Page 81 of These Wicked Games
“No.” That’s honestly the scariest part, but if anyone has an issue with this, I am currently in the give no fucks stage. Where I put my dick does not affect my game or anyone else’s life. I have nearly a decade of proof to back this up. Homophobes are both useless and dumb, and I’m not about to argue and defend myself to ignorant assholes. Still, I know a shitstorm is most likely headed our way if not already crashing down outside the safety of my home.
Our home.
Coach, fuck, he’s going to kill me.
“I texted Jessica.” Fuck my life. “She’s on the way over. Coach knows I’m here, and I’ll church it up for you a bit, but basically he said he wants both of you down at the rink as soon as Jessica is through with you.”
“She’s going to rip my dick clean off my body,” Andre groans.
“No she won’t. Oli likes it too much.” Atlas laughs, and Grey slaps the back of his head. “Hey! I’m allowed to make jokes seeing as no one here thought I should know! I’m so pissed. Why didn’t you tell me?” Atlas asks.
My eyes go to Grey. I’m not going down alone in this. He must see the question in my eyes because Grey claps Atlas on the back. “I told Oli I’m gay.”
“What?” Atlas shakes his head. “When the fuck was this? Do you guys hang out without me?!” He folds his arms over his broad chest. “You guys better not hang out without me! Andre, Andre.”Andre blinks at my friend. “New bestie. Do you have plans next weekend? I am suddenly free and friendless.”
Grey’s eyes lift to the ceiling. “I told Oli only because I saw him with Andre and I really thought he was about to stroke out. So I told him.”
“So basically we don’t want to tell me shit, huh?” Atlas shrieks. He scrubs his face and peeks up at me, shaking his head. “I can’t believe neither of you told me this was happening. No wonder you’ve been ditching our traditions now.”
“Traditions?” Andre asks.
“After away games, and after drinks with the guys, the three of us usually find some dive to have drinks in,” Grey says. “Or we used to. Oli’s been a little absent the last few games.”
“We could have gone,” Andre says to me. “You shouldn’t ditch them just because of me.”
“Your new boyfriend is smart, Oli. Listen to him,” Atlas says, and my attention snags on the word boyfriend. It sounds so juvenile to me. I’m not even sure what’s going on with us. Andre’s just . . . mine.
What I want to say is that I don’t owe anyone anything, but these are my friends. As a team we are close, but what I have with Grey and Atlas goes beyond friendship. They’re my brothers. “I’m sorry. I’m still learning what this all means.” Atlas takes a look at Andre, and I realize now how quiet he’s been. Sitting down, I grab his hand in mine. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He laughs bitterly. “What’s wrong? I fucking outed you to the goddamn world.”
“Eh, technicality. That photographer did. They stalked you,” Grey adds.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you outside. I wasn’t thinking. I should have checked the gate, I just—”
“Hey.” I stop him from spiraling, demanding his attention. “What happened is not your fault. I don’t know what’s going to happen but—”
“Oh good, both of you are here. I don’t have to go to Andre’s to smack the absolute shit out of him! Two for one.” Jessica stomps into my living room, her white slipper boots thundering across my kitchen floor. Her normally perfectly styled hair is tossed into a messy bun. She looks . . . disheveled. She takes note of Atlas and Grey, shaking her head. “Boys,” she greets them. We all stare at her. I mean, what the fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything but a pantsuit or pencil skirt. “What?!” she snaps.
“Cute PJs.” Atlas grins.
If looks could kill, we’d all be obliterated. She puts a hand on her hip, right on the pink silk PJs with little candy hearts all over them. “I’ve been calling you since six in the fucking morning. This is my day off!”
“I’m sorry, we slept in.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad you got your beauty sleep, Oli.” Her lips pinch and I’m afraid to move, or breathe. “What, and I say this with love, THE FUCK!”
Grey stands, holding up his hands. “You can’t be mad at them because they’re queer, that’s not—”
“What the fuck do I look like to you?”Oh, she is so mad. She closes her eyes, holding out her hands and taking a deep breath. “Let me start this again.” She pulls out my bar stool, hopping up onto it. She puts her bag on my counter, then pulls her giant fluffy pink sweater down. “Someone get me coffee. Now!” We all getup—move—and instantly organization gets the best of us as we bump into each other. “Stop!” she shouts.
We all freeze.
“Reggie isn’t this mean,” Atlas whispers.
“That’s because Reggie is soft!” She glares. “There’s a reason why my athletes get paid twenty to thirty percent more.” Okay yeah, she is right. Jessica’s a hard-ass, but fuck I love her. She doesn’t take no for an answer and always has my best interests at heart. We aren’t dollar signs to her, we’re people. “Oli, get me an iced coffee. Grey, go grab a laptop. Andre, sweetheart—”
“Why does he get a sweetheart?” Atlas pouts.
