CHAPTER SIX
The day after the Dallas vs. Harriers game, Sebastian woke up early and put on running clothes. He ate something light, then let himself out of the building.
The sky was still dark, the air cold and crisp as he walked to the nearby park.
Once inside it, he stretched a little, then set off at a light jog.
He liked running, liked the way it cleared his head and blew off the fog of sleep and stress.
It was a great way to get rid of his frustrations and come up with solutions to problems.
At the moment, he was pointedly ignoring the fact that his message to Crawford had gone unanswered last night. Oh, it had been seen. Just not replied to.
He felt like an idiot.
Only, he’d been feeling stressed last night.
It had been one of those annoying days with tons of little interruptions and issues.
Supply chain shit and a rude customer, along with three fruitless interviews.
The one guy he’d met with couldn’t seem to grasp the idea of showing up on time or communicating about it.
And the others just didn’t have the skills or availability needed for the positions.
So, Sebastian was back to square one.
And then on the way to the game, Brie texted Sebastian to unload some of the divorce shit she was dealing with from her ex-husband’s lawyer. Sebastian had been happy to listen, but it had only added to his foul mood.
And fine … maybe it had been a bad idea to send the message to Crawford in the first place, but at the time, it hadn’t seemed that crazy. After all, they’d managed to act totally normal during last night’s game.
And well, they’d both complained about what a pain the apps could be …
Sebastian had thought maybe Crawford would be up for it one of those mutually advantageous situations where they hooked up occasionally. It would take way less effort than finding someone new every time.
But no. The asshole had read the message and ignored it.
Which was not a great feeling. Not because Sebastian was heartbroken, he didn’t even fucking like the guy.
But it was a prick to his ego, annoying, and, frankly, rude.
Sebastian really shouldn’t have been surprised though. After all, he knew what a dick Crawford could be. He shouldn’t take it personally.
So by the time he slowed to a jog and left the park, he’d decided two things.
One, he wasn’t going to worry about Crawford again. He’d just focus on finding someone else to get off with. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hot as the hate sex he’d had with Crawford but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with his obnoxiousness anymore. There were some upsides to his plan.
Two, he was going to see if maybe he was doing something wrong with his job postings.
Maybe what had worked in New York didn’t work in Boston.
Time to try something different, right?
The following night, the Harriers played Arizona. As Sebastian settled into his seat, he was looking forward to the game. He was going to act exactly the way he had before the first hookup. He was going to pretend he didn’t know what it was like to choke on Crawford’s dick.
It was a tight game, with Arizona retaliating after every Harriers goal and the teams were tied 4–4 when Crawford took a double minor penalty for slashing in the second period.
Unlike last time, Crawford didn’t even look at Sebastian as he went into the penalty box and took a seat.
It was fine. Sebastian was unbothered. Moisturized. Happy. In His Lane. Focused. Flourishing. Just like that meme.
He could pretend like Crawford didn’t even exist …
And yet, as Crawford stripped off his gloves and pushed up the sleeves of his jersey, revealing some of his tattoos, a stupid little curl of lust bloomed low in Sebastian’s belly.
From where he sat, he could see the sweat trickling down the back of Crawford’s neck and meandering over the thick silver chain he wore before disappearing under his jersey.
Sebastian swallowed, his mouth dry at the thought of licking across his skin.
It would be weird if he didn’t chirp him now, right? People were used to it. It had become kind of a thing on social media and the other season ticket holders around him were super into it, often rating his chirps.
“Hey, Crawford,” Sebastian called out. “You’re so ugly your tattoo artist did humanity a service by covering all that up. Shame he couldn’t do a thing about your face.”
It wasn’t one of Sebastian’s best and it felt like a little bit of a low blow to drag a guy’s appearance, but he still saw Crawford’s glove tighten on his stick.
Sebastian smiled. Bingo. It was always nice to have a chirp land right and apparently the person next to him agreed, because they laughed and high-fived him.
And okay, maybe Sebastian wasn’t as unbothered as he had hoped to be. Damn it, it still smarted that Crawford had ignored his earlier message. And okay, maybe it was a bit sad and pathetic to let someone he didn’t even like impact his mood that way, but he’d thought they’d had fun that first night.
It honestly hadn’t seemed that unhinged to give it another shot.
