Page 9

Brad

E verything had been going well since that weird moment between Lance and Alex and me three days ago. Just because Alex had been sitting a little farther away from me on the couch, and just because I came home yesterday to hear him and Lance laughing in the kitchen instead of him waiting for me like he always did, and just because I noticed he’d been escaping the room whenever I walked around the house in my boxers didn’t mean that there was a problem.

It was fine.

We were fine.

Everything was fine .

I mean, it wasn’t like I was upset that we hadn’t played Xbox together for the past three nights after classes. I just wanted to know what was going on. And that’s why I was sitting in the living room at 7PM on a Friday night instead of going out with the guys from the team like I always did.

Because I wanted to make sure that Alex was okay. Because I wanted to tell him I was okay. Even though I didn’t know what I was okay about. Because I didn’t know what the hell was going on with Lance and Alex, and because I couldn’t get that stupid dreamy look of Alex’s out of my brain.

Who the hell looks at a guy like that when he’s sweeping an eyelash out of his face?

I wanted to be a childish dickhead and pretend to get an eyelash stuck so Alex would come and take care of me, but I’d rather do that kind of shit naturally. Plus, I’d look dumb if there wasn’t actually an eyelash there.

I frowned as I hurled myself back onto the couch— our couch. Dad brought it all the way to our house from Alex’s parents’ garage, and we’d spent every single day on it since we moved in. It was another one of our rituals.

And I was just stuck going round and round and round, thinking of ways I could get Alex to relax enough to tell me what was going on. We were best friends, we should be like that.

Or maybe I should have just stormed into Lance’s room and demanded to know what he thought of Alex, like a proper friend would.

I hadn’t felt like this since those months after I sucked him off after high school. He started avoiding me, and I was so worried he was going to leave for the NHL without saying goodbye.

Until he showed up at my front door one morning looking absolutely furious and told me he wasn’t joining the Wranglers unless I was there too. Followed by a “So don’t fuck this up, okay?” in a rough, angry voice that kind of maybe turned me on.

Next thing I knew, we were packing up for college, moving into a hockey house, and we never spoke about the blow job again.

I threw my head back to eye up the bedroom door right behind the couch like I could summon Alex out from the depths with a stare. I should have just gone over and knocked, but I was being weird.

Our house was laid out with four bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs, just like all the other houses on our street. Alex and Taylor were on the bottom, Chase, Porter, Lance, and I took up the top rooms. We had a huge living room that was great for parties but got cold too easily. Though there was room for a giant TV to hang on the wall, which totally made up for the temperature.

Alex’s door was right at the bottom of the stairs, and, if I casually angled my head, I could easily see it.

Chase and Taylor had crushed themselves onto our couch to play on our Xbox, but I was only half paying attention. Just in case Alex came out of his room and wanted to talk to me or something.

Which was why I perked up when his bedroom door opened. It sort of pissed me off how my heart flew to my throat. I didn’t get nervous around Alex.

I mean, why should I be worried about what we were going to say to each other when we’d basically done everything together our whole lives?

But then I caught something I never thought I’d see.

Alex turned, climbing the stairs with a towel on his arm, obviously aiming for the upstairs bathroom. And, as soon as he reached the top step, I bolted off the couch, panic fucking storming in me as I sprinted up the stairs toward him.

I got to the end of the corridor as he entered the bathroom, and stood outside, leaning against the wall, furiously tapping my foot. I needed to grab him before any of the other guys saw the crime against nature he was committing.

The moment the bathroom door opened, I pounced, blocking him from the corridor, and anyone he might blind if he escaped.

I still had to nab him to check and see if my brain wasn’t just making shit up.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I hissed.

Alex froze, looking at me like a startled deer.

I rocked back on my heels as I took in Alex’s terrifying gear.

He glanced down at himself, at the ragged jean cutoffs and the black silk button-up shirt that met his thighs, blazing with a cartoon fire pattern that ran all the way around the bottom.

His hair was so gelled it actually shone, and he’d added a hideous chunky gold medallion that rested on his chest.

“You look like a professional darts player. Where are you going dressed like that?”

Alex’s gaze sped from mine, jumping around the corridor as he wrung his hands together.

But I wasn’t focused on that.

Because he started playing with his bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth, and I suddenly didn’t want him to say another word. I was just staring at it because I couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloss or he’d just been licking them so much they glistened.

“Um…Er…” He cleared his throat, and I lazered in on him even more. “I’m going on a date,” he mumbled.

It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up. It was like a loading screen just appeared behind my eyes and the bar was lagging.

“And you’re going out in that ?” My mouth took over as the word ‘date’ beat around in my mind.

“What’s wrong with this?” he asked, checking himself out again.

To be honest, he did wear the same two pairs of jeans and five T-shirts on rotation every week, and the only thing I’d seen him wear that wasn’t dark blue was our hockey gear. And he had bought some seriously questionable clothes over the years, but it had never been as bad as that shirt.

I couldn’t believe I’d gone this long and only just realized how terrible his style was.

“I literally can’t put into words how wrong it is.” I threw my arm up against the door frame to stop him from leaving. If Chase or Taylor saw him in that, he would never, ever hear the end of it. “There is no way I’m letting you leave the house like that.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head. “I thought this was good? It’s stylish. It should be fine for a first date.”

“Nu-uh, no way.” I shook my head furiously. I didn’t even want to look at the shirt. He was going to burn out the skulls of everyone within ten feet of him. And I was going to ignore the ugly feeling that sprung up in me when he said ‘first date,’ because this was way more important—for now.

“Alex, man, I love you, but I can’t deal with this.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes going suddenly wide. I swear some of the color faded from his skin, but his shirt was so intensely black and the flames were so powerfully red that I couldn’t even tell.

I was already on eggshells with him, even if he didn’t feel it. Insulting his dress sense could make everything a million times worse.

“When does your date start?” I sighed. Maybe there was enough time to sort out this train wreck. I could at least give him a better shirt.

“At eight. But I wanted to get there early, just in case.”

“A whole hour early!?”

“Well, it takes some time to get there.” He looked at me sheepishly. It was the small grin he had on his face that made my jaw tick.

“Okay, sure. We’ve still got time.” I puffed out my chest and crowded him enough that he stepped back in surprise.

“Hang on. What are you doing?”

“You’ll see!” I shouted as I forced him inside the bathroom and slammed the door.