Page 29 of Fresh Ice
“There are so many memes about Gabby and Young, it’s not even funny.” Levy laughed.
“How the hell do you even find those? Please tell me you’re not reading social media stuff about our team.”
“Nah, no way. My little sister sends me the good ones.”
A spark of warmth lit Alonso up at the thought of Levy’s sister, Kirsten. They talked pretty regularly after games, and she was pretty damn great. She’d tease Levy mercilessly, getting him squawking and huffing in no time.
It was fun to watch, and it made him feel like he was in on a joke—part of the family.
“Oh, fuck, let me show you this Karen video.” Levy grinned almost manically.
“Who the fuck is Karen?”
Levy froze, turning towards him slowly. “You’re joking, right?”
“No?”
They stared at each other until Alonso cracked and started laughing.
“Oh my God, your face.” Alonso snorted.
“In my defence, not knowing anything about the Internet would totally be something you would do,” Levy grumbled.
“I don’t live under a rock.”
“Maybe not a rock, but a puck…”
Alonso groaned. “That was so bad.”
“Dad-joke champion right here.” Levy flexed and kissed his biceps.
Alonso shoved him hard, and it devolved rapidly into a kicking fight that had Alonso clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath from laughter.
Levy was bright-eyed and smiling and beautiful, and Alonso was so fucked.
CHAPTER SIX
Alonso became obsessed with the idea of sleeping with Levy.
He had no idea how it would happen or what it would look like, like flickering lights at the edge of his vision that disappeared when he glanced right at them. When he wasn’t overthinking, though—when he just let his mind wander where it wanted, the warmth would spark his senses.
Alonso tried to keep himself from anything that distracted him from hockey, but he was only human.
Sometimes, he just wanted to be touched.
It was tempting to wait until they were both drunk and see if he could push something into happening, but Alonso knew that was fucked up. If Levy agreed to it, Alonso had to know he actually wanted it.
It couldn’t be out of pity or impaired judgment.
There was something incredibly pleasing about the fact that Levy would mostly follow Alonso around when they were away from the rink. It satisfied something hurt and insecure inside Alonso to know that Levy could choose any of his teammates to hang out with but spent his days with him instead.
They were both in a good mood after a win the previous night against the Toronto Arrowheads. Levy had convinced Alonso to go to the supermarket together even though they mostly ate at the rink or had separate snacks.
Alonso eyed the meat Levy was holding up. “If you buy that, it’ll just go bad,” he pointed out.
“I’ll make something with it,” Levy insisted.
“Right. Like you made something with the spinach and the chicken and the obscenely massive bag of rice we have at home for no reason.”
