13. PARKER
THIRTEEN
PARKER
After walking around New York this morning and then the team winning tonight, I’m in the best mood I’ve been in for a long time. Some of the fog swamping my brain has cleared out for the night, and everything doesn’t feel so generally shitty.
The team will be out celebrating, and I sort of wish I had someone to celebrate with, but while I pushed things with them by catching a ride on the plane, I also know that team celebrations are for the team. Not me. So I won’t be gatecrashing, especially when I know the only reason I’d want to go is to see Connor, and Connor will be busy riding the high of scoring tonight. Probably even hooking up.
So I’m going to do the same.
While I feel generally optimistic about the future, I’m going to go out, pick someone up, and hopefully find some of that intimacy I’ve been craving for the night. It’s the only thing that could make today better than it already is.
I’m staying in the same hotel as the team, but where they have standard rooms booked, I’m in the suite. It sort of feels like the kind of thing a billionaire would do, and I have to make an active decision to ignore how empty it is with only me hanging out .
I shower and manscape, clean myself up, then put extra work into getting ready. My normally fluffy black hair is tamed. I shave off the day’s growth on my face, find some nice pants and a shirt, then cover my nervous sweat in cologne.
The thought of visiting a gay bar crosses my mind, and it’s a toss-up between that and my hookup app. Both of them are pretty impersonal options. Maybe that can be my next project? A hookup app for people who don’t want a relationship but also want a bit more than a quick fuck. A snuggle-bunny type of arrangement. Overnight boyfriends. Fuck like rabbits, then curl up and go to sleep before bouncing the next day.
I’d be as lonely on that app as I am anywhere else because I’d be the only person pathetic enough to use it. Sex should be enough, and I have to be grateful that I can find people who actually want to have sex with me now. Being a virgin until I was nineteen wasn’t a fun time for me.
Instead of drinking alone in my room, I head down to the hotel bar while I decide what I’m going to do later. It’s already busy, and being around people helps me soak up the company.
The tables are full, but there’s a lone stool at the end of the bar that I slide into, order a drink, and look around. Once I got over being scared of people, they started to interest me. Why they make the choices they do, how they see the world, why someone would make the conscious decision to think they’re better than someone else.
I don’t only mean in high school with bullying either. Even here, with men and women both looking to find someone for the night, that choice comes from compatibility and finding someone worth spending that time with.
Or alcohol. Once people drink enough, the rest all goes out the window.
I turn to take another sip of my rum and Coke when a hand slams down on the bar beside me. I jump and almost choke, and when I’m sure I can breathe properly again, I turn to find Connor Kikishkin leaning over me .
He’s standing close, body snugly cutting me off from the person on the stool beside mine, and my knee is touching his outer hip in a way that’s making it hard to remember what words are.
He’s still in his game-day suit, broad shoulders filling it out, top button of his shirt undone and showing off smooth skin. “Fuck me.”
“What was that?” he asks, leaning in closer.
My face flushes as I realize I’ve said that out loud, but the noise of the bar has saved me. “I asked what you’re doing here.”
“The team was heading to the bar down the road, and I saw you sitting all by yourself.”
For some reason, that reminder doesn’t get me down. “Nothing new there.”
“Come with us.”
“There is no way I’m going out with a bunch of jocks.”
“You own the team, man. They’ll all be on their best behavior around you.”
“Even more reason not to go.”
He opens his mouth to push some more.
“That’s a no. You don’t have to do … whatever this is.”
“This …” Connor says, waving the bartender over. “Is called being a friend. We’ll get you used to it soon enough.”
He orders two of what I’m having, and when he takes a sip, his nose scrunches up in a way that’s wildly adorable for a six-foot-three wrecking ball. “What the hell are you drinking?”
“Rum.”
“Isn’t that for old people?”
Even though I probably shouldn’t, I smile. “I’m beginning to think you don’t know how being a friend works either.”
“Fun. We can learn together.” He holds his glass out, and it takes me a moment to work out he wants to do that cheers thing and not that he wants me to take it from him.
I tap my glass against his and manage to do it in a way that looks like I’ve done it before. “Shouldn’t you be going with your team?”
“I have time for a drink with you first. After all, this was your win too.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“Of course it does. Your team. Your win. It works the same for the fans. We play for everyone who can’t and believes in us anyway.”
“That was …”
“Not bad for a jock, huh?”
He needs to stop looking at me like that. All shiny eyes and wide smile. I’m so attracted to him it hurts. All this time I wanted his attention, I had no idea how tortuous that attention could be.
I gulp down the rest of my first drink, and Connor takes a sip of his without cringing this time.
“So if you won’t come with me,” he says, “what are you going to do? Drink alone at the bar all night?”
“Actually …” I tap the hookup app on my phone, and the options around here are many. “I was tossing up between a bar and a hookup. I think it’s getting too late for a bar—I don’t enjoy when everyone around me is blackout drunk—so I’ll probably find someone on here instead.”
Connor leans over my shoulder, way too close, and looks at where my phone is resting on the bar. “There are a lot of butts in those profile pictures.”
“And abs. I like abs.”
