Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grayson
I miss my crooked house and hearing Zolkov’s snarky comments. I miss my local coffee shop and the way the barista always spelled my name with an E instead of an A. There are a surprising number of things I’m homesick for, but the worst of all is Remy Stone. And how foolish is that—missing a man who wasn’t mine while I was in Calgary, and is even less mine now.
And now, standing in front of my mirror, I miss him with a ferocity that feels like an actual physical weight on my shoulders. For the dozenth time tonight, I tell myself I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can hardly cancel less than an hour before I’m supposed to meet him at the restaurant, and it’s not like I have a very good excuse anyway. Sorry, Matt, I can’t actually go out with you because I wish you were Remy Stone— absolutely ridiculous.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I try to shake off my sour mood. I have to go because I agreed to go. One date with a stranger won’t kill me, even if it feels like a betrayal.
As though I’ve summoned him, my phone buzzes with a text message from Remy. He wants to know when I’ll be free for our phone call tonight, and I want so badly to tell him now, and then spend the night chatting with him.
Grayson
Hey, maybe 10, my time?
Remy
Why so late?? Hot date with a bartender?
Grayson
Yeah.
I stare at my phone, waiting for a reply and almost wishing he wouldn’t. When Matt had given me his number the other night, I hadn’t even entertained the thought of calling him. Why waste both of our times when I am clearly hung up on a sexy blond surfer? But then Remy had said I should go out with him, and the utter indifference in his voice had been an unwelcome wake-up call.
Our friends-with-benefits situation had been exclusive while we were in the same country, but that no longer applied with so much distance between us. Message received, loud and clear.
Even so, I hadn’t wanted to go out with Matt. I still don’t. But I can’t take another two years alone, and if Remy isn’t a long-term option, I need to try and move on. The only way to do that is to date.
Remy
You don’t have to call me if you’re busy tonight. We can catch up tomorrow.
Maybe I’m a fool, but I can’t give up all of him just yet. I like knowing I’ll hear his voice once a day, and sometimes even see his face. He feels that much closer and it’s a closeness I’m selfish enough to want to keep for a little while more. If phone calls are all he can offer right now, I’m going to squeeze all the enjoyment out of them that I can.
Grayson
I’ll call you tonight, okay? 10. I won’t be late.
I stare at the screen, waiting, but there is no indication a reply is forthcoming. It isn’t until I’m parking my car at the restaurant that my phone buzzes. I shouldn’t check it before going inside, not when I know it’s Remy, but before I can even make the conscious decision to do so, my fingers swipe open my lock screen.
Remy
Have fun.
Feeling oddly let down, I take a deep, fortifying breath and go inside, pushing all thoughts of Remy Stone as far away as I possibly can.
Matt is already seated when I walk in the door and he raises a hand in greeting. I pick my way carefully through the crowd until I’m standing next to his table. He stands as I approach, puts a hand on my shoulder and kisses my cheek. I fake a smile I don’t feel, and surreptitiously wipe the back of my hand across my face when he looks away because kissing feels like cheating on Remy .
Matt is a good-looking guy: brown hair and eyes, tall and slim with a runner’s build. He’s got a piercing in the front of his nose and earrings in both ears. When he was working at the bar the other night, he was wearing a layer of eye makeup that was ridiculously attractive. He also had no trouble at all telling me he was interested and then asking me out. When I told him my name, he had no clue who I was. I should like Matt. I should want to date Matt. Matt is, very obviously, a catch.
But Matt is not Remy, so I have no interest in him.
The conversation is easy between us throughout dinner, and while I am having a good time, my mind is split between paying attention to my date and worrying about what time it is. I don’t want to be later than ten—I promised Remy I’d call him by then.
“You’re not into this, are you?” Matt asks, putting an elbow on the table and leaning a cheek into his hand.
“What? Of course, I am,” I protest, even though it’s a big fat lie. I am so not into this. He smiles and raises an eyebrow at me. I sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re a great guy. I’m just not in the right place for this.”
I gesture at the table between us apologetically. He smiles again, eyes kind in the dim light of the restaurant. He signals to the waiter to bring us another pair of drinks, and leans toward me over the table.
“So, is it me or is it you?”
I laugh. “Me. Definitely me.”
“In love with someone else?” he asks, but the grin slides from his face at whatever he sees on mine. “Ah. Unrequited love, huh? So, is he a straight guy, a married guy, or unaware of your existence?”
“Those are the choices, huh? ”
“I’m a bartender, so I hear it all. Those seem to be the top offenders more often than not.” Matt shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. I feel a pang of longing as I look at him. Things would probably be a hell of a lot easier if I could be attracted to him and not Remy.
“Well, he falls somewhere on the queer spectrum, so not straight. Not married. And definitely aware of my existence, but maybe not in the way I want him to be. We’re just friends.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and sounds like he actually means it. “That’s tough.”
