Page 58 of These Wicked Games
“I’m sorry, Dre.” He kisses me again softly, then takes my bottom lip between his teeth. Fuck, I need him. My fingers move back to the buttons of his shirt but he pulls my hands away. “I don’t put out on the first date.”
He lets me go to continue cleaning off the table, and I sit there, stunned, watching this gorgeous man clean up the shattered ceramic and food on the floor.
What an evil bastard.
seventeen
Andre
“Hey, Oli—” I watch him throw his practice jersey down then walk right past me not saying a word. Okay . . . I thought after our tentative truce he wouldn’t still be like this. “What’s his problem?” Grey looks up then in the direction Kuli stormed off. It’s not like I’m expecting fuzzy fucking feelings, but I would have thought by now the glacier chill Oli seems to give me would have thawed a little. We’d had a moment! Or did we?
I thought we were past this.
After he told me about the cups, I thought about contacting my father. It’s so hard not to scream my truth in Oli’s face. I want to tell him everything. It’ll crush him, though. My father is a son of a bitch, but even I can admit his story and rise to greatness is inspiring. He came from nothing, trained himself, and became one of the greats. Oli has always looked up to him.
Too bad he’s a real piece of shit.
Oli doesn’t need to know that, but I do need to find out what happened that day.
“Oh, uh . . .” Grey looks up at Atlas. The three of them are closer than some family members. Even on my old team it was never like this. I had friends, sort of, but there was always this shadow around me. People were afraid to get too close. Tripp is intimidating, which makes me seem intimidating. But I’m not. I’m just lonely. “Today is the day Oli’s mom passed.”
“He always gets like this,” Atlas says. “Best to let him be.”
I wait, watching the doorway for Oli to return from the showers. I’m used to brutal and vicious Oli. I am not used to quiet, withdrawn Oli. I think back to our “date” the other night—the way Oli reacted, the dishes on the floor—and everything starts to make sense.
Oli hated what I did, or thought I did, and at the heart of his devastation was his mother. She never got to live the life Oli wanted for her. I know that woman gave him so much, and I know it kills him not be able to give it back.
I’m not going to sit back and let him sulk today. That just won’t do.
Getting dressed, I slip on a black hoodie and sweats, waiting for Oli to emerge from the showers. Most everyone else has left by now, leaving me, a couple of other guys, and Grey. The hype of winning a home game is ebbing, sort of. We won five to four. The game itself was intense, and despite being so distracted, Oli played a vicious game. He got put in the penalty box twice, and when he was on the ice he was taking everyone down with him. He shot twoof the five goals himself. The defense was tight, and I barely got any company inside the blue. It was great.
Another plus . . . my father wasn’t here tonight. Or at least I didn’t see him. It should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I feel like I need eyes in the back of my head.
Oli eventually comes out of the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist, and goes to his locker. When he loses the towel, my eyes dip. I mean, I’m only human.
Hellooohockey butt.
Looking at Oli’s perfectly sculpted ass . . . well, yeah, I wouldn’t mind a shot at that. I want to bite it. Taste him. Make him moan with just my tongue. A bead of water runs down the lines of his abs, down into that happy trail I want to be buried against.
A throat clears next to me.
My gaze whips to Grey’s, his dark eyes hard on me. “What?”
He just shakes his head, a slight smirk on his face. Fuck, I have to be more careful. I’m getting far too comfortable. “Oli,” he says, and I wait for him to snitch on me. Instead he says, “You want to ride with me?”
Oli looks to us, a little dazed, his eyes clouded. “Oh uh, no. Thanks.”
Grey just nods before giving me another look and leaving the locker room. While a couple of other guys busy themselves, I walk over to Oli as he slips on a pair of navy sweats and a white hoodie. “Hey.” I lean against the lockers, looking at him. His gaze is fixed forward. “Can I take you home?”
“No,” is all he says, and honestly, he should know me better by now.
“Oh, silly me, I wasn’t giving you a choice. I’m sorry I worded it as a question.”
“I’m not in the mood for whatever the fuck this is right now.”
He packs his duffel bag but I won’t be deterred. “Oli—”
“Andre, please. Not right now.”
