Chapter Eight #2
My voice squeaks and I cough to cover it up. I wonder what kind of person Sel is interested in dating. Probably someone sophisticated, gorgeous, and of course, charming and funny. Like him.
All the things I’m not.
Whoa. That is a weird jump in logic, even for me.
When he doesn’t reply, I nudge him with my elbow. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No, it’s not.” He turns his head to meet my gaze and it’s clear that the tension is back. His eyes are guarded, his jaw clenched. “Hugo is setting me up on a PR date. An athlete, some guy who just came out. I don’t know who. I’ll find out soon enough. So much for being true to myself.”
“Oh.”
Sel takes another sip of his coffee and sighs.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you never know how it’ll turn out. Maybe you’ll want to date him for real?”
“I’m not in the right headspace for that. For anyone,” he whispers. “If you could keep this between us. I’m not supposed to talk about it. Not that some guys on the team won’t suspect once it hits the news, but still.”
“No worries. My lips are zipped.”
“Thanks, Finn.”
Sel’s shoulders slump and I fight the the urge to comfort him with a hug.
Would that be pushing the limit of our tentative friendzone too far, too fast?
Probably. I shove my affectionate instinct aside and reach for my phone instead.
He clearly doesn’t want to talk about relationship stuff. It’s time to pivot.
“So, the reason I stopped by today and plied you with baked goods is because Coach sent us the link to the game and I was hoping we could review it together. I’d appreciate your expert analysis of our first game, partner.”
Sel leans back, his arms crossed. His posture is all defense, but the smile that breaks through tells me I’m the one who’s scored.
Sel
Breakfast with Finn turns into a two-hour breakdown of last night’s game, which turns into lunch, and then an afternoon watching football. Well, Finn’s watching TV. I’m spending more time studying my teammate than the actual game going on in front of me.
“Holy shit!” Finn exclaims as he leaps off the couch, clutching one hand to his head, the other pointing at the screen. “Did you see that interception, Sel! Did you see that?”
“Unreal.”
It’s all I’ve got since I totally missed what was going on in the game. Is it the second or third quarter? I have no clue.
Focus, Sel.
Watch the fucking game, not the rookie.
Finn reaches down for his Diet Coke and takes a swig. “It’s not over yet. One touchdown and LA could turn it around.”
I’m not invested in the game, but I’ve enjoyed Finn’s enthusiasm for it.
Even when he’s sitting still, there’s an unbridled energy about him, and no matter where my thoughts go, they always turn positive while he’s around.
Out of all the players I’ve worked with, there’s something special about his vibe.
He’s simply himself. While he’s not as blunt as Damien, Finn does have something in common with my oldest friend: there’s no artifice with either of them.
“You’re really into football, aren’t you?”
Finn offers me a slow, wide smile, and the biggest dimples I’ve ever seen pop out.
“I was raised on it. Everyone in my family are diehard college fans. I probably could’ve played if I’d wanted, but nothing captured my heart like hockey.”
“Love at first sight?”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips.
“The only time that’s happened to me,” Finn quips.
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Relax, Sel. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.
Just because I’m not into the whole insta lust thing doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a joke about it.
” Finn chuckles and sits back down beside me.
He’s got the manspread going on as he settles into the sofa and leans his head on the back cushion.
“Only, I’m not kidding when it comes to hockey.
The game stole my heart from the moment I watched my first, and there was no looking back. ”
“I know the feeling. When I was growing up, the only thing I ever asked for at Christmas and on birthdays was hockey gear. My friends wanted skateboards, trips to Hawaii, a new Xbox. All I wanted was another pair of skates.”
“You’re from California, right?”
I nod. “I mostly grew up in Santa Barbara.”
“So, not exactly hockey land.”
“Nope. Football, surfing, and volleyball rule.”
“Do you surf?”
“I do.”
“That’s sick! I want to learn so bad. It’s been my dream to be a beach bum in the summer, but it seems like I’m either playing hockey or working on the farm.”
“Maybe you’ll get your chance soon?”
“Yeah, now I can finally afford a vacation. I’m thinking after I visit the fam for Christmas, but before we return from break, I’ll go to Mexico for a few days. See if I can round up some of my friends to go with.”
“You’ll have a blast. I’ve been there so many times—Baha, Mexico City, Tulum— I love it. Cabo too, but you gotta watch the rip currents.”
I reach for my cup of coffee—the third of the day—and take a long, slow sip.
“I’ve only been to the ocean once,” Finn explains. “On the east coast, but I’m not anxious to do that again. I nearly froze my balls off.”
I choke and cough, but thankfully I manage not to spill coffee all over myself or my furniture.
“First me, now you,” Finn quips and pats my back. “The two of us seem to be having an issue swallowing.”
Finn’s comment is innocent, but the image it conjures up isn’t.
I must be sleep deprived or something because I’ve never thought of one of my teammates that way.
Then I remember that I haven’t had sex in…
I rack my brain, and fuck, it’s been over three months.
That’s a long dry spell for me, and probably why my mind is veering off course.
Yes, that’s it. It’s frustration, not Finn.
I place my cup on the table and clear my throat. When I glance up, there’s no mistaking the amused glint in Finn’s eyes. Okay, maybe his comment wasn’t so innocent. I’d bet Finn is salty despite that sweet exterior.
“I thought I was the one with the wisecracks.”
“Think again, old timer.” He winks. “Someone has to pick up your slack.”
“Oh, them’s fighting words, rookie.”
I grab a throw pillow but he’s faster than me, vaulting off the couch. I take a swipe, but the pillow hits him in the butt instead of his head, and he laughs hysterically while diving for the other sofa.
“Game on!”
Finn grabs a pillow in each hand. I do the same as we circle each other like boxers about to unleash in a major competition.
Even in this, we play to win. What follows is a pillow fight of epic proportions, and Finn doesn’t hold back on his attack.
I get a whack to the belly that sucks most of the air out of my lungs, and I bend over, holding my abs. Man, he’s strong as fuck.
“Shit, are you okay?”
I rear up and get my revenge with one satisfying smack in return, and now Finn’s the one doubled over.
“So easy,” I chuckle.
“Sneaky move, Kirkland.”
I laugh harder. “That was nothing.”
I’m about to take another swipe at him to win this round, when I’m interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing.
“Time out,” I offer and reach for my phone.
“Interesting ringtone,” Finn chuckles and collapses on one of my leather chairs. “IDGAF?”
“It’s Hugo,” I reply with an eye roll. “I’ll be right back.”
I tap accept and put the phone to my ear, stalking off toward my bedroom.
“Hello, Hugo.”
“I’ve got your date lined up.”
“Yay, call the wedding planner,” I snark.
“I’m glad your reputed sense of humor’s making a comeback, even if it is at my expense,” Hugo drones. “You’re all set for next Friday; I’m emailing you the details. Don’t piss him off. His name’s Taylor Grimaldi, he plays tight end for…”
“The Warriors here in New York, I recognize his name. I guess I should start looking at socials again because I didn’t know he was out.”