Five #2
He doesn’t question the hoodie or the beanie that I don’t take off.
Nor does he ask about the food. We both know I don’t have the money to buy any of these things, but Gravity has always been the kind of friend who doesn’t ask questions when he knows I don’t want to answer them.
He’ll slip money into my pocket when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
He’s been trying to convince me to officially stay with him for the past year since he moved into his new apartment.
I fall onto the couch next to him and he covers us with a big blanket before putting his phone in front of us.
“So… I made friends with the Prince of Mrandek.” He can’t contain his smile as he pulls up his ShareIt account.
I watch as he navigates to his notifications and shows me the line that says @Henrik_the started following you.
He clicks on it and pulls up the first image on the feed.
I grin hugely. It’s Gravity with Henrik and his husband or fiancé or something.
“Look at this,” Gravity says as he clicks on the post and reads it out loud.
“Party at Riot was a trip. Good times. Albie loves America. Our new favorite American is Gravity Elliott.”
Grinning, I take another bite. “That’s awesome. You know royalty!”
Gravity’s laugh is almost hysterical.
“What about Edgar and Clarinda?” I ask so he doesn’t pull the conversation back to me.
“Ohh, let me show you.” He clicks around again and pulls up another account. I laugh when he lets the short video play. “He graciously allowed himself to be used as the pole on which Cassian danced.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” I ask.
The ways he said the name, I get the impression I should.
He should know by now that the least of my concerns are who’s who and what’s going on in the world.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I need to find a way to take care of myself before I concern myself with strangers.
He sighs. “We pointed him out last night. Remember, Quenton’s the heir to the social media fortune who made headlines for dating a stripper?”
“Oh,” I say. Yep, nothing that even touched my list of important things in life. “Is that the stripper?”
“It is.” The grin in his voice makes me shake my head. Goof.
He clicks around a few more times and brings me to Clarinda’s page. There’s post after post of her dumping pics. I don’t think there’s a highlight to her night except being there. She flitted around the place and rarely had two pictures with the same person.
Pushing my bag of food aside, I take Gravity’s phone.
He doesn’t say anything as he watches me navigate.
Clicking on the search option, I type in OWEN VINCENT.
The first thing that comes up is a graphic of three men.
The headline reads ‘Toby Eads’ Three stars of the month—December 2019. ’ And there he is with two other men.
My breath catches because fucking hell, he’s hot.
I scroll down, but the next thing isn’t him. Backing out, I click on another post that has him in it. This one is from 2011 and titled ‘Toby Eads’ Rookies by Category.’ Owen is in a lineup of nine and is in the box that reads ‘best winger.’
I have no idea what the fuck a winger is, but he’s the best, so I love this.
Clicking on this Toby Eads account, I find it’s all hockey.
There are graphics everywhere. Mostly schedules and scores.
There’s one that pops up every few dozen posts that reads ‘Toby Eads’ Thoughts for 2019-2020 Season’ and then it’s dated.
There are five lines—killing expectations, exceeding expectations, good teams playing well, bad teams playing bad, failing expectations.
Those lines are filled with different logos, but nothing more.
I find the one that’s on the hoodie I’m wearing in the very first line of ‘exceeding expectations.’
After I study this graphic for a few minutes, I scroll through his feed until I come across a clip. I’m not sure what makes me stop until I see the words ‘Go, Vincent! Fuck yeah with that hat trick!’
So this is Owen in the video. I watch it, over and over again, and decide that I have no idea what a hat trick is. I’m not even sure I know what I’m looking at right now except hockey.
Expanding the post, I find a tag that’s for @Owen.Vincent.NHL. My heart nearly stops as I click on it. The screen is filled with Owen. A smile touches my lips as I stare at the many images and short videos.
I scroll for a while before swiping to the feed that’s all videos. They’re mostly him playing hockey, so I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at exactly. I watch them for a while and then swipe again to the feed that’s everything he’s been tagged in.
My breath catches. The very first post there is what looks like last night’s dance party. I click it and come face to face with a still image of us dancing together. His hands are in my hair, framing my face. He’s staring into my eyes.
The next picture in the post has one of his hands on my back and the other on my ass. My toes are barely on the ground. Our mouths are a breath apart.
Then the third and final picture is of us kissing. My legs wrapped around his waist and though I’m the one basically over him in this position, there’s no doubt at all that this picture captures Owen fucking owning my soul.
I stare for a very long time, knowing that his phone number is stuffed in my pocket. Gravity wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him. That really happened. There’s picture proof of it right here.
It might be over, but it will now last forever.