24. JED #2
My gut sinks.
There weren’t any other rooms available at the hotel.
Which is fine. Kind of.
We suffered through an awkward night, lying like statues, clearly too aware of one another to drift off.
Which probably explains why I played like complete shit. My reaction time was off, my brain a fogged mess. I was making horrible calls on the field and swinging at pitches I know better than to swing at. Shane somehow didn’t seem to be affected, and we scraped in a win.
It was hard fought, though. Three-and-a-half hours to get through those nine innings. We’re all dragging our feet. I don’t see Shane anywhere, and it’s probably better if we head to our room separately anyway, so I slip from the locker room.
I could barely keep my eyes open back there, but the minute I set foot in our room my body starts buzzing.
I pace as I brush my teeth. I put on sleep shorts.
Then decide I should probably wear a shirt too.
Then take it off, because am I making it weird by covering up so much?
I’d slept nude back in Hartford. Which is a huge no now, but putting on a full snowsuit just draws more attention to the awkward situation we’re in.
I decide against the shirt and get into bed, but I’m too restless to lie still. Plus, just lying here with the light on while I wait for him to return feels…weird.
I get back out, throw in some headphones, and pull up a short yoga Youtube video. Some stretches and breathing will shake me out of this antsy-ness. And after a few minutes, I am feeling better.
Crash!
I practically jump out of my skin. I shoot up and whip around. And there’s Shane Michaels…lying in a heap on the floor. His cheeks are blazing red, and his eyes are squeezed shut tight.
I quickly pop out my headphones and hurry over to him. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
He buries his head in his arms. Muffled words drift up to me, but I don’t catch them.
“What was that?”
He turns to me and glares. “Your ass. Your ass, Jed. I thought we were supposed to be not tempting each other. I walk in here, and you’re practically naked and bent over.”
I can’t help myself. I laugh. I scrub a hand down my face. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Should have faced the other way. But I’m not naked. I’m wearing shorts.”
He untangles his limbs and stands. He shoots me an unimpressed look. “You’re going commando, Jed. Those shorts hide nothing, fuck you very much.”
I wince.
He walks past me, careful not to touch me. “I don’t know how you’re still standing after that game, anyway. I am so fucking ready to crash out. I know you slept just as well as I did last night. Which was not at all.”
I don’t either. I’m so goddamned tired, but my body is as hopped up as it would be if I’d downed a pot of coffee. I’m too aware of him. Of our situation. Of the fact people know.
Instead of answering him, I get into bed and stare at the ceiling. But my senses are heightened. Everything is amplified. The rush of water from the faucet. The swoosh of him brushing his teeth. The shuffle of clothes as he digs through his bag.
Finally, the bed dips, and he slides in next to me. I’m lying as far away as possible, my right ass cheek hanging off the bed. There’s almost two feet of space between us, but it doesn’t stop the soft prickle popping up over my skin.
It’s not even from a desire to hook up either.
It’s just all so damn awkward. Shane hits the lights, and darkness blankets us.
Each one of his breaths ricochets through the room.
We’ve barely spoken two words to each other since last night.
Our exchange a moment ago was our first conversation off the field.
A quiet Shane is discomforting. A subdued Shane, even more so.
His expression from last night swims across my vision, and my gut squirms. There’d been this desolate acceptance in it, in his apology.
Almost like he expects he’ll do something to fuck up?
“I’m not mad. Just so you know,” I say into the deafening silence.
He’s quiet for a beat. “I know I messed up, Jed.”
I frown into the darkness. “Yeah, but it was an accident. You said they guessed.” I roll onto my side and face him, but my eyes haven’t adjusted enough to make him out in the darkness yet.
“I believe what you said. Your friends picked up on it. There’s really not much you could have done.
I’m not happy about it. But I’m not mad at you, and I sure as hell don’t blame you. ”
He scoffs. “Not sure why you wouldn’t. I’m the one who forced all this on you. I kissed you. I went up to your apartment after you already said no. I…” A harsh breath falls from him, then he whispers, “I practically coerced you into this. Snuck into your shower. All the blame lies with me.”
Okay. When he puts it like that, it sounds really bad.
“Shane.” He turns toward my commanding tone, and I can kind of make out the outline of his features.
“If I had really wanted to say no, there’s nothing you could have done to change my mind.
As sexy as your naked self is, I could have turned you away. But I never wanted to.”
I pause, let the gravity sink in, because I need to make sure he understands this.
“Every no I’ve ever given you was hiding a louder yes.
And I know you recognized that. I told you I love a brat…
and you kind of excel in that area. We were both equally in this.
And now we’ll both figure out how to be normal going forward.
You say your friends won’t say anything, and I trust that. ”
“Okay,” he says quietly.
“Now, if you were best friends with Olander and Dev, it’d be a different story. But Nebs is one of the good ones. Winters is quiet, but since he’s friends with Nebs and you—and I guess you’re all right—I’m assuming he’s safe too.”
“Pshh. I’m all right. You were singing a different tune back in Hartford.”
My lips curve up, and so much fucking weight drains from me. There’s some of that familiar teasing back.
We’re quiet again. It’s less awkward this time. Not quite comfortable, but getting there.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I was feeling really shitty over it all.”
Last night’s words drift back to me, the ones where he unintentionally admitted he had a crush on me.
I’m the first man he’s ever been with. I grimace.
And I told him it was nothing. A mistake.
I’m the one who should feel shitty here.
Pretty sure the verdict would be I am the asshole in this situation.
“I…uh… Don’t regret it, though. Just so you know.
I think I kind of made it sound that way last night.
I don’t think it was smart—I know it wasn’t smart.
But I don’t wish it didn’t happen. Like if you weren’t my teammate…
No hesitation to go there again. And I’m not usually one for repeats.
” My words trail off into silence. Shit, now it’s awkward again.
I gruffly clear my throat. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
Ugh. Now, I wish I hadn’t opened my mouth at all. Not sure if I just made things better.
Or worse.