Page 12 of Perfect Storm (Toronto Thunder #1)

Of course, Aidan hadn’t been dumb enough to think that he could have a buffer at the house all the time.

He and Levi were going to be living together, at least in the short-term.

They’d be alone sometimes. But Aidan hoped at least that it wouldn’t be right away.

That he’d have some time to recalibrate his brain first. To think of Levi as a teammate.

As his best friend’s little brother. Not as a guy he’d kissed.

Not as a guy that he’d like to do more than kiss.

But he hadn’t planned that his living room would be full, hours later, with a bunch of teammates, Levi in the middle of them, cheering and yelling as Wes got annihilated at Mario Kart yet again.

“You should take a turn,” Dawson said to Aidan, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Nobody wants to see that,” Aidan said.

“I know you know how to play video games. You played in college.”

“That was a long time ago.” It felt like a lifetime ago, honestly. When things had been so different, his life and his career stretching endlessly and optimistically in front of him.

“Not that long,” Dawson said bluntly. “I’m the one who’s divorced and washed up. So you can’t act like that’s you too.”

Maybe Aidan wasn’t divorced, but he’d never gotten close enough to anyone to marry them in the first place. Except Morris. And that had turned out so fucking well.

“No,” Aidan agreed.

“Come on,” Dawson said persuasively. “Do it for me. Remind me what you were like ten years ago.”

“Making me feel old,” Aidan retorted, but he leaned over the couch and considered tapping Levi on the shoulder. He had one of the controls. Had yet to lose, in fact. But instead, Aidan tapped Wes, who had been losing, regularly.

“My turn,” Aidan said and Wes glanced back at him, nodding.

“Sure,” Wes said, because he was not stupid. He knew his place here, on the team, and also in Aidan’s condo. He moved off the couch, handing Aidan the controller as he went.

It was probably a mistake to take Wes’ seat, because he’d been pressed right up next to Levi—practicing that good team bonding, Aidan told himself firmly, nothing else—but it would look weirder if he didn’t.

He was going to have to get used to touching Levi, anyway, and existing in the same close bubble with him.

It should’ve been easy, like he’d adjusted to everyone else he’d ever played with, but he kept thinking of that kiss.

And how much he’d like to do it again.

Aidan dropped down on the couch, ignoring the thrill up his spine as their legs pressed together. The shorts today weren’t eye-searing but they were short, and Aidan specifically did not think about how toned and muscled his exposed thighs were.

“You ready to go, Flynn?” Levi turned to him, wild grin on his face.

Aidan had never thought he was handsome or even cute.

To him, Levi had always been the youngest Banks.

Landry was objectively the most attractive of the three, but Levi had grown into his face and his looks the last few years.

He was wearing his hair a little longer than he had been, and it curled in dark brown tufts over his head, his much lighter eyes speckled with hazel flecks warm and affectionate as they gazed at Aidan.

“Born ready,” Aidan retorted.

He’d wanted Levi to go back to the way they were before, but he experienced a flash of annoyance that Levi could look at him just the way he always had. Especially when Aidan wasn’t sure he could perform the same radical recalibration.

Levi started the game.

And Aidan was out of practice. He felt every one of those ten years since he’d picked up a controller, and the fact that he’d never played this particular game before and everyone else clearly had.

“Geez, bro, you suck at this,” Levi teased as he half fell into Aidan on the couch, their race finally finished. Levi had won again. Cam made a noise of annoyance as he came in second again, and Aidan pulled in at the very end, way behind everyone else.

Aidan let out a frustrated huff. “It’s been a few years,” he admitted.

“You’re as bad as Logan,” Levi complained.

“I spent two weeks last summer teaching him to play Call of Duty, and I’d have claimed it was the toughest thing I’d ever done, but you might be even more of a project.

” Levi knocked their shoulders together, still grinning.

“But I’m willing to tackle it, if you are, bro. ”

“Sure, bro,” Aidan retorted. He didn’t like losing. He didn’t like the fact that Levi might have to fucking tutor him more.

He lost two more rounds, relinquished his controller back to Wes, and retreated to the bathroom.

He peed, then stared at himself in the mirror as he fixed his hair, shoved his cap back on. His cheeks were flushed no matter how much cold water he splashed on them.

And he wasn’t thinking of Morris, hadn’t thought of him once, not since this morning, when he’d woken up and realized, with a pressing finality, that Levi would be arriving today, and when he did, Aidan couldn’t deal if it was just the two of them.

