14. CONNOR
FOURTEEN
CONNOR
Shit, shit, what was that?
Parker’s calling my name, but it only rings in my ears.
I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I miss the entrance to the team’s hotel, so I keep walking. I weave in and out of people, my long legs able to move me at a quick pace.
I get a block before Parker catches up to me and another half a block before I finally stop. And the only thing to get me to do that is the hitch in his voice when he says, “ Please .”
It’s busier on the street here than it was back there. Where I did something … something I never thought I’d do, want to do, or enjoy as much as I did.
I don’t even know where the courage came from to do that. All I could think about in the moment was Parker’s mouth on someone else’s and the image of that dick pic on his phone.
When he said he was going to hook up, a voice in my head said, “But you can’t.” Like it wanted some kind of claim over him, which is ridiculous because Parker is allowed to hook up with whoever he wants. Just because I’ve had a couple of confusing thoughts over the guy, it doesn’t give me any right to him .
He let me kiss him, but now that it’s over, I’m realizing how inappropriate it was.
Before Parker can say anything, I beat him to it.
“I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened, and I shouldn’t have told you not to hook up. You should go. I’ll be fine. I … I wasn’t thinking, and that was inappropriate, and now you’re probably going to doubly fire me, and?—”
“Connor,” Parker says calmly. He steps closer to me, and then someone bumps past him. “Breathe.”
It’s hard to do that with him around, but I try. As much as Parker will always be the guy I knew in high school first and my team owner second, what I did is sinking in, and it’s not landing well. Perspective or not, he is the team owner. He owns my career. And Easton’s. And I just kissed him.
“Come back to the hotel with me,” he says.
The desire to kiss him again barrels into me because I couldn’t process what I was doing the first time, but the fear of him thinking I now want more keeps me frozen to my spot.
What’s going to happen if we’re seen going into his hotel room? What does he think is going to happen once we get in there? Vulnerability isn’t my strong suit, and right now, it’s all I have. The seed of distrust that has always been there since Parker showed up in my life again rears its ugly head.
As if reading my mind, he adds, “We’re going to talk. Or, more specifically, you’re going to talk.”
“I am?” I croak.
“You’re obviously going through something, and like you said the other night, you don’t really have anyone else to talk to because your brother and best friend are shacking up, so I’m all you have. This really isn’t something you should hold inside.”
There he goes, reminding me that he’s a good person, and my overthinking makes me an idiot. I so desperately want to go back with him, but … I’m scared. No, not scared. Well, not of him. Maybe nervous. I’m angry that I’ve gone this long without even having an inkling that kissing a man might be so mething I’m into, let alone paying attention to what I want or need. Instead, I did everything my parents and brothers needed. There’s a good chance if I go with Parker back to his hotel room and face all of these confusing thoughts, I’ll only resent everything even more when I find out the truth.
That kiss turned everything upside down, but considering my life was already upside down, does that mean it’s now the right way up? Or maybe my life is in the universe’s tumble dryer at the moment.
“We’ll just talk,” Parker says. “No pressure.”
I finally get the balls to look at him. His features are soft, his blue eyes empathetic. Or maybe they’re full of pity. “And no getting in trouble for kissing the team’s owner?”
“No one will ever know. I promise.”
I slowly relent and turn back toward the hotel. “I really am sorry for doing that.”
“Don’t be.”
I look over at him walking next to me. The tip of his ear is pink, and he’s staring at the ground. The last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable, so I try to be light-hearted as I say, “Now who’s the one giving the pity friendship?”
His gaze flicks up to mine, and I get lost in his expression. It’s no longer holding that tinge of empathy. His eyes are full of something else. Something I can’t pinpoint.
We reach the entrance to the hotel, and I follow him into the foyer. We’re silent as we head for the elevators, but as soon as the doors close behind us and Parker hits the button for his floor, he turns back to me.
“Just so you know, I didn’t tell you not to be sorry for kissing me out of pity. I said it because you don’t need to be sorry. At all. I’m not.”
Butterflies erupt deep in my gut, and my cock stirs.
Our kiss was so quick that my dick didn’t have time to register what was happening before a full freak-out happened.
“Y-you liked kissing me?” I ask .
He hates me. Or hated me. I was a terrible person to him. Why would he be okay with me throwing myself at him?
We reach his floor, and as the elevator dings, he says, “Saved by the bell.”
It’s not until we get to his door that I realize how this could be perceived by someone else. What if one of the team comes by and sees me going into the owner’s suite?
None of those thoughts ran through my mind while I cornered him in an alley and kissed him, but this …
“Connor,” he says again in the exact same way he did down on the street. He opens his mouth to tell me to breathe again, but I do it before he can tell me.
I take in an exaggerated big breath.
“Good boy.” He opens the door and holds it for me to walk in first.
The suite is big. Big for New York, anyway. It has a sitting place, a kitchen, and a separate bedroom. It’s a palace. It’s probably the most expensive room in the whole hotel.
It’s really difficult to see Parker as a billionaire. I thought I had wealth, but this is a whole new level.
My image of billionaires probably doesn’t match at all with real billionaires though. I think of them like aging white guys from old money, but with the start-up boom, they’re now everyday guys in their twenties.
“This is a nice place,” I say.
“The best money can buy.” His tone doesn’t match his words. I think he’s going for proud, but it comes across more … factual. Impersonal.