Sebastian glanced over at Crawford to see him looking grimly ahead. Sometimes he responded to the chirps and sometimes he didn’t. Didn’t look like it was going to happen with this one.
He looked pissed right now, his jaw set under his short beard, his eyes narrowed.
Sebastian idly wondered if his chirp had hit the mark a little too hard when Crawford rose to his feet with a roar of frustration. The crowd roared too, and Sebastian realized Arizona had scored a goal to pull ahead.
Sebastian rose to his feet, clapping and whistling and got a few dirty looks from Harriers fans around him. Okay, not everyone in this section was a huge fan of him, but whatever.
Crawford was out of the box now, a pissed-off expression on his face as he skated to the bench across the ice. Sebastian watched as Crawford hunkered in, head down, and his head coach, Hoyt Kent, bent over to talk in his ear.
The little talk ended with a pat to the shoulder and Crawford lifted his head and looked up.
Unfortunately, the width of the ice was too wide for Sebastian to see his face. Too bad. He would have liked to thank Crawford for the goal.
The game ended in a 5–4 loss for the Harriers.
The crowd was noticeably subdued as Sebastian hurried to the train station and managed to squeeze in beside some Harriers fans, who gave him a confused look at his New York jersey.
Sebastian just smiled.
After the train had made a couple of stops and the car had cleared out a little, Sebastian pulled up his hookup app.
He pointedly ignored the unanswered message to Crawford he’d sent the other day and checked a couple he’d gotten from other guys lately.
None of the messages or profiles were particularly inspiring, so he searched to see who was available now.
Nothing that exciting there either, damn it.
Sebastian had just resigned himself to the idea of getting off on his own tonight when a message popped up. He nearly dropped his phone when he saw it was from Crawford.
In response to the, Want to do this again? Sebastian had sent a few days ago, he got, You do?
Sebastian frowned. He didn’t want to appear too eager or anything but damn it was tempting … He could pretend all he wanted that another guy would scratch the itch just as well, but honestly? The other night had been a top-tier hookup.
Not the best sex of his life but definitely the best he’d had with someone he’d never been with before. And if they hooked up again and it was even better …
Thinking about it, he sent, a prickle of anticipation already crossing his skin.
It’s a fuckin stupid idea, you know that right?
Is it? Sebastian shot back. Look, we don’t like each other but that didn’t stop us from getting off hard the last time. And we agreed this app is shit for meeting people. And like, I’m not gonna fucking tell anyone who you are. Can you be sure the next guy will do the same?
There was no answer for a while and Sebastian jiggled his knee, annoyed and pent-up and frustrated.
Leave it to fucking Luke Crawford to make even a simple hookup way more difficult than it needed to be.
He was nearing his stop when, Fuck it. Let’s do it. Same deal as before? appeared on his screen.
Yeah. Meet me in twenty minutes or so? I caught the first train so I’m nearly back.
Crawford sent back, ’K.
“Asshole,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, but he was smiling faintly as he tucked his phone in his jacket pocket and stood, squeezing between a couple more Harriers fans to get to the door with that feeling of anticipation burning low in his belly.
If they only knew what he was about to do tonight …
Sebastian went through the same routine as before, although he did grab the lube this time. He debated for a moment, then put the bottle back in his bedroom, knowing Crawford would give him shit about it. The banter was half the fun, right? The tension. The dislike.
It wasn’t the only thing Sebastian could do to rile Crawford up either. He grabbed his jersey where he’d draped it over a chair and put it on again.
There. Perfect.
Downstairs, Sebastian paced the small shop, nearly knocking over a potted orchid at the corner of the counter as he cut the corner a little short. He caught it, realizing he probably should’ve just told Crawford to come straight up and lock the door behind him.
But Sebastian wasn’t sure he wouldn’t leave it wide open, just to be spiteful. Which, unfortunately, was also part of the appeal.
A therapist would have a fucking field day with me, Sebastian thought wryly, though it was a small consolation that Crawford was probably even more screwed up than he was.
A few moments later, the door handle jiggled, and Sebastian cursed when he realized he hadn’t unlocked it. He strode over, twisting the latch, and the second he got the door open, Crawford shoved past him, nearly knocking him over.
“What’s your hurry?” Sebastian asked with a laugh. “That eager to get—”