13. Riley #2
And even though Riley had a feeling that Sloan wanted to murder him, he was more worried about being kissed by him.
They were almost nose to nose, breath mingling, and tempers flaring.
All Sloan had to do was lean half an inch closer; their lips would brush, and Riley would finally find out if they were as soft as they looked.
Wait.
What?
“Get off me,” Riley snarled through clenched teeth. “Or I’m not the only one walking out of here on concussion protocol.”
Riley’s eyes caught the corner of Sloan’s mouth twitch, like he was holding back a smirk.
“Scared, Evans?”
Of Sloan? Never.
But there was no fight. Sloan conceded and let go, removing his hand from the back of Riley’s head while shooting him a glare. He returned to his shower and continued washing as if the argument had never happened, leaving Riley alone to lean against the wall.
Riley was confused and frustrated. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to get a read on Sloan, and replaying their conversation over and over wasn’t helping.
Maybe he would have to accept the fact that he would never understand the guy. Not without mind-reading powers at least.
Riley did have a secret weapon in Allen Monroe, who was exceptionally good at figuring people out, but he was saving that as a last resort.
But if he wanted the problem to go away, he would have to accept the blow to his pride and think about his future with the Citadels. And if Allen couldn’t help him, then it was time to pick a band name.
“Are you hallucinating, being weird, or having a brain bleed?” Sloan asked, splashing a wave of water toward Riley’s face. “Should I get Cooper?”
Riley huffed and splashed him back, grinning when Sloan cursed and had to turn around to avoid getting water in his eyes. He would pay for the retaliation later, but for now, Sloan’s spluttering was like music to his ears.
Riley was on the couch—and he was scared to move.
Sloan had been pacing around him like a territorial badger since the second he’d sat down, and he didn’t know whether to hide in his room and bolt the door or keep the maniac in his sights so he couldn’t pull a fast one.
His roommate was currently in the kitchen making food that smelled annoyingly delicious, muttering to himself as dishes clattered, making it sound like he was at war with the saucepan.
Sighing, Riley texted Allen and Jake in their group chat while he contemplated inviting them over before Sloan destroyed the apartment.
Got sent home on concussion protocol. Nothing serious, just a precaution. Guess who they asked to be my nursemaid.
Jake: I don’t know any nurses.
Allen: Is Kingston wearing a sexy nurse uniform? I can loan him one from work if he needs it.
Jake: I’m confused. Are you out on concussion protocol, or role-playing with Sloan?
Riley shook his head. He loved how quickly their conversations fell into chaos.
Allen is being a pervert. Sloan is my concussion buddy, even though I asked to stay with you guys. He shoved his way into the conversation and took the job, so now I’m stuck with him.
Allen: Aw, I think he likes you.
Riley stared at the words, reading repetitively until he gave up trying to make sense of them.
Allen: He’s like a stray cat sitting ten feet away from you, demanding snuggles and refusing to let you close.
Okay. That made even less sense.
Jake: He’s pretty.
Allen: Oh, I know! I think it’s the scowl. It makes him look like a pouty kitten.
The random comments were something Riley was used to because he grew up with Jake, but they really thought Sloan was pretty? He looked…like a guy. He was nothing like Allen, but maybe it was unfair to make that comparison.
Sloan did have a pleasing face, and his mouth was obnoxiously distracting. And his hair looked soft because it was so light, even when it was damp from sweat. And his blue eyes reminded him of sunny winter days when the temperature was so cold it was impossible for the sky to form clouds.
Yeah, maybe.
Allen: Ha! Look at you being a good boy and looking past your grudge to be nice—
The phone was suddenly plucked from his hand, and Riley jumped, scrambling to take it back before Sloan could read his messages.
“What are you doing?”
“Give it back!”
A hand pressed down on his throbbing head, and Riley twisted around on the couch, reaching over the back as Sloan held the phone out of reach so he could read his messages!
“Hello!” Riley shouted. “Breach of fucking privacy here!”
Sloan slowly shifted his attention from the phone to Riley, showing no reaction to the gossip that he had butted in on.
“You’re not supposed to be looking at screens,” Sloan said gruffly. “Can’t you sit there with your eyes closed for a few hours? Will I really have to watch you like I’m your nurse?”
Riley felt heat prickling his skin like pins and needles, but he said nothing as Sloan nonchalantly shoved the phone into his pocket and strode back to the kitchen.
