2. Jake
Jake’s brain wasn’t working.
Usually, it never shut up, caught in a current of three songs patched together, whispers of all the food he wanted to eat, and repeating hockey stats that had appealing numbers. He had learned to live with the constant ruckus, which is why it was shocking when everything suddenly went quiet.
Kneeling in front of him was the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life.
Gorgeous brown eyes stared back at him, wide after hearing whatever words had escaped Jake’s mouth.
The plumpest lips and most kissable mouth had parted slightly, caught between trying to speak and shocked silence.
Soft-looking skin and high cheekbones, which were slowly flushing red, had him fighting the urge to touch and feel them under his fingers. And the brown hair…
Jake loved brunettes.
Fuck, he was such a goner.
The slam of a door interrupted his thoughts, and Jake turned in time to see his teammates running past the shop window, cackling loudly, their feet slipping in the snow.
They had left him…alone…
With the beautiful man…who was speaking to him.
“What?” Jake asked, cringing when reality crashed down on him, and the noise inside his brain erupted louder than an explosion.
The look the beautiful man gave him screamed of irritation, and Jake felt his blood heat.
“I said, can you please tell me if you’re hurt and need an ambulance? If you’re not, can you please stand up so I can pick up my underwear?”
Oh fuck, the stranger had to stop talking like he owned the silky lingerie, or Jake was never going to stop picturing him wearing them.
Jake tuned into his body, finding nothing bruised except his pride. The mannequin he had landed on helped break his fall, as did the equipment bag he was still carrying.
“No ambulance,” Jake grumbled. He moved backward to dismount the plastic torso he had been crushing, and with a grimace, pushed onto his feet. “Not hurt, just stupid.”
The beautiful man was still kneeling on the floor, blinking up at him with pretty doe eyes. “Then why did you ask for my number? I figured you needed it so you can stay in contact when you file your complaint.”
Shit. Had he asked for his number?
Good, now he didn’t have to work up the courage to do it while he was thinking properly.
“Can I?” Jake asked.
The stranger puffed his cheeks like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. “Can you what?”
Jake was already fucking this up.
“Your number,” he tried again. “Can I have it?”
“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” The stranger stood, his head barely reaching Jake’s chest.
He was so small, stunning, and feisty. Jake had struggled with his attraction to men since he realized he was bisexual, but not because he didn’t want to try being with one. He just…struggled with attraction in general.
But there was something about this tiny man. Yes, he was physically attractive, but Jake couldn’t explain what separated this one from all the other men he’d met in his life.
All he knew was that the chaos in his head settled when their gazes locked, and he wanted to see what other spells the stranger could cast on him.
“Very few words,” said the stranger. “And no, you can’t have my number. That would be weird.”
Jake frowned, which the stranger didn’t see because he was picking up the mess that was on the floor and grumbling about his broken table.
“Goddamn, I can’t believe you snapped the leg off.” The man sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with the sound. “The store closes in ten minutes, so I guess I’m missing the next bus.”
Jake quickly shoved his hand into his back pocket and removed his wallet. He offered one-hundred dollars to the man before he could finish speaking.
Dark lashes fluttered, distracting Jake momentarily before he returned to the task of handing the cash over.
“Okay, use your words. Why are you flashing money at me like I’m a waitress at Hooters?”
Talking was stupid. Jake hated talking.
“For the table,” said Jake.
A dark brow raised, and the corners of that pretty pink mouth quirked up.
“What kind of tables do you own if you’re offering me a hundred dollars?”
Jake didn’t know. That’s why he paid someone to furnish his place.
“For your name, then,” Jake added.
Jake didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be bubbling laughter.
“Oh wow,” said the stranger. “Please tell me this isn’t how you pick up girls, because I don’t know how you’ve made it this far without having the cops called on you.”
That was the great thing about playing hockey. Jake didn’t have to ask anyone for anything. Girls gave him their numbers.
And because Jake had gotten stuck in his head again, he forgot to respond to the man’s statement in an acceptable amount of time.
“Alright, I won’t pester you.” The man patted Jake on the arm sympathetically, and even through his heavy jacket, sparks buzzed along his nerves. “Keep your money unless you’re buying something. But I am going to have to ask you to leave so I can close, so if you could—”
“Those,” Jake said, accidentally cutting him off. It was too late now, so he pointed to the clump of purple lace in the stranger’s hand. “I want those.”
The attention turned to the panties, and the man scoffed. “Christmas gift?”
Jake’s cheeks were burning, but he was committed. “I had someone in mind.”
And he was looking right at him.
Jake wasn’t a gambling man, but he was confident that he and this stranger would be dating by Christmas. Two weeks wasn’t a lot of time, but…
“Come to the counter then.”
The man sauntered away, leaving Jake to fumble for his equipment bag and carefully walk over to the counter. He was blushing so hard his skin was prickling as he stopped at the till, placing the bill onto the surface.
The stranger was still chuckling while he rang up Jake’s purchase and then disappeared into a room behind the counter. He returned less than a minute later with a box, which Jake assumed contained an untouched set of panties.
