Page 23 of Kitty Season (Green Line Ice #2)

“ S tare any longer and it’ll ignite.” Noah blinks, then squints, then returns his gaze to the pile of shredded paper littering the table top between us.

“What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you fidget this much off the ice, and with no troll in play. Where’s Poppy?”

At the memory of her precious little face rolling away, my stomach drops. “I … I cracked the shits and tossed her.”

“Whoa. That was …” Noah pauses, looking for the right word.

“Dumb as dog shit?” I offer.

“No. Not that, it’s just very un-hockey player-like. I’ve never known one of us to deliberately lose anything linked to a superstition.”

“It was a case of temper over thought, because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m thick as a brick. Need an example?” I offer before he could even ask. “Me going to a party, knowing I’m also going to see Quinn and Troye, shit myself twice, and die a scared little virgin.”

“Okay, wait, wait.” Noah holds out his hands, slowing my racing thoughts with nothing but his palms. “Dumb as dog shit I get, but thick as a brick means …?”

“It means I’m stupid Noah. That’s what it means.” I slump in my seat then decide that’s not moody enough and collapse onto the desk.

When I fled Quinn’s breakfast this morning, my head spinning, I sought refuge in the only place I thought safe from Troye. The library. I know he’s not flunking, but not once have I seen the guy study since he moved in. Books to enable studying, I’ve seen. Him reading one, I’ve not.

Maybe he gathers knowledge through osmosis.

I feel a rough patting of my head. I think Noah means to be soothing.

It’s not. “You. are. not. dumb. You, my friend, are lovesick.” I raise my head, just enough for Noah to see my eye roll.

“I mean it. When I first started sneaking around with Lot, I could barely remember my name. All I thought of was her and the girls.” He unnecessarily cups his pecs like I didn’t know by the girls , he meant her boobs.

“Yes but you were with Lotte, I’m not with them. I have no excuse.”

“Doesn’t matter. Think of it as offside. Quinn and Troye are the blue line you’ve been obsessively skating along for months?—”

“Ahh, could we call it obsessive?”

“Yes we could. Now, even if it’s by the tip of your blade, the offered threesome has pushed you over. You’re in their zone, baby. The—please, Brady, please dick us both down—zone.”

Poor Cindy Porter who’s sitting across from us, almost falls from her chair.

“Shit, Noah. Wanna say it any louder? I’m not sure the couple making-out in the third floor stacks heard you.

” Of course I blush and he laughs. “Why the hell did I tell you? Also, how did you even get in here? You’re not a student anymore. ”

“Wendy on the front desk loves me.” He winks. “And stop changing the subject. Even if the stack fuckers did hear us, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex is a healthy part of life, so ipso-facto, sex between three people is even healthier.”

“Tell me, why are we friends again?”

“Ahh, because I am awesome and open and non judgmental and an ally, and can be trusted with anything. An-y-thing.”

“Thanks for spelling it out for me.”

“You’re welcome.” Pausing, he leans over the table and finally drops his voice, “Now, if this does happen, you need to think logistics.

How do you feel about crossing swords? ‘Cause trust me, no matter how careful you are, it will happen. Some, not saying you, might even want it to happen. Again, not necessarily you, but who knows, ya know?”

A single bead of sweat busts from his temple and slides down his cheek. I can’t help but snort out laughter as he tries to discreetly wipe it away. He’s a clown, but he’s trying so freaking hard to supportive, while also being nosy as fuck.

“Fine, you wanna know if I’m up for it? Then yes. Of course I am. Kind of. I’ve wanted to be with Quinn from the second I saw her. Being with Quinn—even though I have no idea what I’m doing—is not the problem. It’s him. I hate?—”

“Ya, ya, ya, you hate him. But you know what they say?”

“Never take sex advice from an NHL player.”

“No, smart ass. There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

I almost gag on air.

“Love? Him. Troye? You’ve got to be kidding me. I ha—” I stop, catching myself before I can say it again. “I find it incomprehensibly frustrating and cruel that the opportunity to be with this incredible woman has finally arisen, but that opportunity is conditional on him being there, too.”

“Yes, well I find most of you just said incomprehensible, but I’m going with it. Just like you should the three-way. ‘Cause if you do, you know what else will be arisen? Brady Junior.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

Proud of his little joke, and firmly back in his comfort zone, Noah leans back in his chair and crosses his arm over his chest. “Now, I’m backtracking because you said something very important, and I need to remind you just how lucky you are I’m here, ‘cause not only am I awesome, open, non-judgmental and trustworthy, I’m first and foremost?—”

“An ally? ‘Cause you forgot that one.”

“Oh, yeah, an ally. But also, a certified god of sexy times. Just ask Lotte.”

“Yeah, nah. I think I’ll be right.”

“Come on, Big D. You said you have no idea what you’re doing, and I can help with that.

Quinn may be with Troye, but I know she likes you, which means she’ll be into whatever you do.

Just do what feels natural. As for Troye, you don’t have to worry about him either.

Since you’re both there for Quinn’s pleasure. All you need to focus on is her.”

“Right. Yep. Focus on Quinn.” I have no idea what else to say, so I add a nod. Mirroring me, Noah does the same, then adds.

“That is unless …”

“Unless?”

“Unless you want to focus on him, too … a little bit.”

Like the two idiots we are, we just sit there and stare at each other. I can’t help but wonder if Claire told him about our conversation, but I doubt she would betray my trust like that.

The more likely scenario? Maybe I’m not as straight-presenting as I thought. Maybe I should be more open and brave like she was at my age.

“ There is no queer timetable.” She told me. No timetable, but still. Maybe it is time.

“If it was any other guy, focusing on them a bit too would be … fine. That’s not the problem.

Like I said, it’s him. Why does it have to be him?

