Chapter Six
Elliot
He woke to a notification from Bennet and didn’t open it. There was no way he could look at anything from Dustin Bennet right now. Or maybe ever again. Not after what happened at pool.
He left the phone on the nightstand and went down to the coffee stand to get a flat white from the guy with the topiary mustache. He took it out the street and walked.
He wasn’t going anywhere. He was running away from his phone, which he’d left on the nightstand with Bennet’s message unread. He looked in the window of the bookshop, and the place he’d bought his mom the soap. He wasn’t looking for anything. He was just keeping his eyes off what was inside him:
I’ll even blow on your cue if you want.
A guy had whispered a dirty joke in his ear, and it was like his whole world had collapsed. He really needed to pull it the fuck together.
When he got back to the hotel he showered and brushed his teeth.
When he came out of the bathroom he still didn’t know what to do with himself.
He couldn’t go the gym, because Bennet would be there.
He didn’t want to go to Pineapple, because Bennet might go there.
Ditto the pool place. He didn’t know a lot of other spots in the city yet.
He got another coffee and went back to the room.
It was eight pm before he had the nerve to look at what Bennet had sent. When he opened it, it wasn’t what he was expecting:
How would you like to make a deal?
Frowning, Elliot carefully typed, with who
Nothing came back right away. Elliot went to the window and looked down at the restaurant across the street. He’d never seen Bennet in it, so he figured it was safe for dinner.
Bennet texted back while he was waiting on his panini.
Jesus fucking christ with ME you idiot
Elliot was immediately angry – which felt good. It was exactly what he needed to feel about Bennet right now. He sent back,
why the fuck would i wanna make a deal with a busted old man bro
The waiter set his plate down while the reply dots bubbled.
Elliot was starving, and the panini he hadn’t eaten yesterday had been on his mind all day.
He picked it up and sank his teeth into it.
It was mind-blowingly good. He groaned and stuffed another bite in his mouth and wrangled it around with his tongue.
He was like…horny for this panini.
He chased it down with a swig of Deschutes, and tapped the phone to see if Bennet had replied yet. He had.
I think you’re gonna be interested in this. I want to propose a bet. An actual one.
Chewing, Elliot sipped his beer and frowned at this. Then he sent back a question mark.
A long minute of dots going, and then a wall of text came back.
What do you think about raising the stakes on our competition with the ladies? It’s still a tie-game. I think I said best of the three the other night, but what about best of five? Or seven or whatever. Or if you’re gonna be here through the summer…IDK. Maybe it would be fun to keep it going.
Interesting.
What was the angle here? Elliot dug sandwich bits out of his molar and sent, you mean like make it a thing
Yeah like be each other’s wingmen. Except…I guess not wingmen exactly because we’re competing. But the girls don’t know that. Pick a date, end of the summer, and whoever has the highest body count on that day wins.
Elliot was frowning, but also smiling a little. What do we win?
ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ Bragging rights. Buy the other guy’s gear next season. Pay for a weekend package somewhere
A weekend package somewhere? Did this guy think he was made of money? Aight aight easy, he sent back, we don’t all have your millions yet tío
Bragging rights then. You can literally tell everyone in Tampa that you fucked more girls than the great Dustin Bennet this summer
That was actually…pretty appealing.
Elliot put the phone down and sat back in his chair. He turned his glass around on the table.
Wingmen through the summer. How long was that? He checked his calendar; pre-season training started in two and a half months.
Two and a half months hanging out with Dustin Bennet.
His stomach did the thing it had been doing every time he thought about Bennet since the pool game. Part of him really didn’t want to spend two months hanging out with Bennet if his stomach was going to be doing that the whole time.
Part of him really did.
Not because he was into him or anything. But because…he fucking loved Dustin Bennet. That sounded weird, too. Not in a weird way; he was just…a big fan.
Elliot’d had Bennet’s Wikipedia page bookmarked since he was old enough to use a phone.
He’d read that page a lot last year, when family stuff got tough and he considered quitting hockey.
He didn’t quit. Because that wasn’t what Bennet would’ve done.
That was pretty much how Elliot had operated since he’d been old enough to lace up his own skates: Bennet did it. Why can’t you?
He’d never tell Bennet all that, obviously.
He finished the beer and flagged down the waiter, and went back to the phone while the guy brought the bill.
Alright i’m game, he sent. When do we start