Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
[Video Description: All four members of Sticks+Stones squeezed into a featureless room, performing a cover of Fall Out Boy’s “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out” in their own style.]
@SticksStonesBand: Happy Holidays. Or not. #falloutboycover #emochristmas
It’ll be a brand-new year in around six hours, and this is not how Nick wanted to spend the last of this one.
Matt’s back in Vegas. Nick knows that much—from Instagram-stalking, not from actual communication. Matt hasn’t texted him since Christmas.
He’s a big boy. He can handle it. He just needs a little time to lick his wounds, then he’ll be back to normal.
His phone beeps, and his heart stutters—but it’s just Connor, wishing him Happy New Year from Quebec.
He’s sent a selfie: him and some guy Nick doesn’t recognize, pressed right up against him, their cheeks flush together, a big smile on his pale face.
Studying the picture closer, he’s got an arm tucked around Connor’s waist.
That must be Théo. Nick’s not sure what he was expecting, but it’s not that. He looks so … ordinary. So nice. Neat ash-blond hair, a nose that looks to have been broken at least once, freckles across the crooked bridge of it. Bright hazel eyes, a lean frame. He looks happy. They both do.
It’s the first time since the summer that Nick feels jealousy surrounding Connor LaPorte.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m sick of you moping.” Marco’s voice cuts into his thoughts. Nick looks up and sees his best friend dressed up in a nice green shirt. “We’re going to Hugsy’s party.”
“Cool, have fun. Tell everybody hi.”
“Nope.” Nick yelps as he’s grabbed by the collar and yanked to his feet. “We’re going. My house, my rules. You’ve got fifteen minutes. Get pretty, Tiernan.”
“What?” No, absolutely not. The last thing Nick needs right now is to be surrounded by his teammates, having to play straight and be The Captain.
Worse, surrounded by couples, because that’s what Hugsy’s party will be.
All the single guys are out on the strip, looking for company for the evening.
Nick was invited to that, too, but that actually is the last thing he needs. Like, ever.
His best friend bullies him off the couch and up the stairs, where Nick discovers Lindsay waiting in his room with his outfit already picked out.
She looks stunning in a tight little gold dress, makeup perfect and hair half in rollers.
She also looks far too amused at her husband’s manhandling of Nick.
“I could just go home,” Nick threatens half-heartedly. Lindsay giggles.
“C’mon, you big baby. It won’t be all night. Home and in pajamas by eleven. Promise,” she swears, thrusting a shirt at him. “Don’t neglect your team just because you feel bad, Captain.”
“Low blow,” Nick mutters, glaring reproachfully.
Between the pair of Perezes, Nick is ready and presentable in the fifteen minutes he was given. In the car, Marco puts on some cheesy party playlist, and Nick’s grateful mostly because it doesn’t have a single Sticks+Stones song on it.
The short drive spent bopping along to pop classics is enough to get Nick smiling by the time they ring Hugsy’s doorbell. His wife is the one who answers, her dark brows rising in surprise at the sight of them.
“Trix! We didn’t think you’d make it.” He gives a guilty half-smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
“Mom and Dad didn’t want to leave me at home by myself,” he says wryly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I guess I’m not old enough yet.”
She laughs, stepping aside to let him in and reaching out to greet Lindsay. “Well, we’re glad to have you. Come on through. Everyone’s in the den.”
The festivities are already well underway, and a cheer goes up at their arrival. Nick is immediately bundled into a hug between Hugsy and GJ, Hugsy ruffling his hair with a grin. “Glad you came, bro! We were worried about you, flying solo tonight.”
“Jesus, I’m fine,” Nick groans, shoving them both away gently, ignoring the pulse of guilt in his chest. They care about him, and he’s lying to them all.
Worse than that, he’s letting his team down.
As captain, he should be a given at these things.
“If I wanted mothering I’d have gone back to Jersey for the weekend, Christ.”
Nick hates to admit it, but the party is not actually as bad as he’d thought it would be. Everyone’s in the best moods they’ve been in all month, all tipsy and relaxed. With a game against Toronto tomorrow, no one’s getting fully wasted.
So sure, he has fun. It’s good to be surrounded by happy people. But he’s still glad when Lindsay catches his eye a little after ten and gives a discreet thumbs-up, then starts making noise about wanting to get an early night.
As soon as he steps through the doorway of the Perez house, his shoulders slump with exhaustion and the smile drops off his face. His cheeks ache from maintaining it.