I mean, there’s more than that too I guess, because I don’t know if I’m bi or pan, or who does what, and what goes where, but I do know the thought of touching, or having another dude’s dick in my mouth, is just as appealing to me as a nice set of lovely jubilees is. ”

Crap, I might faint.

I can’t believe I just rambled that.

To his credit, Noah remains as nonplussed as always, though there is a slight thinning of his lips like he’s fighting a smile.

“Okay, well here’s hint number one, Big D. If you ever want to touch the latter, don’t call them lovely jubblies.”

“Fuck, Noah.” My body shakes with laughter. “I just came out to you and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, no way. I have loads to say about that and more importantly what goes where. The jubblies just seemed like a priority.”

Reaching over, he swipes a piece of paper and pencil, licking the tip as he winks. “Buckle up, Big D. Dr. Love is in session and things are about to get specific.”

A second ago he was a certified god of sexy times. Not sure if a doctorate is an up or down grade, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Since returning from the library, I’ve been hiding in my room. Seeing Troye right now would only end in disaster. I’ll either knock his block off or run, and I really don’t want to run.

My mind is set. Tonight needs to happen. I want to be with Quinn. I want her so badly the thought of touching her makes me see stars. Since this may be my only chance, I refuse to let someone like him take that away from me.

That’s why, under the tutelage of Doctor God of Sexy Times, I’ve come up with a plan.

Troye Asshat Becker with his almost black hair, neck tats, piercings, and the long lean lines of his body, is unfairly and unquestionably hot. So it’s that, all of that that I need to tune into … while actively tuning out his personality.

“Don’t talk to him. Focus on his body, and on Quinn.

” Is my mantra as I dress for the party with Rush, by my favorite Aussie singer, Troye Sivan, blaring through my headphones.

Quinn insists it’s a small gathering of friends, but it is a twenty-first, which is a big deal back home.

And it’s at Coach’s place, so I need to impress him as much as Quinn.

When I think of it like that, there’s no chance of me rocking up in the perfect outfit, so I just need to decide between under or overdressed?

After changing twenty times, my floor is littered with clothes, but I’ve settled on fitted gray dress pants that barely reach my ankles—curse of a tall guy—a white shirt they call a button-up here, and a black tie, figuring if Noah chirps me for it, I can lose it in one tug.

Standing in front of the mirror, I tell myself I look good—okay, maybe mid—and that I feel confident after Noah’s advice. But the nagging voice that loves to remind me how far out of my depth I am in every situation, lingers.

You don’t belong here. You’re going to screw this up. Without ever holding her, Quinn will slip from your grasp.

Pacing the room like a caged lion, repeating every positive affirmation, mantra, and quote, trying to will myself out of the spiral. But the harder I try, the louder the negative becomes, and the more I believe it’s right.

Why can’t I do this? Why do I always feel so … wrong? So out of place?

I wish … I wish my family was here.

It may be an odd thing to do before possibly losing my virginity via a threesome, but I need to talk to my parents.

“Brady, darling is everything okay?”

“Hi Mum, it is, I promise. I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Look, that’s always a lovely thing for a mother to hear, but it’s three a.m. Now you’ve heard me, can I please go back to sleep?” Her voice contains enough spirit for me to know it’s a joke, but still.

“Sorry, go back to bed. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.” My finger is hovering over END CALL when I hear her calling out.

“Brady, Brady don’t hang up. Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry. I feel bad for waking you.”

“Don’t sweetheart. I was joking. You can call me anytime. You know that.”

In the background I hear her rustling and picture her climbing out of bed so she doesn’t wake Dad. “Hang on, Brades. I‘m just going out to the lounge.”

Called it.

In my mind’s eye I walk beside her, exiting the bedroom, tiptoeing down the stairs then entering the lounge of the beach side home my Danish parents bought as newcomers to Australia.

They were babies—the same age as I am now—when they left their family and friends to live on the other side of the world. Again, just like me.

“Did you used to call Farmor and Mormor in the middle of the night?” I ask.

“Good heavens no. Easy going the Danes may be, but you do not want to wake your in-laws for no reason. Especially when their surname means wild boar in English. Now, tell me what’s wrong while I sit and fold Sam’s laundry. I swear that girl gets dirtier than any of you boys ever did.”

Hoping she lets me off the hook, I repeat the lie. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Rubbish. Brady, you haven’t called me in the middle of the night since you first arrived in the States. Just tell me what it is so I can fix it and move on to the goss of Sam’s love life.”

I almost vomit in my mouth. “Sam is fifteen. She better not have a love life, and even if she does, I don’t want to hear about it. Not unless it’s a story of Dad and the boys kicking his ass.”

“Well, you see, that’s the juicy bit. Your dad and brothers are thrilled. There is no boy ass to kick. Sam is dating a girl.”

“Sam’s going out with a girl? And she told you? And you’re okay with it?” Jesus Christ. My baby sister is braver than me.

“She is and we are, but we’ll get to that. Spill the tea, Brady.”

“Mum. Please don’t say that.”

“Why? I’m cool and hip.”

“Pretty sure saying hip is an automatic disqualifier when it comes to cool.”

Easy banter, a signature of my family flows as soon as Mum is sure there is nothing more than a severe case of homesickness at play. The Sam gossip she promised is delivered and tiny slivers of light filter into the dark hole fear over my sexuality has created.

Noah was cool with it. As was Claire. And Mum said the whole family have accepted Sam’s girlfriend Charlie with open arms. Of course this doesn’t mean I’m sharing anything about it tonight. Coming out as queer and providing details of activities relating to it, are two very different things.

All I know, when I slink out of the dorm so Troye doesn’t hear me, and climb into the back of Noah’s waiting Jeep is, I’m traumatized but educated. Shitting my pants, but chomping at the bit.