Chapter Four
Bets and Crossing Boundaries
Gabe
We’ve been talking for over an hour now.
Luke and Kaden have left already, and my conversation with Ender has come full circle back to hockey.
Don’t get me wrong—I love hockey as much as the next guy, but he’s a Bruins fan.
My family would disown me just for associating with him.
My father, born and raised in Montreal, has been a Habs fan his whole life, passing his love for the sport and his team down to me.
Avoiding the topic is probably best for both of us, but he refuses to let it go.
“Listen, your team is playing lousy this season. Maybe after trades they can get some players who are worth a damn, but there’s no way they make it to the playoffs.
Their streak is ending—it’s not going to happen for them this season.
” I really hate arguing with Ender, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him talking.
We’ve talked about half a dozen topics already, all surface-level stuff.
I don’t expect him to tell me his deepest, darkest secrets the first time we meet, but give me something.
I can tell he’s one of the quiet ones. I’m usually good at reading people—I know there’s a story behind those pretty hazel eyes. I’m not usually into blond guys, but the medium shaggy platinum look is working for him, and the septum piercing tops it off perfectly.
“Whatever. We can come back from this. We still have almost two months until the playoffs—plenty of time to turn this season around, you’ll see. And I’ll put my money where my mouth is on this one.”
Well, thank you for the opportunity here, Ender. “I’m not a betting man, especially for money, but I’ll gladly take you up on that bet.”
“If you don’t bet for money, then what are the stakes?” With his crooked brows, his confusion turns to intrigue fast, and I’m here for it.
“I’m afraid the only answer I can give is ‘to be determined at a later date.’ I don’t know what you have to offer yet, and it wouldn’t be fair to make a decision without more information, would it?
” As I throw the slight challenge at him, he appears to get nervous, looking away from me without answering.
Just when I think I went too far, he turns back to me with an outstretched hand. “I’ll agree to your terms on one condition.” He lowers his voice. “No intrusive questions about myself. That’s a hard no for me.”
As much as I’d hate to agree with this, I respect his privacy. “Is that your only hard no?” I glanced down at his hand, still awaiting mine.
His eyes flick quickly to my lips and back to mine, while I wait for his response. “I’m afraid the only answer I can give is ‘to be determined at a later date.’”
“Touché.” I can’t hide the pleased look on my face when I gently clasp his hand in mine, brushing my thumb softly against his skin while we linger in the connection. When his lips separate barely enough to release a hushed breath—was that a reaction to my gentle caress?—I’m filled with curiosity.
“Ender, ready to get your ass kicked? That pool table upstairs is screaming our names—let’s go!” Lanie’s voice breaks the moment, and I have to fight to hide my disappointment when they walk away together toward the staircase.
I fall into conversation with Jackson and Dakota, trying to focus on that rather than the tantalizing ideas I can come up with to claim my win once the Bruins fall out of the standings for the playoffs. With the playoffs still being a few weeks away, I have plenty of time to decide.
“Gabe, you okay?” Dakota’s question snaps my attention back to the present.
I realize I haven’t been paying any attention to the conversation and decide to tap out for the night.
“Sorry, getting tired. I think I’m going to head out. I’ll catch you guys later.” As I say goodbye to my friends, I debate whether I should go upstairs to the rest of the group.
Ultimately, I decided it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye to them. When I enter the billiards area, I see Faith and Connor teamed up, playing against Lanie and Ender. They’re all laughing and having a good time—except Ender.
“What’s the matter? Not having fun?” I expect to startle him as I come up from behind. Instead, his body stiffens as he straightens, only slightly turning his head to peer at me.
“What makes you think I’m not having a good time?”
If this is him having a good time, I would hate to see what having a bad time looks like.
“You don’t smile often, do you? Why is that?” I test the water to see what level of ‘intrusive questions’ I’m dealing with here.
He stays silent, still looking over his shoulder at me, until he walks away with nothing more than a shake of his head.
Fuck, too far. I cut my losses and managed to say goodbye to everyone else without causing more damage to these new friendships. Before walking away, I make eye contact with Ender from across the pool table, mouthing, ‘I’m sorry,’ hoping he’ll accept my apology.
I patiently wait for what seems like a moment frozen in time, his icy glare withering any shred of hope I might’ve had of us becoming friends, if nothing else.
Just as I’m about to give up and walk away, he graces me with a one-sided grin.
I take the win with a nod, and when I turn to leave, it doesn’t seem as hard as it had been a minute ago.
Did I come to work today with one intention in mind?
Yes, absolutely. Luke texted and said he’d be a little late—he didn’t mention why—and I’m impatiently waiting as I pace our office.
I want to ask him for Ender’s number, but I’m not sure how to do it without him giving me the third degree and telling me to stay away from his boyfriend’s best friend.
I don’t exactly have the best track record with guys, and this has the potential to fuck up any kind of cohesion within our new group of friends.
