Page 35 of Two Guys One Puck
“Then why do you care if we are friendly? The truce held all day, and you’re still here. Why?” He’s got me there. I walked right into his trap.
“You’re also sleeping in my room.” I know it’s a bad excuse, but I’m having a hard time coming up with an answer, truth or not.
“I can go home. Not ideal, but I can be out of your hair…” This motherfucker knows what he’s doing. Does he want me to beg him? I won’t.
“And fuck yourself in the process? What good would that do anyone?”
“Then what is it?” he’s not giving up.
“I’m not getting to you today. Why?”
“You think I’m going to answer your questions when you don’t answer mine? Fuck off.” Seaborn crosses his arms.
“What do you want me to say? I don’t know why it’s bothering me, but it is. Are you happy?” I exhale the words in one breath like if I say them faster, they’ll count less…or something equally as asinine.
“I don’t know what I want you to say.” He’s quiet, but when I open my mouth to ask my question again, he goes on, “You were getting to me. I just controlled myself better.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
He nods.
“Asshole.” My word brings out a smile.
“It got you to talk, didn’t it?” Glee shines in his eyes.
“Do you want to fight again? We have a truce.” I don’t know why he gets so far under my skin. I should just let him do his thing, but I can’t let it go.
“I was leaving you alone. You’re the one pushing my buttons and who followed me in here.” He’s burying me in logic, and I hate it. “You could have left it.”
“You’re just making me want to hit you more,” I say through my teeth.
“Hit me or kiss me?”
TWELVE
SEABORN
I’m playing with fire, and I fucking know it. Both outcomes are equally as dangerous. If we get caught fighting in the locker room, I’m sure the Dragons will send us both home. Fucking… Well, they’ll be less mad, but guys have not been drafted before for not fitting in with the team culture, and being gay could very well get us on a mental ‘do not hire’ list. It’s totally different when a guy who already fits into the team dynamic comes out. They trust him. They already like him. I know a lot of the mentality in professional sports is ‘They don’t want a bunch of queers coming in and making dudes uncomfortable’ therefor upsetting the delicate balance of the team or whatever.
“Well?” I ask when Ktytor doesn’t answer.
He grinds his teeth. “Neither is a good idea.”
A thrill of excitement buzzes in my chest. It’s like preventing him from scoring. Or stealing the puck on a great play. But way more intense than I’ve ever felt on the ice.
“No?” I turn a little, pressing my thigh in to his.
He drops his gaze to our touching skin and swallows hard. “Are you on drugs, sweetheart?”
Why do I like how he reacts to me? The anger in his tone? The way I can get him all worked up? Maybe I am on drugs. Thistype of intoxication is dangerous, and I know it’s not going to end well, but I can’t stop.
“Now you’re shy? You can bait me for days, but when we’re alone, you suddenly pussy out?”
“I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you intoxicated,” he quips.
“You always have a comeback, but why aren’t you putting your money where your mouth is?”
“Where would you like me to put my mouth, baby doll?”
