23. Dan
DAN
The problem with being dickmatised was the aftermath when you had to face not only what you’d done, but who you’d done it with.
I’d showered and borrowed a pair of Lincoln’s shorts—not that I wanted to, but it wasn’t like I carried a change of clothes around with me—and I was now sitting on the edge of his bed in his shorts and my hoodie, looking around his apartment in the most awkward silence ever.
The apartment itself was nice, probably Georgian if I had to guess.
It was pretty elegant, all high ceilings and tall windows, neutrally decorated in what my mum would call “calm colours”—soft greens and creams and natural wood tones.
It was clear that Lincoln liked his own space, otherwise he would’ve been in one of the shared houses, and I could appreciate that.
I mean, I loved getting to live with my teammates, and I definitely didn’t miss the former prison cell that had served as my accommodation in my first year at uni, but there was something about being able to have your own place that appealed to me.
Then again, it kind of seemed like it might be a bit lonely.
For me, at least. I did not do well on my own—I’d have to get a cat or a fish or a snail or something.
Apartment aside, the reason for the awkwardness was the fact that reality had hit both me and Lincoln, and neither of us was sure how to act when we were alone with each other without fighting…
or fucking, now, I guessed. Not that our earlier incidents would be repeated.
My gaze flicked to the man who was currently sprawling on the soft cream carpet next to the archway that separated the bedroom area from the kitchen and living space, scrolling on his phone as he did his best to act as if his nemesis wasn’t hanging out on his bed.
“This carpet wouldn’t stay nice in our house,” I said eventually, just to break the silence.
To my surprise, Lincoln huffed out a laugh instead of coming out with a cutting remark.
“It wouldn’t be my first choice. My mother paid for a decorator.
I had no say.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair, his mouth twisting.
“The colours are supposed to calm me after my ‘violent’ hockey games.”
“Does it work?” I shuffled back on his bed, relaxing a little as I propped myself up against his pillows, stretching out my legs in front of me.
Lifting his head, he stared at me for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before his mouth curved into a smirk. “Depends if we’ve played against your team.”
A laugh burst from my throat, and his smirk widened into a grin. I shook my head, smiling. “I know exactly what you mean, Bellingham. Those are the nights I have my best fights at the yard.”
“Except for the nights you gatecrash our parties.” Rising to his feet in one smooth movement, he flipped off the light switch next to his head, leaving just a soft glow coming from the lamp in the lounge area.
Glancing in my direction, his gaze flicked between me and his mattress.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, muttering something under his breath before crossing the room to the edge of the bed.
When he’d come out of the shower, he’d mumbled something about making up a bed on the floor, but for now, the only place to sit was on his bed…
which I’d commandeered. I raised a brow.
“Can I help you?”
“Move.”
I shifted over, because I was too tired to argue with him, and this was…
not nice, but it wasn’t not nice. I wasn’t argumentative by nature, and anyone who said that was a lying slanderer who lies, so it was honestly a relief to not have to be combative with him for a minute.
Then again, being combative came so easily when my nemesis was involved.
“Didn’t you learn manners in that fancy boarding school of yours?” I said as he stretched out next to me. “Or from your parents?”
“You think you deserve my manners?” He rolled onto his side, and I suddenly had a large hockey player pressed up against my arm, his minty breath skittering across my face. I turned, meeting his gaze.
“Nah, probably not. Back to the gatecrashing thing. You do realise that your team captain invited us, yeah?”
“That was a fucking stupid idea.”
“There were only, like, two fights, and everyone else left happy. You ended up happy, from what I remember—”
“Don’t fucking speak of it,” he growled, his fingers reaching up to curl around my throat.
Not this again. At this rate, I might as well tattoo his handprint on my neck.
I was also starting to get a little concerned about the way my heart went all jumpy every time he did it. That definitely wasn’t normal.
“Don’t speak of what? The blowjob? Or the part where you gave me a little souvenir to remember you by?”
“Fuck you.” His fingers tightened, and my dick perked up in interest. No. This was not happening. We’d already compromised our fraught relationship tonight, probably irreversibly, and there was no way I was going to add to that.