That was good though. Aidan told himself it had to be.

Better that the thoughts of his new teammates and camp, starting tomorrow, pushed the painful, pointless thoughts of Mo and the frustrating unfairness of the whole situation out of his mind.

Except that Aidan couldn’t quite believe that it was just the teammates and football that had superseded Morris.

It was undeniable that a good chunk of those thoughts were owned by Levi, and as much as Aidan wished they were, they hadn’t been very platonic thoughts.

Maybe if Levi had worn longer shorts, he’d have had a chance in hell of keeping his mind above the belt.

Aidan pushed open the bathroom door, kind of wishing that everyone else would leave, and hoping they would stay forever.

Of course, Levi was right there, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, like he was waiting on Aidan. Not to vacate the bathroom so he could use it, because he had his own bathroom, attached to his bedroom.

So he was just waiting for Aidan, period.

Aidan pretended his breath wasn’t coming a little faster and that flush wasn’t right back on his cheeks like he hadn’t just tried to cool himself off.

“Hey, bro,” Levi said.

God, Aidan was going to throttle him if he didn’t stop saying that stupid-ass nickname.

He wasn’t Levi’s bro. It didn’t even matter that Levi called pretty much everyone bro.

Because when he called Aidan bro, it always sounded different.

Flirty and pointed. Like he was trying—and succeeding—to get a rise out of Aidan.

“When are you going to stop calling me that,” Aidan complained. He should head back into the living room, where he could hear the raucous yelling of another round of Mario Kart happening. But instead, he stayed, lingering in this quiet dark hallway, alone with Levi.

“Never,” Levi said, and this smile was slower, more deliberate. Like he knew what calling Aidan that in that particular voice did to him.

Aidan told himself not to flirt back. Failed, immediately. “Is this how it’s gonna be, then?”

The problem was Levi’s irrepressible smile. “God, I kinda hope so. Don’t you?”

Aidan, who had been very sure two months ago what and who he wanted, didn’t know how to answer now. He swallowed hard, painfully aware of how each second ticking by that he didn’t answer made it even more obvious what he did want.

“And,” Levi said, leaning a little closer, but not so close there wasn’t plausible deniability they were still being friendly bros, “you were even nice to Nate.”

“Nate’s a nice guy. Why wouldn’t I be nice to him?”

Levi chuckled. “You were just complaining about him. He hit on you?”

He knew Nate was gay. Just like Wes. Like Levi. Dawson was bi, had dated a guy in college. They were living in a brand-new world, full of acceptance and rainbows.

It wasn’t like Aidan hadn’t accepted himself. He had, or else he’d have had no business telling Mo he was in love with him or kissing Levi in his kitchen.

“No, of course not,” Aidan said. Nobody knew about him, though. Just Mo and Levi, really. Landry and Riley barely counted—they were family. “Did Nate hit on you?”

Over the years Landry had been full of stories about what players Levi and Logan had hooked up with. Carter Maxwell was the most infamous of those stories, because he’d made no secret out of the fact that he’d wished he’d gotten the whole Banks set. But Landry had never been into anyone but Riley.

It was not out of the realm of possibility that during an offseason workout or a Pro Bowl party, Levi had hooked up with Nate Bishop.

It had never occurred to Aidan before. Okay, it had, and he genuinely hadn’t given a shit.

Unlike now, when he wanted to know so badly if Levi demurred, he didn’t know what he was going to do about it. Maybe stomp, pouty and sulking, into the living room, yank the power cord from Nate’s gaming system, and send him on his way.

“Did Bishop hit on me?” Levi laughed, like Aidan’s embarrassing jealousy was actually amusing. “He’s not my type.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Aidan said, taking another step closer.

This was not plausible deniability. This was not keeping his distance. This was definitely not teammate recalibration.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Levi grinned. “Lots of guys hit on me.” He shot Aidan a knowing look that said, without a single word, and you’re one of them, dude.

Embarrassing, only because it was true.

“What about—”

Levi raised a hand and let it drift down to Aidan’s chest. Pressed into his T-shirt. “I’m gonna stop you right there, bro. How about this, I’ve never kissed anyone in this condo, except—”

“Okay, message received,” Aidan said hurriedly. He didn’t need Levi to say it, not when he was trying so hard to pretend that it hadn’t happened.

“Wes is cute, but as I’m sure you know, he’s still torn up about his ex.” Levi shot him a frank look. “I know I told you my stance on that.”

“You did.”