Chapter 17 #2
There’s no denying it. Ryan’s attitude towards me has shifted. It’s beyond him spending most of the baseball game staring at me. Even now at Mickey’s, I keep catching him looking. Not that it’s hard for him to do as he’s been practically glued to my side all night.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from him, and while I do enjoy it, I wish I knew what sparked him to change his mind.
I step away from him, just far enough to get to the bar and grab us each a beer from Nicole.
She leans over the bar as she hands them to me. “Someone’s been keeping a close eye on you all night. What’d you do to him?”
“Nothing,” I laugh. “I was kind of hoping you knew.”
“No idea,” she says. “I can tell you, though; he’s looked a lot happier since you’ve joined the team. So do what you want with that information.”
“Thanks,” I say and drop a twenty on the bar for our drinks and her tip. With a few steps, I’m back at Ryan’s side. I hand him his beer, then hit his bottle with mine. He locks eyes with me as I do it. My stomach flips.
Ryan brings his beer to his lips and stays focused on me as he drinks. There’s an unmistakable heat behind his gaze. When he pulls his bottle away, he licks his lips. “You wanna get out of here after we finish these beers?”
“And go where?” I ask, my heart beating fast as I anticipate his answer.
“My place.”
I gulp down half of my beer. I have never been more grateful for the fact that Danton had to take his kids home after the game instead of coming here with us. I would hate to have to explain to him why I was going home with Ryan instead of him.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I ask.
“No,” he says, still staring right at me. “But I’m finding it harder and harder to care.” He leans in close. “Come home with me. I’ll make sure you’re back at Danton’s before they wake up in the morning.”
I nod my head and bring my beer back to my lips. He takes a long pull of his, then with a satisfied smile on his face, he shifts himself to stand beside me, and slings his arm over my shoulder as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if standing here like this in public doesn’t matter.
But then again, we are hockey players. And hockey players tend to do strangely intimate things with each other like it’s totally normal.
There’s the post-game hugs for our goalies and the little bonks of our heads on each other’s helmets.
Not to mention the absolutely obscene amount of time we spend naked in the locker room and showers together.
But none of those things have ever made me feel as electric as I do right now, looped under Ryan’s arm.
“Here.” O’Shea comes over with a couple of shots in his hands.
His arrival causes Ryan to remove his arm from around my shoulders.
Probably in an attempt to make it seem like it meant nothing, he throws his arm around O’Shea as he grabs one of the shots from him and calls him a beauty.
The heavy warmth I felt is instantly replaced by an ache in my chest to be there again.
I grab the other shot O’Shea is holding out for me. Whiskey by the smell and color. We all slam them back, each pulling our own face of disgust after we swallow.
O’Shea slips out from underneath Ryan’s arm. “Roysy and I want to go somewhere else where we can find some girls,” he says. “Maybe get this one laid.” He lightly punches me in the arm.
I give him an awkward laugh along with an equally awkward smile.
There is no world in which I want to explain to him why none of what he suggested sounds appealing to me.
I don’t think right now is the time or place for the “I’m only interested in dick” discussion.
Nor is it the time for me to tell him that Ryan and I are already headed in that direction.
“Nah,” Ryan says. His eyes flash to mine and there’s an eagerness behind them. “I’m beat.”
“And I gotta get back to Cap’s house.” I rush the words out. I flash my gaze back to Ryan just in time to see him smirk at me as he subtly looks me up and down.
“Your guys’ loss,” O’Shea says, then yells over us as he walks away. “Roysy! Order an Uber! It’s just you and me!”
Ryan nods his chin at me. “Are you ready to head out?”
“Yes,” I say, perhaps too quickly. Suddenly, all I want is to get out of here and get Ryan alone.
I have never been more ready.
Ryan
I have wasted too much time already trying both to deny the fact I’m attracted to Brandon and that I’m not going to act on it.
Plus, I already know he has the same feelings for me.
At this point, I don’t think there’s any reason for us to deny it.
He has the potential to be the answer to a lot of what I’m looking for, and I think I can be that for him.
It’s time to nut up or shut up. And you better believe I want to nut up. I’m fucking dying.
So as soon as we exit Mickey’s and turn the corner of the nearest street, I give myself permission to give in to what I want and sling my arm around Brandon’s shoulders again.
He doesn’t shrug me off. He doesn’t look over his shoulder at me to silently question my actions.
He does exactly what I want him to and leans against me as he slides his arm around my waist.
He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief that’s quickly followed by a light, joyful laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice and feel the tension radiating through him.
He’s coiled like a spring ready to jump, but not out of my hold.
A leap into something more pleasurable than a walk home held close.
A leap into something I’m curious to know if he’s been denying his feeling for as much as I have.
“No, seriously. What’s so funny?” I ask again. A sadistic part of me can’t decide if I want to hear him say it, or if I want to watch him squirm and dance around it.
“Just this,” he says, finally answering my question.
I tighten my hold on him. “What about this?”
There’s that laugh again, nervous this time. It thrills me. “Obviously, we both want this.”
Maybe it’s residual from him being like everyone’s younger brother all those years ago, but I can’t help myself from fucking with him. “I still don’t see what’s so funny about wanting to go home and go to bed.”
“Oh shit,” he says, moving to let go of me. I can see the panic making the color drain from his face.
I tighten my grip on him and spin him to press his back against a nearby building’s brick wall.
“I’m fucking with you,” I say, then lean all the way in and close the gap with my lips pressing against his.
And it’s here, up against this cool brick wall on a warm spring night in St. Louis, Missouri, Brandon Bouchard gives me a taste of what I’ve been missing all these years when he kisses me back like he’s been starving for me the same as I’ve been for him.