“And I’m not a fucking kitten either.”
Riley’s jaw dropped, and every function in his system went offline as he stared at Sloan from across the room. It didn’t make sense, but—could it be possible that Sloan was an asshole because he didn’t know how to make friends?
Riley had gone through something similar with Jake because it was harder for people on the spectrum to express themselves during social interactions in a way that wasn’t different.
He didn’t think Sloan was on the spectrum, but maybe if he looked at this from a different angle, he could approach the moody jackass in a way that didn’t raise his hackles.
Riley…felt like a genius.
“Hey, Sloan. Could you please grab me a bottle of water? My head is…hurting.”
Riley held his breath, keeping alert as he studied Sloan’s body language and facial expressions.
The slow turn around to meet his gaze. The frown. The way those blue eyes searched Riley for traps and other dangers before those plush lips pressed into a firm line, and then—
Sloan went to the fridge and retrieved the water, staying silent until he closed the space between them and offered it with a death glare.
“You can’t have Advil, so water and greasy bacon on BLT sandwiches is all you’re getting,” said Sloan.
Riley took the water and smirked, but he kept it friendly. “I know. I didn’t take you as being a stickler for the rules, but it’s cool.”
Sloan scoffed like he thought Riley was being dramatic. “It’s not that deep, Evans. I already told you that I need you, so our rivalry is only on hold until you get your ass back on the ice.”
Sloan was so damn prickly, but after Riley had politely asked for the water and made a few light jokes with him, his sharp edges dulled a little. It was subtle, but now that Riley was studying his actions instead of listening to his words, everything was clicking into place.
“Eat this and shut up, dickhead,” Sloan said, handing him his sandwich.
“Put your gross feet on the couch so you’re not tempted to look at the screen,” Sloan said, as he picked Riley’s feet up, turned him, and shoved a pillow under his knees for support.
“Drink more water. You need to keep that peanut-sized brain of yours hydrated so it doesn’t shrink anymore,” Sloan said, as he handed Riley another water bottle.
“No. Stay where you are before you get up and trip into a fucking wall,” Sloan said, as he cleaned up after their meal, so Riley didn’t have to do his own dishes.
Allen was fucking right. It was like taming a feral cat.
“Can I ask you something?”
Riley opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. Sloan was sitting on the opposite end of the couch to keep a foot of space between them, staring unblinkingly at the TV screen.
“Sure,” said Riley. He didn’t know if there was a way to prepare himself for what would come out of Sloan’s mouth, but he steadied himself and held his breath.
“How are you sure that you don’t like guys?” Sloan asked. He was fidgeting, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch and narrowing his eyes at the TV. “Like, you’ve never questioned it once? Not even around the pipsqueak?”
Riley understood that the pipsqueak was Allen, but the rest of the question went over his head.
“You’re asking me if I’ve ever questioned my sexuality?” Riley countered, wishing he had his phone so he could send an emergency text to Allen for advice. “Not really. I can look at a guy and think they’re good-looking, but I’ve never wanted to have sex with them.”
Sloan’s frown deepened, and he finally looked away from the TV to meet his eyes. “Are you saying that if the big guy pinned you to a wall and kissed you, that wouldn’t do anything for you?”
Jake pinning him and kissing him?! Riley flinched just thinking about it.
Having that huge, solid frame pressing him into the wall while they sucked on each other’s tongues wasn’t on his bucket list. Jake would turn everything into a challenge, and then they would start breaking furniture while they wrestled for dominance, which was…
Fun. That sounded fun in the weirdest way, but that didn’t mean that he would enjoy kissing his friend—who was a guy.
“And if that pretty thing got on his knees and looked up at you with those big brown eyes?” Sloan added, eyebrow raised. “Nothing?”
Sloan made Allen sound so submissive, but Riley had a feeling he would be worse than Jake, just on a different level. That teasing tone Allen used when he wanted Riley to do something for him would hit different if he were sucking his cock, but still—
“Why are you obsessed with getting me to admit that I’m dating them?” Riley snapped, anger kicking his pulse into a higher gear. “Is that what you’re trying to accomplish?”
Sloan was a lot more expressive than Jake, and the confusion on his face was baffling.
“No, I’m just—” Sloan sighed and then scoffed, shaking his head. “I just wanted to know how you were sure. Don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.”