He walks over to the minibar and pulls out two wineglasses and a bottle of champagne from the fridge.
When he pours them and brings a glass over to me, I eye it. Not because I think it’s spiked or I don’t want to drink it. It just feels very … date-ish. And from the outside, this situation is pretty fucked-up .
Player kisses team owner. Team owner invites player up to his apartment. It’s … inappropriate.
If Easton were in my position, I’d want to kick his and Parker’s ass. I’d be pissed. Or old me would be pissed.
Even though I know it’s inappropriate and I shouldn’t be here, there’s no way in hell I’m going to leave.
I take the glass and sip it.
He moves to the plush couch, but I hesitate because if I go sit next to him, will he think I’m asking for more?
I can’t wrap my head around kissing another man, let alone doing anything else with one.
Either I’m really easy to read, or maybe he knows what I’m going through because he says, “You can sit anywhere you like. And like I’ve already said, we’re here to talk.”
I want to sit next to him. Hell, I wouldn’t mind kissing him again so I could actually pay attention to his mouth, take my time, and feel everything. My heart was pounding too hard, my adrenaline spiking my veins with so much energy I was practically buzzing out of my skin. Kissing him left me with more questions than answers.
Maybe if I kiss him long enough, I’ll find the answers I’m looking for on his tongue.
I take another deep breath and join him on the couch but make sure to sit as far on the opposite side as possible so there’s no touching. Not even the casual graze of our knees or thighs.
I think that’s what set this whole night off to begin with. While we were in the bar, I was casually leaning against him because there was no room. It made me think things that had never even crossed my mind before.
Like what it would be like to be that guy on the other end of his message. Pictured a wordless, nameless romp in a bed and then doing the awkward dance of trying to get Parker out of his room. Or are gay guys not like us straight guys who are taught it’s rude to ask someone to leave? It’s rude to kick out a hookup, but sometimes when you know that’s all it is, it would be nice to say, “Thanks. Okay, bye.” Maybe if you’re with another guy, both there for the same reason, the awkwardness doesn’t come. He just … leaves.
“What are you thinking about?” Parker asks.
How did my train of thought get me here? “You don’t want to know.”
“Actually, I do. Because that’s why we’re here. You kissed me and then freaked out, and I get the impression that hasn’t happened before. Uh, with a man.”
I shake my head. “It hasn’t. You … You’re the only one.”
“Can I ask if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing?”
Yes. No. “It’s impossible to answer that.”
“I’ll rephrase. Do you know why you did it?”
“I …” Ergh, I don’t want to admit this. “For reasons I probably shouldn’t have.”
Parker’s face falls, some of that leftover resentment shining through. “What do you mean?”
“All I know is from the moment I knew you were going out to hook up, I wanted to stop you.”
“Because …”
I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. And then out on the street, I wasn’t really thinking at all, so I did what I thought would make you turn down the date. But the second I did it, I realized what a dick I was being. Because there’s no reason I shouldn’t want you to hook up.”
“No reason that makes sense to you, you mean.”
“Exactly. And now I feel guilty, and I’m worried that if anyone finds out, this is sure to be a scandal. I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep Easton and Lachie from jeopardizing everything, and here I am, doing something that is way worse than anything they’ve ever done, and the kicker is, I don’t even know why I did it. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my fucked-upness.”
Parker sips his wine and then leans forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “I hate to break this to you, but I’ve been a part of your fucked-upness since high school. And out of everything that you’ve done to me, kissing me is by far the least problematic and the most enjoyable.”
I can’t argue with him there, and hearing that he enjoyed it as much as I did is a bit too much for me. “I still shouldn’t have done it though. Not only because you own the team but because it was led by the old Connor taking what he wanted because his ego is big enough to think that just because you’re gay, you might be into me and want me to kiss you. I took something because I wanted it, and I didn’t ask for your permission.”
“You asked if you could try something. I would’ve pushed you away if I wasn’t okay with it.” Parker moves in closer. “And if I’m completely honest with you, had you asked if you could kiss me first before taking me off guard, I might have come in my pants.”
I burst out laughing.
“Wish I was joking. Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about kissing you?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Y-you have?”
“I think the reason I hated you the most in high school is because other than that one time where you threw me against the wall and called me Douche, all I ever wanted back then was your attention, and you never gave it to me after that day.”
I down the rest of my wine because it’s hard to handle that. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I slump down on the couch cushions.
“Only you can answer that question. Or a shrink.”
I smile. “Thanks for the support.”
“I’m not saying you have to have it all figured out right away. Chances are, you’ll be lost for a while trying to change all your learned behaviors, but I need you to know that you can trust me. Confide in me. Things will get messier before they get better, and if you’ll let me, I’ll be here for you.”
“No one will find out what I did? ”
“Not unless you tell them.”
“Will this complicate things for you and the team?”
Parker shrugs. “I don’t know, but I also don’t really care. I bought the team for my dad, and while I love hockey, it’s not like I know anything about running a franchise. I’d rather make sure you’re okay than worry about how the team is doing.”
“Why though? Why …”
“Why do I no longer hate you?”
I nod.
“There are a lot of reasons. Because I’ve seen how you’re struggling. Because you might be a late bloomer and haven’t figured yourself out yet. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I finally have your attention, and I’ll do anything to keep it.”
I speak before I think. “Even kiss me again?”