Page 44 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“You’re staying here and don’t know how to turn on the TV?” Tripp looks horrified.

“No screens,” I tell him.

“Wasn’t that just for the first day or so?” He cracks open a beer and flops on the couch. “Besides, I thought your headaches were gone?”

“They’re more of a dull ache as long as I don’t get overstimulated,” I explain, “and screens are sort of triggering.”

“So, you literally have to stare at the walls all day? Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.” Tripp sips his drink.

Xander gives me one of his trademark‘what can you do’shrugs. “He swears he’s never been concussed so it’s possible he didn’t understand the gravity of the whole no screen thing. Then again, his memory sucks for things that don’t revolve around him, so…”

“I heard that, bestie. And I’ll have you know my memory works perfectly for all the important things, like when it’s safe to sneak into your yard to use the pool, and how to curl my finger to make Noah—”

“I knew you’ve been using the pool when I wasn’t there.” Xander rolls his eyes as he drops next to Tripp on the couch.

“Oh, you were there. You were just otherwise occupied.” Tripp wiggles his brows. “Now, how do we get the game on this thing? Watching Noah stretch gives me ideas about how to bend him when we fuck.”

“Jesus,” Xander mutters. “Can’t you go one night without talking about Noah’s dick?”

“Ican, but I don’t know why I would. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me and that’s the sort of shit you’re supposed to shout from the rooftops.”

Xander sighs and shakes his head at me. “I honestly thought having a boyfriend would make him less obnoxious.”

I offer a weak smile as I sink into the corner of the sectional, where I can recline without having to look at the TV. “It’s still new. Maybe once the initial excitement wears off, he’ll mellow.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Noah likes me this way,” Tripp smirks wickedly. “Now, turn this thing on.” He hands the remote to Xander, who hits a few buttons and brings up an image of a rink. I snatch a throw pillow and prop it under my head so I canlook at the wallsandthe ceiling, then lie back with my hands folded over my stomach and wait for the game to start.

The two of them chatter about work stuff—they both do some type of digital design I think—and I let the background noise lull me into that place where you’re not quite asleep but you’re not fully awake either. I’m on the verge of actually dozing off when Xander nudges my calf and says, “Game’s on.”

I picture the rink in my head as the announcers give the play-by-play, visualizing Niko stealing the puck and passing it to Luca, who skates behind the opposing team’s net and tries to sneak the puck between the goalie’s leg and the post. It doesn’t work, ricocheting off the goalie’s skate and getting picked up by one of their defenders, who passes it to a forward and takes a shot at Noah.

It’s more of a trial than a calculated shot—testing to see if Noah’s on his game—and since it’s rare for Noah to be off his game he easily catches it in his glove.

“God, I hate when they shoot at him.” Tripp fans his face.

“Are you worried he won’t stop it?” I ask.

“No, I’m worried he’s gonna take a puck to the dick.” I start to laugh—typical Tripp—but the hint of actual panic in his eye has me swallowing it down.

“We’ve been through this,” Xander’s voice is calm instead of annoyed, which is unusual when it comes to Tripp. Xander seems to be perpetually exasperated by Tripp’s antics, so much so, I often wonder why they’re best friends. Clearly there’s an element to their relationship I haven’t seen to this point.

“He’s got layers of pads on,” Xander continues. “He’s perfectly safe.”

“Yes, but there are tiny little gaps in those pads and the puck is small and fast. What if it sneaks through and breaks him? What do I do if my boyfriend doesn’t have a working dick?”

That’s an oddly specific worry.

“You love him for more than his cock,” Xander says.

“I know, but I also really love sex. What if something happens to him and I’m too shallow to tough it out? It’s in my DNA to be a callous bastard, you know.”

Oh wow. I see where this is coming from.

When Tripp talked about his parents disowning him as a kid, he was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, almost like he’d moved past it. Or at least, that’s the impression I got. I guess he still has scars from that, which really sucks because even though he’s uncomfortably candid and bold, deep down he’s a good person who didn’t deserve what happened to him. He’s also typically overconfident, so to see him have doubts about himself and his capacity for relationships is kind of heartbreaking.

“DNA isn’t pure from one generation to the next,” I tell him. “There are variants that make people unique, so you aren’t destined to be callous just because your parents are.”

“Really?” Tripp sounds hopeful, though I don’t look at him to confirm it because that feels like it’d be a lot of effort. “How do you know that?”

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