14. Chapter 14
“I swear,” Ethan said, leaning forward, the candlelight glinting off his golden-brown curls and reflecting in his eyes, “I kept expecting you to text me. Call me. Tell me our date wasn’t happening after all.”
Hank had had a few moments himself where he’d been sure that before he could finish getting ready and take the elevator downstairs, Inverness would call him up and say, Never mind, I changed my mind. You gotta go back to Syracuse.
But that hadn’t happened. They were having their redo. Hank knocking on Barney’s door and Ethan opening it, looking just as gorgeous as he had that night in September.
So far, everything had gone right. They’d taken an Uber to the restaurant, which had proven to be just as sweet and quiet as Dom had promised.
The food was delicious, and Hank had spent the last hour mesmerized by the way the flickering light played on Ethan’s face and the sheen of olive oil on his lips. How Ethan’s foot nudged against his own early on in the meal and then tucked itself around Hank’s ankle midway through.
They’d not run out of things to talk about, either. But then they’d never run out of things to talk about, not during the last eighteen months, anyway.
Had he expected that maybe the conversation would be very different now that they were finally on a date?
Maybe. But the truth was, this was easy and reassuring in a way that Hank had never anticipated.
Dates had always felt awkward and difficult, Hank worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing, and pissing the girl off.
But he knew exactly how to talk to Ethan, how to tease him, how to make him laugh.
How to make his eyes light up when he brought up the power play drills they’d run this morning at practice.
“You could not run a power play better than Jonesy,” Ethan argued lightheartedly, smirk on his mouth that Hank couldn’t wait to kiss off. “I’d love to see you try.”
“Maybe you will,” Hank said. He wasn’t sure either, but anything that made Ethan smile like that was worth saying, even if it was ridiculous.
“You could run a better power play than my brother,” Ethan said, leaning forward, his hand brushing Hank’s.
Hank wanted to take it in his, hold it. But that was crazy to do in public, even if clearly nobody in this restaurant cared.
Crazy to do at all, really. Did guys hold hands?
He hadn’t even wanted to hold the hands of girls that he’d dated, but Ethan’s was so tempting, right there for the taking.
“Charlie?” Hank asked skeptically.
“Ha, like he’d ever relinquish his spot on the power play.
Besides, he’s better where he’s at, on the wing.
Ready to nail the puck into the net.” Ethan wasn’t wrong there.
Charlie was lethal from that spot in the power play.
Hank was regularly glad he didn’t have to figure out how to defend against him. “No, I meant Avery.”
Hank shouldn’t have been surprised; Ethan hadn’t made any secret of his shining up of Hank’s hockey skills. But Avery Barnes? Yeah fucking right.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Avery? I don’t think so.”
“Avery’s not that great,” Ethan said dismissively.
Impossible not to bark out a laugh. “Are you joking? He’s fucking fantastic.”
Ethan just made an absolutely adorable face. “Not you too.”
Avery was too old for Hank to have ever faced him, in any of the many international tournaments they’d both played in. And Hank was generally pretty grateful that was true.
“Uh, well, yeah,” Hank admitted awkwardly. “He’s so good? Like just not defensively, which he’s a freaking monster behind the blue line. I don’t know how he makes the plays he does sometimes. The way he skates, the vision he has—”
Ethan snorted.
But Hank wasn’t done. “And then there’s how good he is offensively? He runs the best power play in the league. Efficient as shit.”
“Then how come the Mavs aren’t number one in power play scoring?”
Hank rolled his eyes. “Because it’s the Mavs. He’s getting the guys the puck, but they’re not playing it or shooting it right.”
Leaning back, Ethan regarded him with an almost serious expression. The glee in his eyes gave him away. It made Hank feel a little lightheaded. Like maybe this whole night had gotten away from him, and he wasn’t about to go looking for the brakes now.
Brakes? What brakes?
“So we’ve now figured out your one weakness,” Ethan declared.
Hank thought it was pretty fucking obvious that his one weakness was Ethan.
But Ethan just grinned at him and declared, “It’s Avery.”
“Sure, man,” Hank said, chuckling. “If you say so.”
“Maybe you’re gonna have to prove it to me that it’s not,” Ethan teased, the way he leaned forward just as alluring as the knowing, flirtatious edge to his voice.
Hank’s mouth went dry as he picked up the bill the waiter had left ten minutes ago.
