Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ACE
S omething was wrong with Zoma. I eyed him. I noticed shit like that. Fuck, I was trained as a goalie to notice everything, especially body language. “Hey, you okay?”
Had something we’d said freaked him out? God, I hoped not. For the first time in a long time, I’d felt a real connection with a guy. I draped an arm around Zoma’s shoulders.
Shrugging off my arm, he gave a stuttered chuckle. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Why?” His gaze darted everywhere but at me.
Fuck, something was wrong. “You seem different.” I stepped closer to him. “If my friends said something?—”
“No, they didn’t. I’m, uh…” He shrugged a shoulder. “Look, it’s getting late, and I have things to do tomorrow. I should probably head home.”
“Home? Now?” I fished my phone from my pocket and peered at it. Shit, it was midnight, so it was kind of late. With a smirk, I said, “You turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” I really didn’t want him to go, but I didn’t want to be a dick and make him feel bad for leaving.
“Ha-ha.” He offered a soft grin. “Look, I had a really great time with you tonight.” He brushed his hand over my arm. “Really great. You’re a good guy, Ace.” He leaned in and whispered, “And sexy as hell.”
Warmth floated through my chest. “Yeah? So can I have your number?” Wasn’t there an agreement to meet at his place and have sex? Or was that just heat-of-the-moment talk?
“Sure.” Zoma dragged his phone from his pocket and gave me his number.
I called it and his phone buzzed. “There. I’ll be in touch, okay?” I focused on his generous lips and narrow jawline. He was so well put together, the messy light-brown bangs falling over his forehead and baby-blue eyes. He had a refined look to him. I adored it.
“Yeah, sure.” Standing on his tiptoes, he grabbed me by the nape and pulled me in for a deep, lingering kiss. “See you around, Ace.”
As I made to grab his arm, he sauntered off into the crowd. Watching him, an ache fluttered across my chest. I wanted to follow him. I stepped forward and stopped. Don’t be a weirdo, Ace. My gaze caught on him passing the bouncer and walking out the door. Fuck.
“What happened?” Tyler planted his hand on my shoulder and sipped his beer.
“He had to go. Guess he’s got shit to do tomorrow.” With a sigh, I turned and strolled to the table. Would I ever see him again? Something felt off.
“You got his number, right?” Tyler glanced at Myles and focused on me.
“Yeah, I got his number.” Scratching my cheek, I held my phone to my face, scanning over my phone call to him. Maybe after my dry spell, my game was off. I was probably seeing things that weren’t there.
“You going to text him right now?” Myles chuckled. “Dude, that’s too soon. Give it a day. You don’t want to come on too strong.”
“And you two looked pretty cozy out there on the dancefloor.” Tyler bumped his shoulder into mine with a sharp laugh. “I saw you both hightail it into the restroom.”
“What did you guys do in there?” Myles smirked over his beer glass.
With a scoff, I said, “None of your business. A gentleman doesn’t tell.” At least not when a hookup turns into something more.
“Who the hell said you were a gentleman?” Tyler cackled.
I flashed a glare at him. “Uncalled for.” I looked around the room. I needed a new drink. “I’m getting another beer. Anybody else need one?”
The next afternoon, I sat in the corner of our green sectional at the squad house, waiting for Tyler and Myles to join me in the latest version of the NHL video game. It was our only day off for the week and I’d already reviewed a ton of game footage of U of A, so I’d have the down-low on their new guys. Now, it was time to relax.
Tyler strolled out of the hallway to the bedrooms and dropped beside me. “So, you hear anything from Zoma yet?” He lifted a brow.
“No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t. It’s probably too soon, don’t you think?” I glanced at my phone, taunting me from the coffee table. I’d only looked about a million times to see if I had any messages from him.
“But you like him, right?” He patted my thigh. “What does the guy do?”
“Do?” I stared at him. Shit, how much had I found out about him? Not much. “Uh, he’s a graduate student at ASU, and I think he said he wanted to be a coach.”
“A coach of what?” He studied me.
“I-I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” I’d been thinking too much about how good he felt with his dick pressed to mine. I snatched my Gatorade from the table and drank it.
“Interesting.” He up-nodded toward my phone. “Why don’t you text him?”
“How do you know I haven’t already?” I breathed in deeply. Tyler was going to push this. I could feel it.
“Because I know you. You’d have said something if you had.” He plucked my phone off the table. “Since we’re waiting on Myles to do God knows what, let’s text Zoma. Shall we?” He held the phone in front of my face and the display opened.
“What? No.” With a choked laugh, I snatched the phone from him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Leaning into me and wagging his brows, he said, “Your new bestie now that Mason’s not here.”
He had a point. “We are not texting him.” With a huff, I set the phone against my thigh.
“How about we stalk him on social media? I’m sure the guy has an Instagram account. Who doesn’t?” He grabbed my phone again. “With a name like Zoma, I’m sure he’s not hard to find.”
With a tut, I said, “Yeah, okay.” Hadn’t I been itching to do this all day?
“Okay then. Let’s see.” He opened my phone with my face again and tapped on my Instagram app. “Zoma, Zoma, Zoma…” He stopped. “Ah, there.” He dropped his brows. “Looks like his last name is Martin. But his account is private.”
“Let me look at that.” I twisted the phone toward me and zoomed in on his profile picture. My heart fluttered. It was him, all right. The guy had the face of an angel.
“What kind of a name is Zoma, anyway?” He planted the phone on the table and shifted to face me.
“His friend said his mother made it up. She wanted a unique name that started with a Z and ended with an A .” I thought back to our conversation. “He said his parents were supportive of him. I don’t know.” With a frown, I crossed my arms over my chest. Should I text him? Fuck it. What could it hurt? If he didn’t text back, then I’d know it wasn’t meant to be. “Give me the fucking phone.”
“That’s my boy.” After plucking the phone off the table, he handed it to me and smirked.
I tapped the screen.
Ace
Hey, Zoma, this is Ace. How are you doing? Did you get your stuff done?
I showed it to Tyler. “What do you think?” My pulse sped up. Shit, was it too much?
Twisting his lips, Tyler said, “It gets the job done, but it’s not very exciting.”
“What the hell am I supposed to say?” I threw the phone onto the cushion beside me. Fuck, now I was going to be checking it every couple of seconds. This was a bad idea.
Myles strutted out of the hallway, skimming his palms together. “You boys ready to rumble? My hands are all warmed up.”
“I don’t need to know the specifics on that.” I blew out a breath. He was going to tell us anyway.
“What? Can’t a guy rub one out in the privacy of his own bedroom?” With a snigger, he strolled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“Dude, wash your hands before you pick up a controller.” With a flick of his gaze at me, Tyler huffed. “You think I’m bad.” He grabbed a controller and started the game on our television, which rested on a console in the corner.
“I already did. Chill.” He grabbed a Gatorade and slapped the top of my head as he passed. “What’s up with the new boy?”
I glanced at Tyler and my phone, my pulse kicking. Why did he have to remind me?
“Ace is making the first move. Just texted him.” Tyler craned his neck, looking at my phone. “Nothing yet?”
“No, nothing, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I pursed my lips.