Chapter 10 #3
It’s gonna be fine, was on his phone when he came back from the showers. Just follow my lead.
That did not make Nate feel that much better.
What he should do is demand that they make an actual plan. Set boundaries. Agree on a few very specific instances of PDA—like the hand holding they’d been practicing, for example—and stick to those.
But Nate was stupid and didn’t say anything, just sent Ramsey back a thumbs-up along with a, pick you up at 6:45.
Don’t be too eager, Ramsey teased, the text coming in on his drive back to his condo.
Nate groaned out loud in his car. But there was no way to avoid this, no way to temper it until it became less insane.
That ship had sailed the moment he’d given in to Ramsey’s insanity.
He parked in the garage, took the elevator up to his floor, checking the time as he let himself into his condo.
He had an hour before he had to grab a cab to Wes’ place to pick Ramsey up.
Normally, he’d wear sweatpants and a T-shirt to go to Aidan’s to play video games, but this was supposed to be a date.
He was supposed to be putting in effort for Ramsey—and Ramsey was a guy who looked like that.
Even the guys on the team who had zero ability to dress themselves would be able to look at him and go, yeah, whatcha doing about that, Big Dog?
What was he doing about that? Well, he could throw some jeans on.
He’d just picked out a long-sleeved henley in a dark maroon color that he thought made his arms look pretty good, when there was a knock on his front door.
Nate wasn’t expecting anyone, but after he opened the door to Ramsey, he supposed he should have.
“Hey,” Ramsey said, his smile a small secretive tilt of his lips. “I thought it just made sense for me to come over to your place first.”
Nate wanted to be annoyed, but it was hard to be when Ramsey looked like that. Light blue knit cap pulled down over his blond curls, making his eyes more a stormy gray than blue, and his silver puffer jacket emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.
“At some point I’m going to regret giving your name to the doorman,” Nate grumbled, but Ramsey barely blinked as he ushered him inside.
“It makes sense,” Ramsey continued like he hadn’t said anything, “because if you picked me up, we’d have to bring Wes.”
“You don’t want to third wheel Wes?”
“It feels mean,” Ramsey said softly.
“Oh, because of Wes’ ex?” Nate didn’t know that whole story, but whatever had happened, it seemed Wes was still dealing with the fallout.
“Something like that,” Ramsey said. He held out a six-pack of beer. “And I stopped by the corner store and got us something to bring.”
“Such a good guest,” Nate half-joked. “Maybe I should always take you with me.”
“Maybe you should,” Ramsey said, his chin tilting up towards Nate, the look in his eyes serious.
But that couldn’t be right. Ramsey couldn’t really mean that.
Nate cleared his throat. Not letting himself dwell on a faraway future where he didn’t even have to ask but just took it for granted that when he was invited somewhere, Ramsey would be at his side.
“Thanks,” Nate said. “We don’t have to leave yet—we could watch something on TV—” He’d been considering turning on the Stars Caps game from last night because the recap had seemed pretty good when he’d read about it, but before he could suggest that, despite the high potential for Ramsey giving him shit about watching hockey, Ramsey interrupted him.
“I thought we could also discuss what the plan is,” Ramsey said.
“The plan?”
Ramsey unzipped his jacket and hung it up next to Nate’s much more basic navy blue jacket. “Come on.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “Let’s talk about it.”
Nate wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to just do it either.
He hadn’t decided yet which was going to be worse—the talking or the doing—but apparently Ramsey had already decided.
Nate took a seat on one of the barstools, watching as Ramsey opened Nate’s fridge, humming under his breath as he took in the sparkling water that he’d started stocking since that first time Ramsey had come over.
He pulled out one of those for himself and a beer from Nate’s stock, opening it with a quick flick of his wrist, setting it in front of him.
Was it weird Ramsey was becoming so comfortable in Nate’s space? Nate didn’t know whether he hated it or loved it.
“So,” Ramsey said, taking a sip of his water, “do you have any hard limits?”
Nate wanted to confess that this whole thing was a hard limit; not because he’d dislike it or it would make him painfully uncomfortable, but because he’d like it all too much.
But it was too late to do that. Everyone already thought they were dating, and whether they did this tonight or in a few days or next week, it was happening.
“I don’t know,” Nate said.