“I’m gonna make hot chocolate,” Lindsay declares.
Nick makes a noise of enthusiasm and heads upstairs to change into something comfortable.
He finds the cats in his bedroom, tangled together in the center of his bed, and Dolly purrs happily at the sight of him.
He fusses over her until Billy takes a swipe at his hand, then leaves the trio be.
Even his cat has a better love life than him. How depressing.
Nick knows that his friends won’t let him turn in early. But they’ll at least let him curl up with hot chocolate and get lost in his own thoughts, the TV on low with some New Year’s celebration concert thing, waiting for the fireworks to begin in an hour.
“Anyone got any resolutions?” Lindsay asks, not lifting her head from her husband’s chest. Nick scoffs.
“Get better taste in men?” he suggests ruefully. Marco tosses a box of tissues at his head.
“How about learn to communicate my feelings,” the older man says pointedly, rolling his eyes when Nick flips him off.
Nick only had about three days of sympathy from his best friend before the “I told you so” comments came out, Marco insisting he should have been upfront about things in the first place.
“I can still leave,” Nick threatens, though it’s half-hearted and they all know it.
A new singer steps onto the stage on TV, and Lindsay turns the volume up a little, ending the conversation there. Nick’s only half paying attention.
Watching musicians on stage reminds him of seeing Matt in his element, and a little seed of hurt sprouts between his ribs. God, this isn’t how he thought he’d be spending the last day of 2022. For the first time in years, he’d had hope for this one.
He should know better by now.
A loud knock on the door startles all three of them. Nick almost drops his mug.
“Trix, you’re it,” Marco declares, not making any move to dislodge his dozing wife. Grumbling, Nick drags himself to his feet. If it’s one of their teammates, he swears to God…
Throwing open the front door, any annoyed words Nick might have been building up die in his throat—
It’s Matt, windswept and gorgeous, his cheeks rosy above the purple scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Oh,” Nick says dumbly. Matt’s lips twitch in a hesitant attempt at a smile.
“Can we talk?” he asks, shoulders hunched against the night air. “Inside, preferably? It’s cold as balls out here.”
Nick still can’t speak, but he allows Matt in.
Matt unwraps his scarf and tucks it into the pocket of his coat, along with the matching gloves.
Beneath the coat he’s wearing an unfairly well-tailored suit, dark red and slightly shimmery over a black button-up.
He’s probably just come from some swanky music industry gathering, or some star’s house party. What the hell is he doing here?
“Hi,” Matt says with the shyest, most heartbreakingly tentative grin. He takes a step closer to Nick, close enough for Nick to smell his cologne. “I, uh … it’s good to see you.”
“How—” Nick’s voice cracks, and he coughs. “How did you know where I’d be tonight?” Matt has—as far as Nick knows—never been to Marco’s house before.
Matt ducks his head sheepishly. “Well. Um.”
It hits Nick at once. He takes a couple steps backwards, enough to look into the living room, where Marco and Lindsay are still curled up together. They look completely unsurprised by the late visitor. “Traitors.”
Marco blows Nick a kiss. “You’ll thank me later.”
“Nick.” Nick snaps his gaze back to Matt. The musician has his arms wrapped around his own waist in a protective gesture. He looks smaller than Nick’s ever seen him before. “I’ll leave, if you want. I just … wanted to clear the air. Will you please just talk to me?”
Part of Nick is tempted to tell him to fuck off; to cut his losses and make a clean break; go into the new year with no mess.
But a bigger part of him is aching with the urge to wrap this beautiful boy in his arms and kiss him until he stops looking so sad.
“Let’s—We can go upstairs. For privacy.” Nick shoots a pointed look back at his two best friends, who immediately pretend not to have been eavesdropping.
On trembling legs, Nick leads the way upstairs to his bedroom. He’d forgotten about the cats, who glare balefully at him for disturbing them. Over his shoulder, Matt coos softly.
Once Matt’s inside, he closes the door. The awkward silence that follows makes Nick squirm. He opens his mouth, but Matt beats him to it.
“I got a text from Marco earlier,” he starts, baffling Nick.
“Yeah, telling you I was here.” Nick will be having words with his best friend about that.
“No. Well, yes, but, before that. He said something, and I … I need you to be honest with me, Nick.”
Panic flares in Nick, his heart skipping a beat. “What did Marco tell you?” If he’s said anything about Nick’s stupid, mushy feelings, Nick is going to kill him.