Page 14 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

“You sure you guys don’t mind me being over here so much?” Rafe asked a week later as he shoveled in a chicken and brown rice burrito bowl after an especially grueling Pilates workout and practice.

They were in Mickey and Tanner’s living room, and Rafe had gotten in the habit of coming over almost every day. It was kinda great, honestly. But he didn’t want to wear out his welcome.

“You’re all good,” Tanner said, his mouth full of nachos.

Rafe glanced over at Mickey who was staring down at his cilantro-lime chicken salad like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Mouse?” he asked softly, wondering if maybe Mickey was annoyed by it.

Maybe Rafe had worn out his welcome. Sometimes, if they were up late gaming or watching movies or whatever, he crashed in the guest room and rode with them to practice the next morning.

He’d even tagged along when Mickey went grocery shopping the other day.

It was a lot of togetherness, especially since they were D-partners. But Mickey only looked up and smiled at Rafe. “No, it’s fine.”

After lunch, they argued about if they should watch a movie or do some gaming while Mickey and Rafe cleaned up.

“Dude, I got TMNT: Shredder’s Revenge,” Tanner called out from the couch. “We should play.”

Mickey frowned. “TMNT?”

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Rafe explained. “Did you have them in Germany?”

Mickey nodded. “Yes. And Tanner made me watch the movie.”

Rafe frowned too. “There’s a bunch of them. The old, old one? Or the new old ones or …”

Mickey shrugged.

“The one from a couple of years ago,” Tanner explained. “ Mutant Mayhem .”

“Cool.”

Tanner cackled. “Dude, your name is Rafael, right? Were you named after a turtle?”

“No. My grandma is Italian, you dumbass,” Rafe said with a laugh.

“Oh.” Tanner looked crushed. “Because that would’ve been cool.”

“Cooler than being named after one of the greatest Renaissance painters and architects the world has ever seen?” Mickey asked.

“I dunno that I was named after him either,” Rafe said doubtfully. “I think my mom liked the name.”

“Boring,” Tanner shot back.

Rafe rolled his eyes. What was he supposed to do about that?

“Supposedly, Rafael the artist was either gay or bi or pan or whatever they called themselves back in that time. Not straight, anyway,” Mickey said. “And he died from too much sex.”

“You can’t die from too much sex,” Tanner scoffed.

“Well, you’re acting like you’re trying to find out. You and that guy were loud last night,” Mickey shot back.

Rafe groaned. “Seriously. It took me forever to fall asleep.”

The back of Rafe’s neck went hot as he remembered lying in bed, hearing the moans coming from down the hall. Just because he was demisexual didn’t mean he didn’t get horny. What sucked was being single and not being able to do anything about it except jerk off.

Hookups left him cold, and it took a long time for him to feel heat build with another person. He needed to know them, feel their connection.

It was why it had been so easy at first with Logan. They’d been friends and teammates, so when Rafe had realized it was shifting, turning from that to something more, he’d welcomed it. Logan had been kinda worried about if it would be bad for the team.

Rafe had said okay and that he understood, but one night, about a week later, it had been the two of them, alone in Logan’s apartment, putting away leftovers from dinner and laughing about something.

Logan had gone from laughing to cupping Rafe’s cheek and leaning in, his breath warm against Rafe’s lips as he whispered, “Is this okay? I think I changed my mind.”

And it had been so okay.

So good for most of last season and part of this one. Rafe had never been happier than when he was playing hockey and dating Logan. Sex with someone he loved, someone he trusted, had been the best thing ever, and then Logan had ruined it all by, like … arguing with him.

And then taking that argument to mean they were broken up. A flash of anger went through Rafe all over again.

“Hey! Earth to Moon!” Tanner said and Rafe blinked at him.

“Me?”

“Well, that’s your last name, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rafe said.

Tanner made a face. “Ugh, we need a better nickname for you than that .”

“It’s not even a nickname,” Mickey pointed out. “It’s his last name.”

“True.” Tanner waved his Switch in their direction. “But c’mon. Stop cleaning and get your slow asses over here. We’ve got a game to play.”

“It would have gone faster if you’d helped.” Mickey shot him a look but he finished tying off the trash bag anyway.

“Whatever. Move it. You’re both moving at like turtle speed. And I don’t mean these guys.”

He waved at the screen where four mutant turtles were frozen in position.

“Ohhh,” he said, bouncing to his feet. “Oh fuck, I found your nickname, Rafe!”

“Oh God,” Mickey said faintly as Rafe shot Tanner a wary glance.

“What’s that?”

“ Turtle . Like Rafael, turtle power … it’s fucking genius.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mickey said drily.

“No, c’mon,” Tanner said, staring wide-eyed at them as they came closer. “It’s perfect.”

“I don’t hate it,” Rafe said slowly though secretly, he kinda loved it. It made him feel like these were his boys. His team. Like he belonged here.

“See? Perfect! Now, c’mon. Who do you want to play, Mouse?” He cackled again, nearly falling over in his glee. “Mouse and Turtle! I fuckin’ love it.”

Mickey sighed. “I don’t know why I live with you.”

“Because I’m awesome and come up with the best names.”

“I think it’s more like I was afraid you’d die without adult supervision,” Mickey said drily. He glanced over at Rafe with a smile, like they were sharing an inside joke. “Be back in a sec.”

He grabbed the trash bag and Rafe stepped forward. “Want some help?”

“Uhh, sure?” Mickey said.

Rafe took the bag from him and followed him down the hall. Mickey ducked into the bathroom by the entrance and grabbed another bag. Tanner didn’t empty that one either.

“C’mon,” Mickey said. “Trash room is this way.”

They walked down the hall and Mickey smiled at Rafe. “You know, I tried setting the garbage by the front door and reminding Tanner to take it out. But that didn’t stop him from walking around it and conveniently “forgetting” to toss it down the chute.”

Rafe laughed. “Yeah, he’s not very good at home stuff, is he?”

“Not so much.” Mickey nodded. “In here.”

Rafe pulled open the door and gestured for Mickey to go ahead.

“Honestly though,” Mickey said as he tossed the smaller bag down a chute. “Tanner is a good guy.”

“He seems like it.” Rafe tossed his trash down too.

“You don’t mind the nickname?” Mickey asked.

“Nah. I’ve had worse.”

He’d rather be called Turtle and chirped for being a slow skater—which compared to some of the guys in the league he really was—than Moon Pie.

Fuck you, Logan, he thought.

“Good. Did you know Mickey is actually my nickname?”

“Oh, no,” Rafe said. “I didn’t. What’s your real name?”

“Michael.”

“Michael Krause,” Rafe tried out. “Huh.”

“Not even close, bud,” Mickey teased. “Mee-kha-el Krow-za.”

“Oh.” Rafe blinked at him. He tried it again and from Mickey’s tiny wince, he didn’t do much better.

“I’ll keep trying,” he promised.

Mickey smiled at him, patting his arm. “It’s okay. Just call me Mickey. Or Mouse. Or whatever.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

But Rafe swore to himself that he’d look it up online and practice. He wasn’t great with languages. Didn’t really have the ear for it. But he’d try.

Mickey had done so many nice things for him. He could at least try to get his name right.