I have no idea if he’s looking at me or not, but it feels like he is. Just seeing those mouthwatering pictures and having his scent surround me is making me antsy. At first, I’d wanted to go out for company; now, I really do think I need the sex as well.
After careful consideration, I tap one of the profiles that looks promising and type, “Pic?”
“What’s that for?” he asks .
“You might want to look away.”
“Wh—” A dick pops up on my screen, and Connor jerks back.
It’s a real mission not to laugh as I check out what I have to work with here. If they’re too big, I’d struggle to take him and actually get off, so I always check first. Looks like he’ll do.
I’m writing back when this time, the feel of Connor watching me is too strong to ignore. I bravely look up, meeting his stare. A moment stretches out where I can’t read his expression, but I can’t look away from it either.
“I’m having one of those moments when I realize I’ve made assumptions again,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“Well … you … I guess I didn’t picture you as someone who hooked up.”
That makes me tilt my head curiously. “Why?”
“I dunno, you’re being all … assertive. I’m not used to that.”
“Well, as we’ve established, we don’t really know each other, do we? Sex is a transaction, so I want to make sure I’m getting what I need before going ahead.” Sexually, anyway. What I really need isn’t something I can ask for on a hookup app. It’s always part of the gamble, that we’ll get off and he’ll run, but sometimes they stick around. Usually, a promise of a round two will do it.
“And you need …” He nods toward my phone. “That?”
For some reason, his awkwardness is making me more comfortable. More confident. “A dick usually helps.”
“Of course.”
Then I say more than I probably should. “It might not be everything I want, but for a night, it’ll do.”
“Not big enough?” he teases.
Silly straight boy—everything is a measuring contest to them. “It’s not all about size. But I wasn’t talking about his dick anyway. ”
“Then what else would you want?”
I’m surprised he’d even ask that. For all his awkwardness, it’s more that he’s stumbled on this conversation and isn’t sure how he got here rather than being uncomfortable. “Someone who wants to be around me would be a start. I’d even take someone who will spend the night. As for the other side of things … a guy who’s a top, who—” I quickly cut off, veering on the side of unprofessional.
“Is a bit possessive?”
My eyes snap to his, and the teasing in his gaze lights me up. I didn’t think he caught that when we were talking, but I obviously wasn’t as subtle as I thought. “Can’t give you all my secrets.”
“Thought we were getting to know each other.”
He’s stupidly close, and it’s getting to a point where I really, really need to go. “You don’t need to know that .”
The alert on my phone saves me.
The guy’s in the next hotel over.
“Gotta go.”
Connor’s frown takes over his face. “We’re not done with our drinks.”
I choke mine down in one, trying not to worry about how I gulp or the way liquid dribbles from the corners of my mouth and down my chin. “I’m done. Now you can meet up with the team instead of having a pity drink with me.” I go to turn around when something makes me stop. Before I can chicken out, I set a hand on his arm and add, “Thank you though. It was nice having someone to talk to.”
Then before he can answer the patheticness of that with more pity, I leave. Out of the moody bar, across the brighter foyer, and into the busy New York street. It’s cool enough that I probably should have brought a jacket, but in a few moments, I’ll be out of these clothes anyway.
Joining some guy in his room sounds a lot less fun than sitting in the warm bar talking to Connor, but getting away was the smart choice. No need to scare off the first maybe friend I’ve ever had. I can’t guarantee I won’t be thinking of him the whole time though.
“Parker!”
I pause at my name and turn back, confirming that the voice belonged to Connor. He’s jogging my way, perfect hair a mess, suit jacket tossed over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He tugs me into the shadows between buildings. “Remember how I said I don’t know who I am and you said I should try to figure it out?”
“Yes …”
“Can I try something?”
My mouth is dry. “Ah … yes?”
I’m caught totally off guard when Connor shoves me into the wall. Like the past two times, I go pliant, ready for his anger, that heated glare. But third time lucky, I suppose, because instead of a fist to the face, Connor’s mouth crashes with mine.
I’m in shock for a few seconds, not able to comprehend what he’s doing. He’s kissing me. Not attacking. Kissing .
Shock and excitement spear through me. He smells like aftershave, and his lips move over mine with all the confidence he seems to unknowingly possess.
I arch my neck to reach him, mouth numbly following his lead, and when Connor’s strong tongue sweeps into my mouth, I let out an unwelcome groan at the contact.
My whole head has gone fuzzy, lust pumping through my system, and while I might not know what the hell is going on, I do know that I don’t want it to stop.
Almost as soon as I think that, Connor’s mouth is ripped away with a loud inhale.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters.
He stands there, eyes as wide as mine, his lips parted, and I’m left still trying to figure out if that actually happened or if my fantasies have evolved into full-blown hallucinations.
My fingertips meet my still-wet lips, and slowly, very slowly, it sinks in.
Connor Kikishkin kissed me, and now he’s motionless. Quiet. I’m expecting him to lash out any minute and punch me, put this whole thing on me, and have a straight-boy freak-out.
But then he says something that is so not on the list of things I’m waiting for. “Don’t hook up tonight.”
He ducks his head and walks away, but if he thinks I’m not going to chase him after that, he has no idea of the effect he has on me. None at all.