13. Riley #3
Riley waited for him to continue, but Sloan went back to watching the TV and ignored him, unbothered by the frustrated tension between them.
“Forget it. Go back to your nap, Evans.”
How the fuck was he supposed to relax enough to fall asleep after a conversation that bizarre? Riley didn’t understand the purpose of the topic.
Still, he closed his eyes so he could brood and ponder the question, turning reactions and words over in his head, hoping to glean sense from them.
Sloan wanted to know how Riley was sure, but not because he was harassing him about having bisexual and gay best friends. The only reasonable explanation was that Sloan was asking for a personal reason, which was pointless because Sloan was straight.
Unless he wasn’t.
Unless he was questioning?
Riley was ninety-nine percent sure that Sloan was aggressively straight because he never shut the fuck up about bringing girls home.
But it was true that Riley had yet to run into any of the endless women he claimed to sleep with, and Sloan never left the apartment after they came home from practice.
Sure, he could be saving sex during the times Riley was visiting Jake and Allen, but Sloan wasn’t the shy or courteous type, so he had no reason to hide it.
Riley could also be wrong about everything, but the way Sloan was so defensive and flighty, especially after they had hung out with Jake and Allen, it…kind of made sense.
He wished he knew more about Sloan, but there hadn’t been much to go by other than hockey stats last time he checked, and he highly doubted Sloan would open up to him.
Riley needed his phone. He needed Allen’s people-reading skills and Jake’s pattern recognition bullshit. But Jake had already commented on how pretty Sloan was, so did he know something?
Jake would never come out and say it. That was the thing about him; answers needed to be pried out of him under threat of death sometimes. Allen had a gift for getting Jake to speak his thoughts out loud, something Riley had been trying to do since they were kids.
If Sloan was questioning and looking for help, Riley didn’t want to fuck things up. Bisexual or gay, it didn’t matter. Helping Sloan could be his ticket to hitting a stable relationship with the surly bastard.
“I have to text Allen—”
“Nope,” Sloan said, shutting him down quickly. “If you need something, give me his number so I can text him for you, or you can call.”
Wow, is this what it felt like to have an angry wife?
Riley wasn’t calling anyone with Sloan there, and if he couldn’t get his phone back, then this would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Pick one, dumbass,” Sloan grumbled. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting like a grumpy child.
Riley was straight and secure in his sexuality, so he could admit that Jake was right about Sloan’s appearance, but did it do anything for him?
The silence held between them as Riley studied Sloan, imagining what it would be like to touch him and trace patterns on those freckles with his tongue.
What sounds would Sloan make if Riley pushed him onto his back and took his mouth? Or maybe against the shower room wall like they had been earlier that day? Would he moan? Would he curse at him and start ripping his clothes off? Would he fucking submit—
The heat rushed south so fast that Riley jumped up, swearing under his breath and startling Sloan with the abruptness.
He wasn’t freaking out. Submissiveness was hot, no matter what gender the person was—it didn’t have anything to do with Sloan. Taking control of a random hookup would make his body react, and he was sure that if he pictured pinning Allen and kissing him, it would be the same.
Pinning Allen. Taking control of him. Kissing him. Making him moan.
Riley scrambled to immerse himself in the fantasy, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t seem to make fantasy Allen do the same things that fantasy Sloan wanted. If anything, Allen was a fucking power bottom in the illusion, and Riley was the one being pinned to the bed.
He still didn’t need to panic because Riley knew he was straight. If he weren’t, he would have dated Jake a long time ago, since he had the perfect personality, and it was comfortable around him.
See? Straight.
“Okay, I’m calling a fucking ambulance,” said Sloan. “You’ve been staring at me for five minutes, and it’s creeping me the fuck out.”
Riley cursed again and grabbed the pillow from under his knees so he could hug it to his chest. He was so fucking embarrassed.
“Chill out, I had a kink in my foot,” said Riley. “Can we watch the goddamn hockey game without threatening me with hospitalization, please?”
Sloan observed him for five seconds, then shook his head like a disappointed parent and returned his attention to the TV.
“Give me Allen’s number so I can ask him for an owner’s manual or something,” said Sloan. “I need to know how many times I have to take you out for a walk.”
Riley didn’t know what had possessed him to think Sloan was attractive. Maybe he did have a head injury.
“Number,” Sloan ordered.
“Go fuck yourself.”