Shaking my head, I curled my fingers around his palm. “Stop. Can we just…call a temporary truce? Just for tonight?” I kind of hated myself for even suggesting it, but I was so fucking tired. The last few days had been a lot to deal with, and tonight had been the worst yet.
He let me lower his hand, and when it was a safe distance from my face, I immediately pulled away.
Shifting onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling.
“A temporary truce for tonight? We can try, if you can manage not to irritate the fuck out of me. Want to, uh, watch TV or play PlayStation or something?”
“Try not to irritate me, and I’ll be my usual charming self.
I’m sure we can manage one night. Maybe.
Uh, as for TV… that’s a no go. I’m supposed to limit my screen time for the next couple of days.
” I sighed. Now I was stumped. I couldn’t picture us sitting around playing board games or any of that cosy friends-and-family shit. “Music?”
“Music…” he said slowly. “Yeah, we can do that. What music—”
“Don’t pretend that you don’t know my music tastes, Bellingham. You’ve stalked me enough to know what I like.”
“Fuck you, Hoyton. I bet you have a whole fucking dossier on me, like the little criminal you are.”
“I do not!” That was actually a lie, but there was no way I was going to tell him that. Anyway, there was that saying, something about “know thine enemy,” so I was just taking precautions.
He rolled his eyes, tapping at his phone, and less than a minute later, I heard the familiar sound of Sleep Theory playing softly from the speaker on his desk. I grinned as he continued tapping at his phone.
Eventually, his head rose. “I’ve unblocked you, okay?”
My grin widened. “I knew you wanted to stalk me again.”
“Fuck off, you’re the stalker. Speaking of, while we’re in a truce situation, why don’t we ask each other questions instead of you using your stalker surveillance methods?”
I stared at him. This was unexpected.
“Okay. We can play your little getting-to-know-you game, but I reserve the right to veto any I don’t want to answer. And I do not have any stalker surveillance methods, you dick.”
“If you say so. The veto goes for me too,” he murmured, his lips kicking up. “Okay. I’ll start. What do you want to do when you finish uni?”
Hmm…he was clearly easing me in before going for the throat.
I hummed. “What I have to do and what I want to do…I guess they’re the same.
I dunno, I’ll probably end up going into the family business.
I’m not expected to take over or anything, but I’ll probably find a position somewhere.
My family have done a lot for me, and I wanna repay them.
They’re pretty chilled, so I can take my pick, really. Even do something else if I wanted to.”
“What if the business wasn’t a factor?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I guess…if that wasn’t a factor, maybe hockey.
Not in the EIHL, because I’m not at that level, but there could be a small chance I could get on a team in the NIHL.
That would be a good compromise, because I could potentially do that and still work for my family.
Depends if any of the teams wanted me, I guess, and how far away they were from here.
Honestly, though? I’d happily do something in the business and play hockey as a hobby. ”
“Why wouldn’t they want you? You’re easily good enough.”
“Lincoln Bellingham, are you trying to compliment me?” I batted my lashes at him, and he snorted, shoving my arm.
“Fuck off. I’ve never known anyone as egotistical as you.”
“Thank you. What about you? Same question.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” he muttered, but he settled back in place, his brows pulling together as he thought about my question.
“I haven’t thought about what I’d like to do, because my path is set.
I’m going into law, whether I want to or not.
I’ve been brought up to follow in my parents’ footsteps, and my career path is set. ”
From the expression on his face, I could see that the thought of it didn’t appeal to him at all, and my heart went all…
I dunno how I could describe it, but it was like a squeezing sensation.
Even super-rich, annoyingly sexy, irritatingly talented banes of my existence should be allowed to choose to do something they loved.
I shifted closer, my shoulder pressing against his. It was just for warmth. “If you got to choose. If there were no other factors. What would you pick?”
“Hockey,” he said instantly. “EIHL. Or any overseas league that would have me. Somewhere far away from here would be good.”
My blood literally went cold at his words, icy trickles moving through my veins. If Lincoln wasn’t here, that meant I wouldn’t have a nemesis anymore.
I tugged my lip between my teeth, drawing my hands up inside my hoodie sleeves so he wouldn’t see my fists clench.
“You’d really leave?” I whispered.