“It’s okay. It is what it is.” I shrug. Wishing for more with Remy won’t get me anywhere, and I’ll only make myself more miserable by complaining about it.
Matt and I spend another half hour at the table swapping dating horror stories. By the time we go our separate ways, I’m happy I didn’t cancel but still relieved that I don’t have to go through the song and dance of seeing him again. It’s disconcerting how excited I am to get home and call Remy, when I was just on a date with somebody right in front of me and couldn’t have cared less. I am so screwed.
At 10 p.m. on the dot I take one more look in the mirror, tucking a few stray hairs back into place, and pull up his contact. Remy takes so long to answer, my stomach sinks all the way to my toes and I’ve got my thumb hovering over the End Call button seconds before his face fills the screen. I heave a sigh of relief. We haven’t gone a single day without speaking since I moved here, and I don’t mean to break that streak tonight.
“Hey,” I breathe.
“How was your date?” Remy asks testily, mouth turned down in a small frown .
“Started as a date, ended as an agreement to go our separate ways.”
“Oh.” I can literally see the way these words perk him up. For a second, I think he’s going to smile, but then his forehead wrinkles with confusion and he squints his eyes at me. “Wait, why?”
“I wasn’t interested.”
“Oh,” he repeats, biting his lip and turning his head away slightly. I hold the phone a little closer to my face, staring at the indent his teeth are making in that full lower lip. Calgary is so, so far away. “Well, I’m sorry.”
It’s the least convincing I’m sorry I’ve ever heard, and it makes me smile. “I’m not.”
Remy reaches up and scrubs a hand back and forth through his hair, face tipped downward so I can’t see his expression. I bring the screen even closer, narrowing my eyes as I try to take in each minuscule part of his appearance—drinking him in like a starving man being presented with a feast. I suck in a sharp breath, feeling like someone reached into my chest cavity and squeezed my lungs in their fists. He’s wearing my clothes.
“Is that my hoodie?” I ask, and immediately have to clear my throat. My voice is scratchy, like I haven’t spoken in days.
“Yeah.” Remy looks down and plucks at the front of the hoodie sheepishly. “I might have borrowed it while you were packing.”
“Borrowed, huh?”
“I appropriated it. You don’t need it, after all, since you have to wear Colorado stuff now. I was doing you a favor, honestly.”
Laughing, I wait until he gives me a crooked smile before clicking the buttons on the side of my phone to take a screenshot. Remy probably heard the noise and can figure out what I did, but I don’t care. What I care about is having photographic proof of Remy looking adorable in my too-big clothes. If he wears it enough, it might smell faintly of coconut.
“You definitely did me a favor,” I agree. “I’d have left more behind if I knew I’d be seeing it all on you.”
He smiles, the left side of his mouth kicking up higher than the right the way it always does. The way I love. It fades quickly, though, and he bites his lip once more, looking preoccupied. I wait, knowing that he’ll let me know what’s bothering him when he’s ready and content to just stare at him until that time comes.
“Gray?”
“Mm?”
“Do you want to come to California with me over All-Star Weekend?”
I blink at him. The words tumbled out so quickly it didn’t sound like there was a single space to be had between them. There’s a slight blush creeping across his cheeks as though he’s embarrassed for having blurted it out that way.
“What if you get invited to All-Star?”
He scoffs. “Please. I’m a solid middle-of-the-pack player. Guys like me don’t get invited to All-Star. I’ve already got a flight booked to go home for the long weekend. You should join me.”
Images of Remy underneath the California sun flood my system. Blond hair and dark skin making his hazel eyes pop. His tan lines would become more pronounced and his skin would taste like saltwater. Maybe we’d spend all day at the beach and go home covered in sand. The sun would get to kiss his skin during the day, but he’d be mine at night .
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I wasn’t sure. You can meet my mom and Alex, maybe.”
I’m trying not to get too excited, because even though this sounds a lot like “meeting the family,” I still don’t believe Remy and I are on the same page where our relationship is concerned. He’s still comfortable with friends with benefits, while I’m ready to commit. Hell, I’ve been ready since the first time we kissed outside of the nightclub.
“Okay.” I nod, trying to keep my cool and not sound too ecstatic. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
He brightens, smile stretching from ear to ear and crinkling the corners of his eyes. That smile is like a punch straight to the throat. Christ, he’s pretty .
“Yeah?” he repeats excitedly. “Great. I’ll teach you to surf!” He laughs when he sees my expression, camera shaking in his hand. “Okay, fine, I’ll do a little surfing and you can just float. Holy shit, this is going to be great. Have you ever been to California before?”
“I’m not sure if you know this about me, but I play hockey in the NHL. I’m kind of a big deal.”
“Shut the fuck up, Big Deal. I meant , have you visited anything in California other than your hotel and the rink?” I shake my head no and his excitement ramps up. “This is going to be the best. I’ll plan everything out, all you have to do is show up.”
