SAWYER #2
Noah: I mean, you don’t have to tell me.
Noah: I don’t mean, you know, ‘celebrating’ but like, are you going out for drinks?
Noah: Fuck. Ignore me. Long day.
Me: You’re seriously overthinking this. And for what it’s worth, I’m in a bathrobe on my bed, waiting for room service and calling it early tonight.
Avery was humming to himself in the bathroom while I grinned at my phone and waited for Noah’s reply. Just then, Avery came out of the bathroom in a cloud of cologne. “What the hell?” he asked, his surprise limited to the slightest quirk of his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked, glancing at my phone. I found nothing there, then put it on the nightstand.
“I thought we were going out, dude,” Avery said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “We’re away. It’s what we do.”
He was right. Whenever we’d been at away games — and especially when we were the victors — Avery and I would hit the town the way only two best wingmen and friends would. “Ah, I’m kinda tired,” I said, reaching for my phone and checking if there were notifications. There were none.
“Right,” Avery said. Something about his tone told me he didn’t buy it. It was just that Avery’s normal and sarcastic voices were so alike that you could never be totally sure.
I snorted. “We’ve been in Chicago a dozen times, dude. You’re not gonna get lost.”
“No, but I thought we were going out together,” Avery said, giving a little shrug.
I cocked my head to the side. Was he doing an…emotion? I didn’t know how to deal with one if he was. “Look at it this way. Without me in the picture, you’re gonna be the most desirable bachelor there.”
Avery’s skeptical look tickled me. “You only ever had more luck, buddy.” His lips trembled in the corners like he was about to smile. “Come on. Spill the truth. What’s keeping you here?”
I shrugged. “I told you. I’m just tired.”
“And yet, you look as alert as if we’re still on the ice. Spill it, Sawyer.” He leaned a little forward while all my gestures closed. I crossed my legs and my arms. “Fuck, dude. You’ve totally lost it for that guy, haven’t you?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my robot friend was smirking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Avery narrowed his eyes. My phone dinged. Avery’s eyes shot wide open and he actually stretched his sharp lips into a wolfish grin. “Your boyfriend’s calling,” he said.
“What?” I asked, my voice airy and heat rising to my face. “We’re not boyfriends. He’s not…my… You know what? Shut up.”
Avery threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
“What day?” I blurted, staring in terror at this laughing person who possessed my best friend’s body. “This isn’t the day. You won’t see the day. You’re acting weird.”
Avery nodded and got up. “Chill, dude. Your secret’s safe with me.” Then the fucker winked and turned away from me.
As Avery walked toward the door, I murmured after him. “It’s not a secret. There’s no secret. I don’t even know what you think I’m hiding.”
He exhaled shortly, which, in Avery’s language, was laughter, and shook his head. “Suit yourself. And say hi to your lover boy.” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his gray eyes sparkling, then marched out of the room.
I needed a moment to compose myself before lifting my phone. It wasn’t my secret to tell. Besides, we’d only hooked up once, so it wasn’t something I wanted to advertise.
But there lay the problem, too. Avery and I, for better or worse, didn’t keep these things secret from one another. We talked plainly about these things and, it shamed me to admit, even bragged about our escapades.
The fact that I wasn’t doing it now gave Avery all sorts of wrong ideas.
But it felt unholy to do it to Noah. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about him if he didn’t approve first.
Just as I was lifting my phone, a knock on my door alerted me that my food had arrived. After room service left I checked the contents of the platter, wrinkled my nose at it, and realized that it wasn’t food I was ravenous for. I left the little cart where it stood and returned to my phone.
Noah: Did you say you were in your bathrobe?
He sent a drooling emoji after that, then an embarrassed one, then an apology if he overstepped my boundaries. He was still overthinking it and I decided enough was enough. Without another thought, I spread the bathrobe open to bare my chest, then sent Noah a selfie.
Me: Enough proof?
I was chuckling to myself until a message came back.
Noah: Enough? Never. The evidence is not conclusive. You might be wearing a bedsheet for all I can see.
Snickering, I adjusted the bathrobe and extended my arm to take a much broader portrait of myself. It went all the way to my waist, where a loose knot held the robe together. And, as I did this, all the feelings that usually followed a battle on the ice began to stir.
I wished he was here.
Which was an odd feeling. Normally, I would wish to have gone out with Avery. He was going to satiate his hunger just fine. But me? I had no appetite for the random boys and girls of Chicago tonight.
Noah: That could be a doctored photo. I have no way of knowing.
I wrinkled my nose and did something unthinkable. My brain caught up with my thumbs a moment too late and I found myself stuck in the moment of dialing Noah for a video call.