Page 109 of The Long Game
Ilya did love jam. Especially raspberry. He had a spot of it on his cheek that Shane decided not to tell him about.
“Here,” Yuna said as she emerged from the garage. She tossed something that Shane barely managed to catch. “I got you a treat.”
Shane frowned at the pomegranate in his hands. “Thanks.”
Ilya laughed. “Take a bite!”
“You don’t bite into a pomegranate, dumbass.”
“No? There isn’t important fiber and nutrients in the, um, shell?”
Shane huffed and took his pomegranate to the kitchen. The whole Christmas day so far had been weird, and sort of tense. They’d been sniping at each other since Shane had arrived at Ilya’s yesterday morning.
They’d woken up together after a somewhat competitive evening playing foosball on the new table Shane had bought as a Christmas gift for Ilya. It had been delivered earlier that day, and Ilya had been thrilled with it. So that had been okay.
Their heated foosball battle had turned into heated making out, and then sex, which had also been okay. Normal. Overall a decent Christmas Eve.
In the morning, Ilya had grouched about Shane not being fun to make breakfast for, and Shane had told him he didn’taskIlya to make breakfast for him. They’d argued back and forth while Shane made a smoothie and Ilya made himself scrambled eggs with toast and sausages. Then they’d glared at each other across the kitchen table while they ate.
Before they’d left for Shane’s parents’, Ilya had grumbled something about giving Shane his present later, and Shane didn’t know what that meant. Ilya hadn’t seemed excited about it, that was for sure.
There were things, Shane suspected, that Ilya wasn’t telling him, which made Shane anxious and a bit angry. Why wouldIlya keep anything from Shane? He’d thought they were beyond that. If Shane didn’t know better, he’d think Ilya was cheating on him or something. Or that he wanted to break up.
But, Shane kept assuring himself, hedidknow better. Maybe Ilya’s mood was purely hockey-related. Shane would certainly be in a pissy mood if his team sucked as much as the Ottawa Centaurs.
Whatever it was, Shane was getting tired of it. If Ilya had a problem with Shane, or with anything, he should talk to Shane about it. Not dig into him about his diet or his friends or whatever else Ilya decided to make fun of him about.
Ilya entered the kitchen as Shane was irritably extracting seeds from the pomegranate. “Need help?” he asked.
Shane sighed, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. Maybe he was being annoyed with Ilya for no reason. “I’m good.” He pinched a seed between his finger and thumb and held it out. “Want one?”
Ilya opened his mouth, and Shane slipped the seed inside. Ilya closed his lips around Shane’s fingers for a second, which made Shane smile. He really did love Ilya so much.
“Good,” Ilya said when he’d swallowed the seed. “Not as good as the cookies, but good.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Ilya opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggnog. He glanced at Shane as he made his way to the cupboard where the glasses were, as if waiting for him to say something about the nutritional horrors of eggnog.
“What?”Shane asked testily.
“No lecture?”
Shane slammed the pomegranate half he was working with down on the cutting board. Juice flew everywhere. “Would you please fuck off? I don’t give a shit what you or anyone else eats, Ilya.”
Ilya snorted. “This is not true. You bitch at me all the time.”
“Because you always start it!”
Ilya didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled a large glass from the cupboard and poured himself about a gallon of eggnog.
Shane’s pomegranate-stained fingers curled into fists. He wasnotgoing to say anything.
Ilya raised the glass in a toast, and took a long haul of eggnog, which was disgusting to watch. Shane stared him down anyway.
Ilya finished with a loud, obnoxious “Ahh,” then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Shane turned his back to him, grabbed a dishcloth, and began cleaning the spattered pomegranate juice from the counter.
“Your parents want to exchange presents now,” Ilya said.
