Twelve
OWEN
“You coming?” Linden asks as soon as we get off the bus.
I look at the hotel and then at him. “I don’t plan to sleep on the bus,” I tell him.
He snorts. “I mean to the casino. Are you coming?”
I glance down at my phone and turn the screen off before shoving it into my pocket. What other options are there? Sit in my shared hotel room and continue to search ShareIt for any sign of Zak?
We’re in Las Vegas, it’s not like I’m going to run into him here. So there’s a part of me that would much prefer staying in.
We just got in from Tennessee where we had a stupidly shitty game, losing 0-5. Yep, it was like we were all simultaneously off our games yesterday. Tomorrow we play Vegas and I hope to fuck we get our shit together.
“Yeah,” I say, though I’m really not interested in going out. “Sure. Let’s drop our shit first.”
It’s never incredibly quick when the entire team has to wait for our room keys. Since I’m not excited to go out, I don’t complain. It doesn’t make me any less impatient, though.
Eventually, I drop my shit in the room I’m sharing with Bauer, ask him if he wants to join us, to which he gives a very deadpan look, and I head back downstairs.
“You take forever,” Linden complains as he heads for the door.
“Why is he in such a hurry to lose money?” I ask Menlo.
“I’m not going to lose,” Linden calls back. “My horoscope says fortune is on my side.”
“Then why did we get our asses kicked last night?” Menlo asks.
“Today’s horoscope. Not yesterday’s.”
“What did yesterday’s say?” I ask.
“I don’t remember. It wasn’t exciting, though.”
Menlo looks at me, his lips puckered. I just shrug and shake my head. The two of them have been friends since school, from what I understand. When Menlo was traded to New York two years ago, Linden was just beside himself. They’ve been thick as thieves ever since.
I used to tease them about how they made an adorable married couple, but from the way Linden started to look terrified, I decided maybe there was something there and I didn’t want to poke it. I’m not sure if it’s unrequited or what, but I definitely don’t want to discourage it, whatever it is.
“We can go to a strip club instead,” Menlo offers.
“I think I’d rather the casino,” I reply.
He gives me an amused, knowing smirk. “How’s this guy you’ve been seeing? We gonna meet him yet?”
“What guy?”
“The guy that you’re constantly on your phone with. The one from New Year’s.”
I nod, my chest tightening. If only that were the case. What they may see is me on my phone but I’m sadly not texting with Zak. I’m looking for him. “We’re not seeing each other.”
“I call bullshit,” Linden says from a few steps in front of us. I have no idea where he’s leading us, but I don’t care too much.
Shrugging, I don’t bother setting him straight. But Menlo’s studying me. “You’re seriously not?”
He hasn’t called. It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t fucking called, just like I knew he wouldn’t. I don’t know why, since I’m fucking convinced that he likes me in the way I like him. I know he feels the same connection I do. It’s not just how good the sex is, but there’s something else there.
I’ve run through the minutes leading up to me getting him in the car and watching him drive off over and over. There’s zero doubt in my mind he wants me. But there’s also something holding him back.
Every tiny thing has swept through my mind as a possibility. He doesn’t like athletes. He doesn’t like that I have a room dedicated to myself, though he seemed to understand it better than anyone else. Maybe I hurt him.
Maybe he doesn’t want to be with a blond!
Seriously, I just don’t fucking know. All I can see is the look in his eyes as he stared at me through the window of the car. Like he desperately wanted to get out and jump back into my arms. I remember the way his mouth felt on mine. How he kissed me with abandon, begging and consuming.
Just as I predicted he wouldn’t, he hasn’t called.
I’ve gone to his apartment three more times since then. Once, hoping I’d see him step outside. I didn’t, and his name is still not clear on any of the buzzers.
While I haven’t hit stalker levels yet, I fear I’m getting close. I so fucking desperately want to see this man again. Everything inside me wants to lose myself in him.
“You’re really not seeing him?” Menlo says after a while.
I shake my head. “Really not.”
“Why?”
The world hates me. Maybe I did something to piss off karma? I don’t fucking know. Shaking my head is the only answer I offer him. Because I don’t know.
“That’s okay,” Linden says, slapping me hard on the shoulder. I give him a flat look. “We can go pick up some chicks later.” He pushes through the double doors to the casino and I’m hit in the face with smoke. My stomach churns and I have second thoughts about coming here.
“How set are you on losing money tonight?” I ask.
“I’m not going to lose!” Linden insists. “Just a few games. You’ll see. Then we can go get laid.”
“He knows I’m not doing that, right?” I confirm.
“Sex is the solution to everything as far as he’s concerned,” Menlo says.
We follow Linden as he scopes out different slot machines and the tables.
While I wait, I pull out my phone and scroll through ShareIt some more.
First, I do what I always do when I open the app.
I maneuver to the posts I’m tagged in and stare at the images of me and Zak dancing on New Year’s Eve. Waiting for someone to tag him.
I tap the picture but there still aren’t any tags.
Then I start scrolling. Sometimes I look up ‘Zak in NYC’ or some variation to see if I can find him that way.
After two weeks, I haven’t found a single account that could be him.
I can’t even find a friend’s account that has pictures of him.
Short of reposting that image of us from the party and begging the world to identify him, I’m not sure how to find this man that I’m fucking obsessed with.
The thought that maybe I should let it be is often right there too. He has my number and is choosing not to call me. But then I argue, he didn’t call me between meetings, and he definitely wanted to come home with me the second time too.