He hadn’t been in any real hurry for this dinner to end, but now suddenly, he could see the advantages to paying and getting out of here.
He still wasn’t sure if he was as certain as Ethan was about taking advantage of whichever empty apartment was available, but he also wasn’t not certain, either.
He slid some cash into the folder and gave Ethan a look. He knew it promised something; he just wasn’t sure yet just what it promised.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Hank said.
Ethan pouted, adorably. It wasn’t hard, looking at him like this, seeing him as the youngest of four that had routinely been spoiled and doted on.
But Ethan wasn’t only that guy, either. He was remarkably chill, drama-free, and straightforward.
Never bothered pretending what he wanted was what he wanted.
And what he’d been wanting, for some time Hank suspected, was him.
What he’d ever done to get this lucky, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to turn it down. Not now.
“Let’s go,” Hank suggested, and this time, he reached down and snagged Ethan’s hand. Ethan glanced at their hands, tangled together, and then back up at Hank’s face, and the grin on his face was nearly blinding.
He had to let go, for a moment, for them both to get into their coats, but when they were on, Ethan reached out for him, this time.
“This something you’re into?” Ethan wondered as they exited the restaurant, hand in hand.
It wasn’t that far to their building, and Hank thought the walk might be good for them.
Either clear both of their heads or the brisk night might bring them even closer together.
Tease at the possibility of the heat they could make together.
“I’m into you,” Hank said, because it was the truth.
Ethan squeezed his hand. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
Honestly, Hank hadn’t either. But the distance had given him perspective; reminded him constantly of all the things he’d had half-shaped wants for in his head that he’d never gotten to do.
But now he could, and he wasn’t about to push them away again.
“Is that okay?” Hank asked, even though he was pretty sure.
“Are you kidding?” Ethan glanced over at him as they turned the block. “I only wanted it forever.”
“It wasn’t that long,” Hank said lightly, even though sometimes it had felt like a fucking eternity.
Ethan looked outraged and Hank couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you joking? I was kinda dying over here.”
“Uh, yeah. Me too,” Hank admitted.
How many times had he seriously considered going AWOL from the Black Knights and driving the four hours down to New York; just so he could have one more kiss?
Well, he could have more than just one kiss, tonight.
When they reached the building, Ethan pulled his phone out and shot Charlie a text.
Nerves were sloshing around in Hank’s stomach, along with the wine he’d drunk at dinner.
He should be smart, cautious. A team player. He should speak up and say, it would be weird for us to hook up in Max’s guest room. Or in Barney’s.
But he didn’t, because if he said it out loud, he was going to want it even more than he already did.
“Oh good,” Ethan said, glancing down at his phone as they walked towards the elevator. “Charlie says they’ve vacated Max’s place.”
And somehow, that was worse than potentially doing it in Ethan’s bed. Maybe it was still in Barney’s apartment, but it was Ethan’s bedroom, where he’d been living for months.
Hank was just up to the Bandits for the first time all year and living in his captain’s apartment and now Ethan expected them to .
. . well, Hank wasn’t sure. They’d had sex in September, but it had felt accidental, almost, like they’d gotten carried away.
This didn’t feel like that at all. This felt purposeful, and Hank wanted to think he was over squirming about this, but it turned out that he wasn’t. Not yet.
He didn’t know how to say that to Ethan, though, because what if he thought that Hank didn’t want him? Because Hank wanted him.
Maybe he shouldn’t have worried, because Ethan turned to him, and the look on Hank’s face must’ve given him away.
“Oh. You don’t want to,” Ethan said. The elevator door dinged closed and at least Ethan still pressed the button to Max’s floor.
It was instinctual, almost natural, to push Ethan against one of the shiny metal walls and kiss him, tongue sliding into his mouth like they’d been doing this whole time instead of just once.
Hank knew it would be easy to lose himself to the kiss, but he pulled back before he could. “I want to,” he murmured against Ethan’s lips.
“Then . . .” Ethan trailed off, looking uncertain in a way that Hank hated.
The elevator opened and Hank tugged him into the hallway, hand squeezing Ethan’s as they made their way to Max’s apartment.
“It’s just, this isn’t my place. It’s Max’s place.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, frowning. The cutest little confused wrinkled appearing between his brows. “Do you want me to text Charlie and tell him and Max to come up here? Would it be better if we were in my bedroom?”