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“You don’t wanna be pretty?”
“I don’t know, I’d rather be handsome, like you.”
My face floods with heat, but he doesn’t seem to care. He keeps shuffling closer on the pillow until his mouth is really close to mine. I’m painfully aware of the fact I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, so I keep my lips clamped shut.
He puts his hand over his mouth and says. “You’re pretty, deal with it. And I need to brush my teeth.”
While he’s in the bathroom, I Google how long you should wait to have sex after getting a concussion. The general consensus seems to be a few days if you don’t have any lingering symptoms.
“Alexei, how long before you can play hockey again?” I ask when he comes back in. His expression clouds and I regret ruining his mood.
“I’ll probably be fine to get back to practice in a week, maybe less, but I won’t be able to play the next few games.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
My head snaps up, my heart leaping into my throat, but when I look at him, he’s smiling.
“You said you don’t want me to get hurt, and if I play hockey, there’s a good chance I’ll get hurt.”
He’s right, and I hate that.
Before I can think too hard on it, he’s bending down and kissing me. His breath like toothpaste and his face like a brunet Captain America.
“Alexei?”
“Yeah?”
“We should talk about last night.”
I half expect him to back away. Now I know him a little better, I see all that bristling when we first met as him acting like a cornered animal. Not the cocky asshole I worried he might be.
He doesn’t back away though. He takes a seat on the bed and starts rubbing my leg through the comforter. It’s such a weirdly familiar action, I forget what I wanted to say.
“What do you wanna talk about?” He asks.
“How do you feel?”
He answers without hesitation. “Good. How do you feel?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Why am I the only one who needs to talk about my feelings?”
“Well… it wasn’t my first time so…”
He looks down.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, you don’t have anything to apologize about. It’s none of my business who you slept with before me.”
“I know it’s just…” I squirm under the blanket, but he doesn’t move his hand from my leg. “I don’t know. You didn’t look happy about it.”
“I’m jealous, sure.” He shrugs.
“You’rejealous?”