kept daring to touch Hayes’ arm?