Mixed signals. That’s what I’m getting.
Except I’m not sure that’s it at all. It’s almost as if he can’t call me. Like something or someone is holding him back. Then I wonder if he’s married. Is that why he won’t give me his phone number? Is that why he won’t see me again?
I doubt it, but I don’t sweep it off the table entirely. I don’t believe at all that this man is having an affair with me. There's something else.
I spend the evening tagging along with Menlo and Linden.
We hit up three casinos and Linden ends up losing $560.
While I don’t start in with the ‘I told you so’ taunt, I sure as fuck think it.
He pouts and just can’t understand why he lost when his horoscope said that he would have good fortune today.
Menlo wraps his arm around Linden’s shoulders as we walk down the street, giving me a bemused look while he comforts his best friend. I shake my head. He's entirely ridiculous. When they decide that Linden would be cheered up at a strip club, I bow out.
Instead, when I open my phone to obsess some more, I find a message from Azure Dayne asking if I'm interested in an obligatory ‘Gays Can Play’ meetup. Yes, he phrased it just like that. Azure is a character.
I type out the hotel I’m staying at and that I can meet him downstairs in an hour if he’s interested.
I receive a thumbs up. Assuming that’s an agreement, I head back and upstairs to shower.
There’s very little I hate more than reeking of smoke when I’m not a smoker.
It’s hard to smell like anything else after coming from a casino.
Azure is already waiting when I get back downstairs.
He’s a good-looking man, but there’s something underlying that feels rather off-putting.
I’ve never quite put my finger on what it is.
Maybe the night black of his hair, in contrast to his surreal light eyes.
It could be how his expression is almost always neutral and when he smiles, it has a very unhinged feeling to it.
And yet, I’m not sure why I feel that way. He’s only ever been kind to me, if not quiet. He’s friendly enough, though doesn’t get involved in dull conversations about the weather or whatever. To my knowledge, he’s not a serial killer.
He’s different and there’s nothing wrong with different.
Azure offers me a smile when he sees me, and I commit it to memory to examine later. Just to give me something else to do other than continue to obsess over Zak. Instead, I’ll dissect why I thought to note that he’s not a serial killer.
“Hey,” I say and we do the whole friendly but not quite friends, slightly awkward hug thing.
“Hello,” he responds. “Get here okay?”
“Boring trip, per usual, but uneventful. Gave us plenty of time to reflect on how bad we choked yesterday.”
He smirks, telling me he already knew that. “Indeed.”
“You’re having a decent season,” I offer as we head into the restaurant.
Azure shrugs. Sometimes, I’m not sure why he plays hockey. He never appears overly interested in it. I’d say it's because it’s a medium where he’s allowed to throw people against the wall with all the strength he can muster except… he’s a goalie. That opportunity isn’t presented to him often.
“Your season’s better,” he says. “But I’m playing better than your goalie.”
“Those are fighting words,” I tease.
He smirks, his light eyes meeting mine briefly before we’re standing in front of the hostess. She meets Azure’s eyes and, I swear, the color drains from her face. So she addresses me instead. Once we’re seated, she hurries off.
As she scurries away, I keep up tradition and ask, “Tied anyone up lately?”
Azure’s smile spreads across his face.
Honestly, I’m not sure why or when this weird tradition started, but everyone always asks Azure this question. Sometimes I’d love to know the story behind it, but then again… the less you know!
“Not lately and not in the way I prefer,” he answers.
I’m not at all sure I want to know what that means. I laugh and let the conversation drop while the waiter stops at our table. He takes our drink and appetizer order before scurrying away as the hostess did.
“Did you see the latest sale?” Azure asks, making me look at him warily.
“No.”
“Eccentric billionaire Edries Franklin just bought Winnipeg,” Azure says. “They’re changing the name from Wendigos to Avalanche.”
I scrunch my face. “That’s unoriginal. I swear, there are like eight pro teams with that name.”
He snorts. “I know. He’s already in the middle of rebranding, I guess.”
Shaking my head, I turn my attention to the menu. Typical hotel restaurant fare. When I turn back to Azure, he’s watching me. “What?”
“You look different,” he declares.
“Yeah? You look the same.”
I’m rewarded with a crooked half smile. “What’s with you?”
Since I know that somehow, this man could convince me to tell him my blood type if he wanted to know, I don’t bother to skirt around the subject at all. I tell him about Zak. Our meetings. Our fucking. Then him vanishing without giving me any way at all to contact him and refusing to call me.
“I’m seriously losing my mind,” I complain.
“You said there’s a picture of you two?” he asks.
I nod. “On ShareIt. The tags.”
I focus on snacking as I watch Azure tap through his phone.
Then he stares at the screen for a minute.
I expect him to come back with ‘I don’t recognize him,’ to which I’d just snort because I didn’t expect him to.
Azure lives in Vegas and only comes to New York to play games.
As far as I know, there aren’t any other occasions.
“You look good together,” he says.
I grunt because that’s not at all helpful while simultaneously making my stomach flip. Because we do look good together, dammit!!
He sets his phone down and studies me. “What do you know about him?”
This is how we spend the rest of the meal. Azure asks me questions about Zak and I unload everything I can think of. Every memory. Every idea. Every hint. By the time I head upstairs, I’m none the wiser about how to find him, but I’m more convinced than ever that I want to.
I’m not done with Zak Anonymous. I will find him. Somehow.