Page 95 of Flagrant Foul
“Luca!” I cry as he flies into my arms. “Buddy, I missed you.”
“I missed you too, T-Dog.” I know I say I don’t like my team nickname, but when Luca Stirling says it, I don’t mind it. The way he says it is so cute. So sincere. He says it as though it’s my real name, without a hint of irony or humor.
“What happened to you?” I say. “How’d you get so tall? You were yea high and now look at you?”
“Well,” he says earnestly, “we’ve been eating a lot of ice cream, and it doesn’t affect my appetite at all, so I eat allmy normal food as well. I think that’s what’s making me so big.”
Ben holds up a hand, looking sheepish, and says, “We eat a perfectly normal amount of ice cream. No more, no less.”
Jeremiah shakes his head somberly. “We eatwaymore ice cream than normal.”
I’m not a hundred percent sure what they’re on about, but I’m here for it.
“Great game, guys,” says Ben as players gather around him. “Seriously, you were on fire. That was unreal. I was on my feet for most of it.” He pauses and looks at Jeremiah. Something passes back and forth between them, and Ben smiles in a way I haven’t seen him smile for years. “I had a really good time watching you play.”
Other players pepper Ben with questions, so I turn to Jeremiah. “What about you? Did you enjoy the game?”
“Yeah, I did. I, er, I don’t usually watch hockey unless I’m watching a rerun of one of Ben’s ga…um, older games, you know?”
“Ah,” I say as though that makes sense.
“Basically, I’m a huge hockey fan who happens to prefer watching vintage games on TV. But this was nice too!”
Ben chuckles and puts an arm around Jeremiah’s waist. They look at each other, eyes glazed over, and it’s hard to decide who looks more whipped.
I’m on a high by the time Sev and I get home. The adrenaline from the game has mingled with the impact of seeing Ben and Jeremiah on the kiss-cam. Victory and the promise the playoffs hold have fizzed into a froth that’s gone straight to my head. I’ve had a glass of champagne, and people are calling my save one of the greatest saves of all time. I’m with Sev, and he’s wearing a suit, and I love him so much that I’m singing “Dream Weaver” at the top of my lungs. Maximum volume has been engaged, and a whisk from the kitchen is being used as a mic.
Sev is doubled over laughing and looking at me like something he wants to eat.
“What do you want to do with our time off, handsome?” I ask between choruses. We have a few days off before the playoffs begin, and I’m feeling generous. And romantic as hell. I’m in the mood to spoil my man. “Where do you want to go? Name the place, and I’ll take you there. I’ll charter a flight. Paris? Rome? Santorini? Say the word, and it’s done. I’ll take you there.”
“Oh Jesus,” he says, prying the whisk out of my hand and putting it down on the kitchen counter.
“Hey! I need that.”
“What for? ’Cause I’m warning you, my heart can’t handle another seduction.”
“The seduction’s over, baby. You’re mine now. Nothing you can do about it. We’re at the steady, settled part of our relationship now, where we’re disgustingly happy and every now and then, I sweep you off your feet. That’s right. You heard me. Imma sweep you off your feet, big boy.”
I expect him to roll his eyes or laugh, or maybe spank me a little. He doesn’t. He goes still instead. Serious and sincere. “You already did that, Tee.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah. A while back. A long time ago. My fate was decided years ago. In a nightclub in New York, by a little shit, wearing a top he should never,everhave left the house in.”
“I still have that top, d’you know that?”
His eyes flutter closed and he makes a pained sound.
“Tell you what,” I say brightly. “I’ll pack it for our trip. Where d’you want to go? I’m serious. We can go anywhere you want to go.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere, Tee,” he says as he takes me into his arms and pulls me close. He bows his head, planting his lips against my jugular. “I’m already exactly where I belong.”
