Chapter 8 #2
“Why not?” Aidan said, shrugging, like he hadn’t practically made a second career out of being bitchy when he got recognized.
“Levi’s really mellowed you,” Lane said as they headed towards their entrance.
“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. Then shot Lane a sharp sideways look. “Kind of like how Trevor’s mellowing you?”
Lane nearly dropped the beers he was holding. “What?” he choked out.
Aidan shot him a knowing look. A sympathetic look, really. Which was even worse.
“Come on,” Aidan said, “we’re not blind, okay? You two were at each other’s throats for months. You were prickly as hell around him. And now all of a sudden you’re pulling your punches with him, and not just that, but you’re telling him what a great WAG he’d make?”
“Trevor’s straight,” Lane lied weakly.
Aidan caught his arm right before they headed down to their seats. “I’m not telling you to out him without his permission. Levi lectured me about this a lot—”
“As he should,” Lane interrupted.
If it was possible, Aidan’s expression grew even more sympathetic. Not galling at all. “Don’t change the subject. I’m just saying, whatever’s going on between you is between you.”
“Oh, thanks,” Lane said bitchily.
“But if you need anyone to talk to,” Aidan said, continuing on like he hadn’t said anything, “my door’s always open. I know how tough it is to fall for someone you’re not technically supposed to. And on top of that, I don’t want this to fuck with our team chemistry right before the playoffs.”
It would’ve been a lot easier if Lane could’ve believed the second reason was why Aidan was saying anything.
The old Aidan’s motivations would have started and ended with the second reason.
He’d have come down like a ton of bricks on both Lane and Trevor, if he thought for even a second that what they were doing was going to mess with the team, especially during playoffs.
But this was the new and improved, the in love Aidan, and it was obvious he was saying anything more for the former reason than the latter.
“Okay,” Lane finally said.
“That’s it?” Aidan raised a questioning eyebrow.
“You said it yourself,” Lane retorted. “I’m not going to out him without his permission.”
Aidan nodded slowly. “Alright.” He paused. “And about the film—”
“No,” Lane said in a hard voice.
But to his surprise, Aidan stopped pushing and just laughed, slapping Lane on the back. “I’ll quit it, I promise. Let’s go enjoy the rest of the game.”
The moment they retook their seats, Levi was full of a thousand questions, starting and ending with what had taken them so fucking long.
“Baby, calm down,” Aidan said. “The line was crazy.”
“Exactly why we should’ve called Ramsey,” Levi said.
“And Aidan got recognized,” Lane added.
Levi’s eyebrows crept up. “And you were nice to everyone?”
“Of course I was,” Aidan said, rolling his eyes. “Signed a shit ton of autographs and everything. Gonna tell Josh next time I see him that I’m making inroads on his fanbase.”
“Mean,” Levi said, sounding delighted by that. “You guys missed a sweet goal from Brock Jones. Ramsey got the assist, again.”
“Levi and I were thinking we should text Nate in the third. Let him know we’re here,” Trevor said.
“What, why?” Lane questioned. “So he can be pissed that we showed up and didn’t tell him?”
“No,” Trevor said, leaning in more, making Lane’s pulse accelerate unsteadily.
He’d only had a single beer, had barely broken into his second, but he felt a little lightheaded.
It was just how close Trevor was sitting.
It was one thing for him to do at home, where it didn’t mean anything, but doing that here?
It felt like Trevor was blanketing himself over Lane, laying fucking claim to him.
Lane had never imagined that would be a turn-on, but God, it was.
“Then why?” Lane wondered.
“Obviously so he can get us in the locker room and we can ogle all the hot, naked sweaty men,” Levi chimed in.
Aidan swatted him. “Keep your fantasies under control.”
“Bro, I’m trying,” Levi whined.
Even though everyone on planet Earth, and possibly also the aliens in other solar systems, knew that Levi barely even looked at anyone other than Aidan these days.
They were truly gross and disgusting and Lane was not jealous, not at all.
“Actually,” Trevor said, “we thought they might want to go out after.”
“Like a triple date,” Levi added excitedly.
Aidan smacked him on the shoulder.
“Whoops, of course not like that. A double date and then . . . whatever you two are,” Levi corrected, blinking innocently like he hadn’t done that one hundred percent on purpose.
“Exactly,” Lane said gruffly. He and Trevor weren’t anything.
But then Trevor put his hand on his thigh and squeezed, like he was trying to say without actually vocalizing it, that he disagreed. That it would, in fact, be a triple date.
“But then we thought, maybe they won’t want to go out after,” Levi said. “Not with Ramsey’s two-point night.”
“And he’s back on the power play,” Trevor echoed, nodding.
“Do power plays make him hot?” Aidan asked, sounding mystified, still.
Levi made an annoyed noise. “We really need to actually make it through more than the first ten minutes of one of these games.”
“Hey, good news, you did today,” Lane said, a little desperately.
Aidan and Levi exchanged coy glances. “Hey,” Levi said, “we really did. Didn’t even text you if you wanted to go grab a quickie in the bathroom.”
Aidan flushed bright red.
“Not that we would ever do that,” Aidan protested.
“Oh yeah, definitely not the pair of you that Ramsey had to tell to quit fucking in the bathroom at Vault,” Lane said.
He might not have said it, but he was annoyed that Aidan had pushed about the Trevor thing, and then the video-study thing.
Less than the old Aidan would’ve pushed, sure, but he’d still pushed.
“That definitely was not us,” Levi said, the edge of smugness in his voice making it clear that there was no question it had been them.
Trevor just rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even talk to Ramsey and I could’ve told you it was you two,” he said.
“Slander,” Levi said.
“So,” Aidan said, clearly desperately trying to change the subject, “are we texting Nate or not?”
“If he finds out that we came and we didn’t even give him a heads-up, he’ll be pissed,” Lane said. He’d always intended to text his best friend midway through the third. “We’ll let him be the one to decide if he wants to see us, or if he’s feeling a type of way about Ramsey’s two-point night.”