Chapter 2 Wolfe
TWO
WOLFE
Iblink my eyes open against the sun filtering in through my window.
I flinch and bring my hands up.
My first reaction is to protect myself, but it only lasts a second before I fully ground myself in the day and where I am. I stretch my arm out, feeling the flannel sheets under my fingers while inhaling the cool air of the city. It’s a technique my therapist taught me.
It smells nothing like Georgia, and every single day I wake up here, I’m happy that I’m not back.
I never want to go back.
My brain always starts out cloudy but I smile remembering I fell asleep with Archangel next to me. As I continue to stretch out, I realize he’s not there.
But when did he leave?
I frown.
Why wouldn’t he just stay?
Did I forget to shower? I sniff myself. I smell great.
Ever since I started stealing his Loewe Tomato soap, I’ve smelled like a snack.
I was skeptical at first, who wants to smell like a plant, but rich people have secrets or something?
This is probably one of those ways they get generational wealth, smelling like a snack all the time.
If it’s not my scent, then why would Archangel leave?
Rude.
I need a bed Dr. Pepper, to not make this day ass.
I check the ones on my headboard to see if any are still viable. I’m not proud of it, but it takes a lot to get this massive body moving in the morning.
All the cans are empty, so I stumble out of bed and down the stairs like I’m still drunk.
Seaborn says something to me, but I don’t hear him as I yank open the fridge and grab a can. I chug half of it before my brain begins to play nice and I realize Seaborn is still speaking to me.
I turn on him and squint. “Slow down. I can’t speak English before my morning DP.” Seaborn laughs, and I cross my arms. “It’s like you haven’t lived with me for three years.”
“It still astonishes me how you live like this. How do you not speak English? You aren’t bilingual.”
“My brain only understands grunts. I revert to caveman Wolfe.”
“Actually, that tracks. Anyway, I was saying good morning and asking what you guys are doing later.” Seaborn makes himself a coffee.
There’s something itching in the back of my brain. “Ask Archangel. He’s better at my schedule.”
Speak of the devil, Archangel scoffs from the doorway. His gaze crawls over me, and I sip my drink, waiting for him to speak first.
“We’re going to the club. At least I am. I didn’t get laid last night.” He’s entirely sass, and it rubs me wrong. “You coming?”
The feelings from last night come back. I’m annoyed and a little possessive. For no reason at all. Or maybe that’s why I woke up annoyed. And he left last night which didn’t help. Sometimes I hate sharing him.
Seaborn shakes his head. “Not to the kind of club you’re going to. I need to be careful before the draft.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Archangel winks, then turns to me. “I’m guessing you’re a no, too?”
I narrow my eyes, knowing what he’s doing. “I’m game.”
Archangel clearly didn’t expect that response, and he’s left speechless. I keep sipping my DP waiting. Finally, he speaks, “What angle are you playing here?”
“A straight man can’t go to a gay club and take in the atmosphere?”
“Literally no.”
“Then I’ll be the first.”
He throws up his hands. “Do what you want, but like Seaborn said, this could fuck up the draft.”
I roll my shoulders. “I’m not worried about anyone thinking anything about me. They either want my mad skills, or they don’t.”
Archangel rolls his eyes. “I’d give you shit for being so cocky, but you are the best goalie in the league.”
“I know.” I start a latte macchiato for him on his fancy espresso maker. “Where’d you go last night?” I say with all the nonchalance I can muster.
“What do you mean?” He’s right behind me when I turn with the coffee.
It catches me off guard, but I stay cool as a cucumber. I hand him the coffee, but he doesn’t back up.
“You left…” I can’t figure out a way to word what I want to say without sounding weird, so I just leave it at that.
“Last night?” he asks, acting like he’s confused.
“When else would I mean?” I hate the tension between us. I don’t even know what caused it. Usually, things are easy with him.
“You were asleep. I went to sleep in my bed.” His brows furrow, and now I actually believe he’s confused.
“We used to have sleepovers.” I don’t even know the point I’m trying to make.
“When we were kids.”
“I didn’t really get to be a kid, so maybe I still want to be.” I side-step to get out of the close proximity, but he moves with me.
“Wolfe.” His whole face falls, and now I feel bad.
I shake my head, putting on a smile. “It’s fine. I’m going to have to grow up after this year and get a real job. I guess I have to get used to it.”
“A real job?” He shoves my shoulder playfully. “I’m the one who’s going to need a real job. You’re going to be playing a game!”
“It’s still not the same. We need to make this year count.” I’m just not sure what that means.
“We can do that, big guy.” Archangel sips his coffee. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you want me to spend the night, I will,” he says softly.
I smile. “I’d like that.”
“Just not when I’m horny,” he says pointedly.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You can go without getting laid occasionally. I’m better than any man could ever be, anyway.”
He looks at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Whatever—” He stops and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “My mom is calling me.”
I’m not surprised he looks unhappy about it.
Archangel has a love-hate relationship with his family.
They’re very southern in their beliefs about homosexuality.
They wished he was one of those straight-passing gays or whatever.
But that was never who he was. So they clashed.
Since I hated going back to Savannah, I didn’t mind that he usually didn’t bother going for breaks, either.
“Are you going to answer it?” I ask when he just stares at his phone.
“My mom never calls. This has got to be bad news.”