CHAPTER TWELVE
After Harper’s day with the Harriers, the team had a one-game road trip, then returned to Boston.
Luke didn’t think much more about Sebastian until they were back playing at home, and he caught some blistering chirps from him during his time in the penalty box. Yeah, now that he knew Sebastian had played hockey, that shit made a lot more sense.
Plus, it was a relief knowing nothing had changed between them. As pissed as Luke had been about seeing Sebastian there at the practice arena, it had gone okay.
He could see the little green circle showing that he was online, but it wasn’t until he started the car that he got an answer.
I dunno. Should we?
You tell me.
Has anything changed?
Luke squinted at the screen. Why would it?
Nevermind. Yeah. Come over. I’m on the train now. I’ll leave the back door unlocked for you. Just come in.
The place is closed this time, right? Luke asked, even though it was close to midnight.
Fuck you.
Rather than answer, Luke tucked his phone in his jacket pocket, backed out of the spot, and pointed his car in the direction of Sebastian’s place.
When he reached the shop and saw the name on the window of the back door, he laughed aloud, finally understanding it.
Twig & Bloom. Hockey sticks and flowers.
Sebastian’s legs were still trembling by the time Crawford pulled his hand away. His head swam and he felt a little shaky from the orgasm.
It was probably just the fact that he hadn’t had time to eat dinner before the game and all he’d eaten there was an Italian sausage and a beer.
The shakiness had nothing to do with this moment they’d had, when Crawford was working his hand over Sebastian’s cock.
Their gazes had met, and Sebastian had thought about kissing him.
And fuck, so what if he did? He’d kissed plenty of hookups before. A kiss didn’t have to mean anything. It hadn’t the last twenty times so why the fuck would it matter now? With … him.
Only he couldn’t get the sight of Harper clinging to Crawford’s neck, or the way he’d made her laugh, out of his head.
Or the fact that it had looked like Crawford had wanted to kiss him too.
Crawford reached for a tissue and wiped off his hand. “So, what did you play?”
Sebastian squinted at him. “Huh?”
“I asked what you played.”
He glanced over toward the corner of his living room where he listened to records all the time. “Musically?”
“Fucking hockey, dude.”
“Oh.” Sebastian shifted, doing up his trousers. “Uhh, I was a left winger.”
“Huh.”
“What does that mean?”
Crawford shrugged. “I dunno. Just fits. How far did you make it?”
“Juniors.”
“Why’d you quit? Injury?”
“No. I was a gay guy who was into flowers. It was pretty goddamn clear hockey and I weren’t a good fit long-term.” His words came out a little more snappish than he intended.
Crawford lifted an eyebrow. “I mean, there are lots of guys out in the league now.”
Sebastian sighed, the sweet mellow of his usual post-sex haze fading a lot more quickly than he’d like. “Yeah, now. But think about what it was like when you were sixteen. We’re pretty much the same age, okay? You were a draft year ahead of me. You do the math.”
“Huh.” Crawford looked at him with a frown. “You’re thirty-three?”
“Yes. My age was on my profile on the app where we, uh, met,” Sebastian pointed out. If they ignored the fact he’d spent a couple of years chirping Crawford relentlessly before that.
“Lots of guys on there lie.”
“Sure,” Sebastian agreed. “But how old did you think I was then?”
“I dunno. Never really thought about it.”
“Do you think about much?”
“Not if I can help it.” Crawford let out a groan and stretched, his shoulder popping. “I should get going.”
“Okay.”
But Crawford didn’t move. He squinted at Sebastian instead. “So, you quit because guys were … what? Hazing you?”
“No,” Sebastian said shortly. He got up and walked over to the kitchen, pulling the refrigerator door open.
The cool air felt nice. He was still a little flushed and sweaty from the orgasm.
“I mean some, yeah. But mostly it was just … I knew I didn’t belong, okay?
I could see it. Feel it. I was the weird kid.
The one who didn’t fit. I wasn’t—I wasn’t one of them. ”
He rummaged in his refrigerator, scowling when he realized he had nothing but leftover Dan Dan noodles from the Chinese place down the street. Delicious, but he probably should eat a vegetable or two occasionally.
His diet had been kind of appalling lately. This was what happened when he got buried in work.
Sebastian pulled the takeout carton out anyway because his rumbling stomach really didn’t give a shit about what he put inside it. Just as long as it was something. Sebastian dumped the cold spicy noodles into a big bowl. Oh, hey, there was some bok choy in there. That was a green, leafy vegetable.
“You got any more of those?” Crawford asked.
Sebastian glanced up to see Crawford sprawled on his couch, arms stretched out along the cushions like he owned the place. “You want me to feed you too?”