He leans off to the side out of the view of the camera, shuffling around for something in the background. When he comes back into view, he’s holding his laptop.
“Okay,” he says, running a hand through his hair haphazardly. “Let’s book your ticket.”
“Remy.” I laugh. “I can get my own ticket. ”
He ignores this. “We both have a game on Tuesday before All-Star, but then we’re off until the following Wednesday. Fuck yes , this is going to work perfectly! Do you want to do a red-eye on Tuesday, or would you prefer a flight early, Wednesday morning? Let’s look at both options, just to explore all avenues. We need as much time together as possible, so, in a perfect world, we’d both fly in around?—”
He rambles on, face lit up by the screen of his laptop as he taps the keys. His brow is furrowed and he touches his top lip with his pointer finger when he thinks. Fucking adorable.
“Gray?”
“Mm? Sorry.” I shake myself out of my stupor. “What was that?”
“There’s a flight that gets in an hour before mine. It would be an overnight, but…” He trails off, waiting for me to veto the long travel day, or agree that we need to book it so that we have the most time together. There’s no question.
“Overnight. I don’t mind getting right back on a plane after a game, as long as I get to see you on the other side.”
If I thought his smile had been bright before, it was nothing compared to now. He’s going to put the sun out of a job if he keeps it up.
“Oh, and, Gray? I only have one bedroom—my bedroom—which means there’s only one bed. We’ll have to share.”
I fight the grin that wants to appear at that. I’m pretty sure he told me his beach house has no less than four bedrooms, as well as a full gym complete with a two-lane lap pool. I nod solemnly, letting him get away with this one.
“Sharing a bedroom it is, then. You won’t hear any arguments from me.”
“Your bartender won’t mind?” he asks waspishly, mouth tracking downward once more into a frown as he scowls. This time, I lose the battle against my smile. He’s jealous and I am so fucking here for it.
“The bartender—whose name is Matt, by the way—isn’t in the picture. We had dinner one time and that will be the only time. You don’t have to worry about him, Remy, we’re not together, nor will we ever be.”
“I’m not worried,” he says, so quickly it can only be a lie. “You can date, obviously. You should go on dates. If you want. Or not, that’s fine, too.” The blush is back, coloring his cheeks and visible even through the tan he’s held on to in the months he’s been in Canada. “But we’re sleeping in the same bed when you come visit, so don’t go finding yourself a partner in the meantime.”
I’m not sure if he meant that to sound threatening or not, but it came out more pleading than anything. I want to reach through the screen and touch him so badly my fingers burn with the ache. Is he insinuating what I think he is, or am I just projecting what I want him to mean? It sounds like he’s jealous and he wants us to uphold the exclusivity we promised each other while we were fooling around. It sounds like he doesn’t want me to find a partner , because that’s what he wants to be.
Be careful , I warn myself, curious guys don’t stay curious forever. Don’t turn this into more than it is.
“Do you…do you want to only see each other for the time being?” I ask carefully, watching his face closely. “Our teams play each other back-to-back coming up here in January, and we could get together then. And talk on the phone, still, like we already are…”
I try to word it as judiciously as I can. Reading between the lines, I’m asking him to be in a relationship with me, without actually saying the words. I can’t say the words, not to him. If there is one thing he’s been vocal about since I’ve met him, it’s his desire to not be tied back down into a committed relationship, and I don’t think that’s shifted. No matter how much I want to give a real relationship a try with him, it’s not my place to ask him to change.
“Could we?” His voice has a hopeful lilt to it that sends my pulse skyrocketing. “For now? I just…I think I need a little time to think about some things. We could talk in Cali. In person.”
“Sure.” Yes, yes, yes. Fucking yes.
“Okay.” He sighs, and then smiles at me in a relieved sort of way. “Thanks.”
I laugh. How ridiculous—him thanking me even though I’m the one who just won the damn lottery. He shuffles to the side again, putting his laptop away, before rising from wherever he’d been sitting and shakily picking up the phone. I get a view of his face from below as he walks through his apartment.
“Where are we going?” I ask, stretching out more comfortably on my bed and tucking an arm behind my head to keep it elevated. He laughs, but doesn’t say anything until he puts the phone down and fiddles with it a little bit. Once he’s got it where he wants it, he backs up enough for me to see that we’re in his bedroom.
“How do you feel about phone sex, Gray?”
“You going to make fun of me if I admit I’ve never tried?”
“Nope.” He grins a tad wickedly. “But I am going to strip down, and if you just happen to enjoy watching, and want to take things further…” He shrugs and takes a measured step back from the camera before untying the laces on his joggers. With his other hand, he slides the hem of his shirt up an inch, baring a slim line of tan belly .
He’s not even partially undressed yet and my dick is already plumping up. Grinning, I settle in; unwilling to take my eyes off of him for a second and content to just watch for now.