I should be working, but there’s no way that’s happening right now. So, what’s better than your best friend scolding you? Stalking Ender’s social media accounts, that’s what.
I don’t remember seeing Ender in any of Kaden’s posts when I was playing FBI for Luke. You can’t let your best friend, who hasn’t had a relationship in his entire adult life, date anyone without scouring the entire internet to find out whatever you can about the guy.
As soon as I get to Kaden’s profile, I see a couple of photos from their trip to Georgia this past weekend.
The smiling blond, hugging his friends and what looks like singing in a few pics, is a stark difference to the man I met last night.
I wonder if it’s the music or his friends—or maybe both—that brings this side of him out.
The genuine smile on his face is sweet, almost innocent.
I can’t wait to see this side of him in person—it’s already giving me the fluttering inside my core.
I scour Kaden’s followers for his friend’s account, finding one that has the blue ‘New’ flag on it with Ender’s name.
Opening it, all I find are the same photos from this past weekend, posted with today’s date on them.
My finger hovers over the DM button, and I’m aware I could be overthinking this.
I just don’t want to come on too strong or sound like I’m obsessed with him—because that’s not what this is.
He just has my attention, that’s all. I want to know more about him.
What’s his story? While I’ll admit I’m a nosy motherfucker, it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty to look at, and I wouldn’t mind getting to see more of him.
Fuck it, I’m going with my gut. I’ll suffer my friend’s wrath at a later date.
I hope it’s not too presumptuous thinking it’s okay to slide into your DMs.
I put my phone down on the desk and waited. I’m not going to sit here and stare at my phone, watching to see if dots pop up. I’m not that desperate, and I’ll only be torturing myself if he decides to ignore me.
I’ve never grabbed my phone as fast as I do when it vibrates on the desk less than a minute later.
I’m not desperate. I’m not.
Maybe a little
I like his honesty.
So not entirely, then. That’s a green light for me to continue in my book.
Still up for debate. I’m not sure I have enough information to form an opinion yet.
And exactly what information do you need for me to convince you?
When Ender doesn’t reply right away, I start to wonder if I’ve already said something wrong—even though there’s nothing offensive about what I said. A few minutes pass by, and I give up, hoping he got busy working, which is what I should be doing.
Instead of staring at my phone, I distract myself, losing track of time until Luke walks into the office almost an hour later.
“Hey, Gabe. How’s it going? Anything I need to address right away?”
“We have a couple of things to talk about, but nothing pressing. You sound like you’re in a good mood.
What gives?” Luke has some serious pep in his step as he walks over to my desk.
He plants his ass on the desk, then spends the next few minutes telling me about his night with Kaden, only stopping when my phone buzzes.
His eyes shoot from my screen to my face with a raised brow.
I know right away that Ender’s name is on the notification.
“Should I even ask what that’s about?” Luke crosses his arms, and I suddenly feel like a scolded child.
“Do you have to?” The tilt of his head tells me he’s not letting this go. “It’s nothing, Luke. I promise I’m not going to fuck over Kaden’s friend.”
“Gabe, you’re a perpetual bachelor…”
“And you weren’t?” I’m not about to let him forget that we were once in the same boat.
“Yeah, I was, but I didn’t fuck around with anyone on a regular basis. Gabe, you go through guys like you’re running a race.”
“So, that means I can’t be serious about wanting to get to know someone better?”
I know I get my point across when his hands drop to the desk by his sides. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just think you may be a little…much for Ender. He has a bit of a history.”
“I’m not going to ask what you mean, because it’s not my place, nor do I think you’d tell me. I don’t care, Luke. I know I’m more outgoing than he is—I can see that, but does that mean we can’t be friends?”
“Friends?” He gives me one last doubting look before turning toward his desk and dropping the conversation.
I know he’s only being protective of his people, myself included in this scenario. There’s potential for both Ender or me to fuck this up and hurt each other if this goes south—not to mention the uncomfortable position Kaden will be in—and that’s assuming anything even happens.
I’m reminded how guarded Ender seems to be when I read his next text message.
What are your intentions with me?
Do I really have clear intentions about what I want out of this?
That’s a very open-ended question, Ender. Are you sure you’re ready for that conversation?
Again, he leaves me on read for a painfully long minute until the dots pop up. My relief must be written all over my face because I hear an amused snort from Luke across the room. I ignore him.
What are your intentions with me, Gabe?
Truthfully, I’m not quite sure. Is it such a bad thing that I might want to get know you more?
You shook on no intrusive questions, so how do you plan on doing that?
That deal was part of winning the bet. I haven’t won yet. Perfect loophole. *face with tongue sticking out emoji*
I told you that’s a hard no for me. Bet or not. Maybe you should think more about this before you message me again.
Shit, that didn’t go how I thought it would.
Maybe getting to know him won’t be as easy as I thought it would be.
Instead of responding with a reaction that will make things worse, I’ll take his advice for a few days.
Luke may have been right—there’s more of a story there than I thought if Ender is this closed off.