“I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“I wasn’t offering …” Sebastian pointed out with a huff, then pulled out a bowl, dumping half the noodles into it. “There. Come get it if you want it.”
Crawford heaved himself up with a groan, then ambled over.
Sebastian had never really noticed it before but he kinda walked like a cowboy who’d been on his horse too long.
“You’re not even going to heat it up?” Crawford asked as Sebastian reached for chopsticks, then dug into his late-night dinner. Such as it was.
“No.” He could heat them, but … meh. He liked them cold just fine and the microwave would take too long. Besides, this would annoy Crawford more, which was always a plus in his book.
“Cold, man,” Crawford said, reaching for the bowl.
“That’s the idea,” Sebastian said around another mouthful.
“You got something to eat it with?”
Sebastian huffed and pulled open a drawer. “Chopsticks or fork?”
He reached for the fork before he even finished asking but Crawford grabbed the chopsticks. Their fingers brushed and Sebastian pulled away like he’d been scalded.
“There. You happy now?”
Crawford gave him a smirk and leaned against the counter. “Good thing you don’t own a restaurant. The service here is fucking terrible.”
Sebastian hopped up on the counter. “That’s not what you said when I was choking on your dick earlier.”
“Naw, your cocksucking’ll get a five-star rating. I mean the rest.”
“Thanks.” Sebastian rolled his eyes and reached for his bowl again.
Crawford slurped noodles and ate for a few minutes before he asked, “So you quit because you didn’t fit in?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Sebastian glanced up from his food.
“Dunno. Just … surprised me. I never thought of you as a hockey player until now.”
Sebastian shrugged. He’d loved the game with every fiber of his being. Still did. Maybe he had mixed feelings about the sport and the league at times but he loved the game.
“Would you have gotten drafted?”
Sebastian hesitated. “There was some talk of it. Not very high. Probably sixth, seventh round or whatever. But yeah, it was possible.”
“Damn. I was undrafted. Can’t fucking believe you threw that chance away.”
Sebastian shrugged because it hadn’t felt like throwing a chance away. It had felt like the only way he could be himself. Still, it hadn’t been easy.
“You ever regret quitting?”
Sebastian looked away. “Maybe occasionally. Most days I’m very happy with my career choices.”
They ate quietly for a few minutes.
Well, Sebastian ate quietly. Crawford slurped.
And fine, maybe that was considered appropriate and even complimentary in Chinese culture but Sebastian kinda had his doubts that Crawford was concerned about being appropriate in any culture.
“I’m thinkin’ of opening up a bar after retirement.”
Sebastian glanced up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Some place low-key with a lot of regulars. The kind where the bartenders know your name.”
Sebastian laughed. “If you’re not careful, they’ll turn you into a sitcom.”
“Never thought I’d get compared to Ted Danson.”
“You’re better looking,” Sebastian blurted out. He immediately regretted it. Why the fuck had he said that?
“Oh, am I?” The lazy smirk Crawford gave him was, unfortunately, kinda hot.
Sebastian shrugged. “Well, you’d look better if you washed your hair a little more but …”
Crawford scowled. “What the fuck is wrong with my hair?”
“Dude, it’s kinda limp and greasy looking most of the time.”
“I fuckin’ wash it twice a goddamn day.” Crawford set his empty bowl on the counter, one of the chopsticks falling and clattering onto it.
“Have you tried shampoo?” Sebastian asked.
Crawford crossed his arms over his chest. “Fuck off.”
“I don’t hate the tattoos though,” Sebastian admitted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t mind seeing them sometime.”
Crawford lifted a brow. “You tryin’ to get me naked?”
Sebastian shrugged. “If you’re into that.”
“Are we talking about me fucking you?”
“We could be.”
Crawford wet his lips. “Yeah, we could do that sometime. I’m not used to the—well, whatever the fuck this is.”
Sebastian laughed. “I’d say friends with benefits but we’re definitely not friends.”
“You’ve got that right.”
But there was something almost … friendly about this conversation. At least compared to their past interactions. It was mellower. Like they were both less prickly. Less on edge.
“If you wanna fuck me, I’m up for it. Just let me know ahead of time,” Sebastian said. “I prefer to … prepare for that. If you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Just wanted to be sure.”
“You do whatever makes you comfortable,” Crawford said with a shrug. “I’ll bring the condoms.”
Sebastian almost said, “It’s a date,” but he caught himself at the last moment. “It’s a deal,” he said instead.
“Alright.” Crawford straightened. “I’m gonna get out of here. Thanks for the noodles, or whatever.”
“Sure.”