“Can I touch you?”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Have I stopped you yet?” They’d held hands. There’d been casual touching when they sat on the couch watching the hockey game. Sure, it had made Nate feel like setting his skin on fire, but he’d done it.
He could handle it again.
Even if it was not casual and more purposeful.
“No.” Ramsey tapped his fingers on the counter. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Nate almost told him to spit it out, but if even Ramsey was worried about voicing something out loud, maybe it was better if he didn’t.
“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Nate mumbled.
But he actually did.
Ramsey shot him a look. “You don’t?” he asked, tone full of disbelief.
And okay, yes. He did. He absolutely fucking did. What had been his first thought when Ramsey had suggested this insane plan?
I can’t do it, not if it’s not real.
“Okay, fair,” Nate conceded gruffly.
“So I can touch you? And you’re going to touch me?”
Nate had been right. Talking about it was actually excruciating.
“Sure,” Nate said.
“What about—”
“No,” Nate said. He couldn’t sit here and listen to Ramsey choreograph all their PDA.
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Ramsey asked a little testily.
“You were going to say, what about kissing, and I was going to say hell no to that suggestion.”
Ramsey made a face.
Nate wondered if he knew why he’d said that, but Nate wasn’t going to go into any kind of detailed explanation. It would be so fucking embarrassing to confess, I can’t fake that, not with you. Not when I want to do it for real.
“You didn’t mind it in June,” Ramsey said, and yeah, sure he hadn’t. He’d fucking loved it.
“This is different,” Nate said stiffly.
“Fair,” Ramsey agreed.
Nate took a long gulp of his beer and was in the middle of swallowing when Ramsey continued with, “What about sex?”
Attempting to clear his throat, Nate wasn’t sure he could breathe. “What about sex?” he finally managed to choke out.
“Are we having it?” Ramsey asked the question in the most casual, blasé voice.
“No.”
A flash of frustration passed over Ramsey’s face. “I meant in our fake relationship, Nathaniel. Obviously.”
“Obviously, yes,” Nate ground out. He added, before he could stop himself, “Do you really think a guy would be dating you and not get you into bed?”
Ramsey tilted his head. “You said it, not me.”
“Exactly.” Nate finished his beer. They had practice tomorrow and he should pace himself.
Be an example for the rest of the guys on the team, but it was hard to imagine getting through the next few hours—Ramsey burying himself even more deeply under his skin, on purpose—and doing it without the hazy veneer of alcohol.
“Then I think that’s everything,” Ramsey said. He took another sip of his sparkling water. “Was there anything specifically you wanted to cover?”
God, Nate hadn’t wanted to cover any of this in the first place, even as he was forced to acknowledge that at least they’d discussed the limits ahead of time.
Ramsey knew his feelings on kissing for their teammates now, at least, and he wouldn’t be blindsided by that.
But he had a feeling Ramsey had already known his stance on that.
Why he’d asked anyway, why he’d specifically gone out of his way to have this conversation .
. .well, Nate didn’t know but he wasn’t stupid enough to ask.
He’d long since learned the lesson that you didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to hear the answers to.
“No, that’s it,” Nate said.
“Alright.” Ramsey plucked Nate’s empty bottle and, draining his own can, rinsed them both out in the sink and threw them away in the recycling bin.
Nate watched this whole thing, wondering how it was, when it was that Ramsey had gotten so comfortable in his condo. He’d only been here a handful of times. But he’d done it, so easy, like he’d absolutely known. Like he’d paid close attention to every detail he could, before.
But again, Nate wasn’t going to ask, because he couldn’t imagine that answer would be any better for his peace of mind.
“You ready to go?” Nate asked instead.
Ramsey nodded, and ten minutes later they were in a cab, heading towards Aidan’s building, which was maybe only a mile away, but it was cold and getting colder. Welcome to Toronto in freaking November.
The car pulled over to the sidewalk, let them out, and as they took the elevator up to Aidan’s floor, Nate found his hand hovering just behind Ramsey.
Instinctually shifting into the kind of mode where he might put a reassuring hand on his back, even if the guys they were going to see weren’t just Nate’s teammates but had become Ramsey’s friends as well.
Found himself asking, “You good?” as they stood in front of Aidan’s door, after knocking.
Ramsey glanced back at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”