“Is that everything?”
Jake fiddled with the strap on his shoulder and nodded.
The money was finally accepted, and Jake was handed his newly purchased underwear in a discreet bag, along with his change.
He ignored the change.
The stranger’s expression pinched, but then he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. My name is Allen. Please take the rest of your money or donate it. I can’t accept tips.”
Allen. Allen.
“Donate it then,” said Jake. He wanted to end their interaction in a way that painted him as less of an idiot, so he smiled and took the bag.
“Thank you, Allen.”
Allen had…the most adorable blush.
“Have a good night,” said Allen. “Please don’t impale yourself on something until you’re outside and I’m no longer liable.”
Okay, Jake deserved that one.
Wanting to save what was left of his pride, he hurried out of the store and made a beeline for his car parked the next block over. Riley was waiting for him, leaning against the salt-splattered side of his BMW, smoking a cigarette and glaring at his phone.
His best friend looked up when he saw him approach, showing off his trademark smirk.
“Did you score a boyfriend?”
Jake unlocked the car and ripped the back door open, shoving his bag and the gift for Allen inside. “Shut the fuck up.”
Riley opened the other side and went to put his equipment in the back, too, but Jake smacked the top of the car to get his attention.
“You’re sitting in the back. Leave room for yourself or walk.”
Riley’s mouth fell open, but a wide grin quickly covered up his shock. “You fucking player. You’re making a move already?”
Jake said nothing and got into the driver’s seat.
“I knew it!” Riley threw his bag on top of Jake’s, nearly falling onto the backseat in his haste to get inside. “You guys started eye-fucking each other the moment your gazes met. I swear time slowed down like we were in a romance movie.”
Jake ignored him and turned the key, keeping the car in park so he could remove his jacket and toss it over Riley’s head.
“Hey!”
He moved the car forward, being mindful of the slippery roads as he drove toward the store where Allen worked.
“Ted told me that he texted his wife. She’s already making wedding invitations for you.”
Was he allowed to park on Barrington Street?
“I asked Reed for date ideas, because you seriously need all the help you can get.”
Jake pulled to a stop outside the store and looked in through the window. The lights were too dim for him to see anything.
“Want me to look up rings? What kind of metal do you think he likes?”
What?
Jake yanked his rearview mirror to the side so he could make eye contact with his friend. “What are you rambling on about? I haven’t even gotten his number yet.”
Riley shrugged. “Dude, I’ve known you since we were five years old and breaking sticks over each other’s helmets. I’ve never seen you this interested in anyone, guy or girl.”
So? That didn’t mean he and Allen were going to get married.
Jake wouldn’t say no if Allen walked out of the shop and went down on one knee, but he didn’t think he would be that lucky.
“There’s something about him,” said Riley, and his goofy demeanour shifted into the softer, smoother mask he only wore around Jake. “He’s pretty, but I don’t think it’s just that—not for you.”
Riley knew him too damn well.
But Jake didn’t know words. Hell, he could barely find the right ones to speak half the time. How could he explain to Riley that this was different? How could he tell him when he didn’t know himself?
Riley’s eyes lit up when he smiled. “Oh man, you are so far gone.”
Jake would have told him to fuck off, but the shop door suddenly opened, and Allen scurried outside like he was in the biggest race of his life.
Smiling, Jake rolled down the window, listening to the curses pouring out of his soon-to-be-boyfriend's mouth while he frantically secured the shop door.
“Fucking Metro Transit—”
“Allen.”
Allen gasped and spun around so fast he almost slipped on a patch of snow. It was dark, so Jake clicked the light on and waved, ignoring Riley’s muffled snickers from the backseat.
“What are you—” Allen squinted and lowered his head so their gazes could meet. “Are you waiting for me?”
Was that…a bad thing?
“Let me drive you home,” said Jake.
Allen looked from Jake to the car, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You want me to get in a fucking BMW with a stranger? What if you try to traffic me? I don’t even know your name, for Christ’s sake.”
“It’s Jake. Get in. I turned the heated seat on.”
They had to pause their conversation when a loud, obnoxious bus chose that moment to drive by, honking angrily at Jake for parking where he wasn’t supposed to.
Allen’s eyes followed the bus, his posture slumping and eyes watering from the cold. He gave the bus a final yearning frown before focusing his attention back on Jake.
“I have a knife in my pocket.”
Jake didn’t know why that was relevant, but he didn’t care because Allen shouldered his backpack and strode over to the car, ripping the door open and throwing himself into the seat.
“I live in Fairview. Do you know where that is, rich boy?”
Of course, Jake knew where Fairview was. His father owned half of the real estate in that area.
“Jake, drive,” said Riley. “There’s another bus coming, dude.”
“Dude?” Allen said the word like a question. “You guys are in your thirties and you’re still using dude in your sentences?”
Allen didn’t seem phased by Riley’s presence, so Jake put the car in drive and pulled onto the road.
“Thirties?” Riley scoffed. “We’re twenty-three. Man, I have to stop smoking if it’s aging me enough to look thirty—”
“You’re what?!”