Page 44 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

nineteen

Oli

W hen I wake now, more often than not I feel for a warm weight against me.

For the last few away games we’ve shared the same bed, and I hate to admit that now, when I’m home alone, I reach for him.

It’s like my hands have a mind of their own, searching for him.

Needing him. It doesn’t even faze me now.

No. What shocks me more is how much like home his weight feels against me.

When I wake up alone now I feel out of place and I don’t like it.

I could get used to this. I don’t open my eyes.

I don’t need to. I can feel him pressed against me.

His skin is warm and sweet smelling from the shower we took last night.

He smells like me, but also like him—warm and sweet.

My fingers slide down the chest pressed tight next to me.

More and more I wonder what it would be like to just expect Andre here in my bed every night.

It’s an improbable thought, but it’s nice to think about.

Maybe he would move in with me . . . I’m losing my mind, I think.

I’ve let hatred ravage me all these years, and it’s taken this thing now with Andre for me to realize how much I’ve missed him.

I have. He was my best friend. I always had so much shit to deal with all the time—so much stress and pressure—but with him none of that existed. We were just two guys playing a game.

My hand reaches out, and I smile when it lands on the soft skin of his ass. I touch him, tracing my fingers along the curve of his cheek.

He asked me last night if I believe him.

I want to. When he told me he hadn’t seen the cup that day some of my rage disappeared.

He didn’t see the cup; he didn’t know the labels had been switched.

I believe him, or at least I want to. I really, really want to.

That leaves a bigger issue, though. Who switched them, then?

Or was it somehow an accident or oversight?

I’m not sure, but what I am sure of is that now I have him back, I really don’t want to let him go.

I lie here with my eyes closed. Andre doesn’t stir, and I let myself think back to last night. While I’d wished Andre would open up a bit more, I still got to know him a little better.

I’m curious about his life with Tripp; I feel like there’s something there he’s not telling me.

Tripp showed up to practice and I haven’t seen him since, but I’d watched Andre during that practice.

He’d looked . . . scared. Andre never talks about him, and whenever Tripp is brought up it’s like he folds into himself.

If my father was an NHL legend, I’d probably never shut up about it .

“When I escaped . . .” What had he been about to say?

“I’m trying to sleep,” Andre groans. My palm slides over his cheek, dipping between them. “Stop touching me.”

I grin, leaning in and pressing my face into his hair and breathing him in. “Impossible, zayka .”

“If I find out that means something stupid, I’m going to punch you,” he whispers. I smile. “Go back to sleep, it’s too fucking early,” he groans against me.

I laugh a little; I can’t help it. This man is impossible to wake up. Engulfing him in my arms, I laugh harder as he struggles to get out of them. My fingers slide between his cheeks, tapping his hole. “Let me kiss it better.”

A throat clears.

My eyes snap open and I wrench my head up to see my best friend standing in my bedroom. What the hell! Instinctively I grab my comforter, pulling it around my naked body. Then I look over and cover Andre as he blinks himself awake before he realizes what’s happening.

“Grey—”

“ Christ , Kuli,” is all he says before he turns and walks out of my bedroom, marching downstairs. No. No. No. This isn’t happening.

“Grey?” I can’t look at Andre. What the fuck am I doing? Holy shit, what have I done? Why is he here? Grey has a key, and he knows he’s always welcome to come right in. Why didn’t I think? I’m so stupid.

“Does he have a key?”

“You need to leave. Please.”

“What? Oli, I—”

“You need to get out.” I feel numb. How could we be so fucking stupid? I get out of bed, going to my dresser and grabbing sweats, pulling them on. Finding Andre’s sweats, I toss them in his direction.

“Oli, wait, it’s just Grey. I’m pretty sure he’s—”

“Get dressed and get out.” What am I going to do? “Please.” I just can’t deal with this right now.

Andre glares, getting up as I tug my sweats on. “Are you fucking serious right now? After everything, after last night! You really think Grey of all people will—”

“Please get out!” I snap my mouth shut. Fuck. I can’t think straight. My mind is a mess. I can’t meet his eyes and see the hurt in them; it may break me. I’m panicking and just need him out of here. I need to think. “I’m sorry. I need to deal with this. Alone.”

“You don’t have to deal with this alone, Oli. I’m here. We are—”

“Will you just get the fuck out!” I bite my tongue instantly, ashamed of the outburst. “Please.”

Shaking his head, Andre snatches his clothes off my floor and tugs them on. I can’t watch him. “You know what? Fuck you, Oli. You want to be alone, then be alone!” He shakes his head. I feel like I’m drowning. It’s only when I hear his receding footsteps that I look up.

I’m a coward.

What the hell am I going to do? Yes, Grey is my best friend, but this . . . this is . . . What? I’m not even sure myself. “Fuck.” Scrubbing a hand over my face, I get up, pulling on a shirt and only realizing as I slip it over my head it’s the one Andre wore last night. It smells like him.

God, I’m such an idiot.

Finally knowing I can’t put this off any longer, I march downstairs like a person going to their death. I walk into my kitchen where Grey stands at my island fixing me a shot of clear liquid. My good tequila? It’s only nine in the morning. “Grey, I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Oli. Sit.” He shakes his head, and I think I see him smirk.

Slowly I walk over to the island and sit on a bar stool.

I don’t know what to do. Why am I so afraid?

He grabs his shot, bringing it to his lips, and he shakes his head, then tips it back.

After pouring himself another, he holds mine out toward me.

With shaky fingers, I grab my glass, clinking it to his before we both take a shot. “Grey, I don’t know what I—”

“I’m gay.”

I freeze, um . . . “Wha-what?”

He pours himself another, downing it alone and shaking his head, grimacing a bit from the bite of the alcohol.

“For so long I’ve been afraid to tell you.

Like terrified. I was more afraid to come out to you than to my family.

How fucked up is that? I knew you wouldn’t hate me, but I was so afraid to see disappointment or some stupid shit. I don’t know.”

“What? Why. . . Why would you think I’d care?

” Even if my recently awakened sexuality is new to me, I’ve always supported queer people and players.

I go to pride parades with the hockey team and donate money to organizations that help queer youth.

I love pride nights for fuck’s sake! “How could you think that?”

He shakes his head, taking another shot. “Some people act like they support us, only to disappoint us when it’s time for them to actually be an ally. I was scared.” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

I let it go, but still, I’m a bit hurt. “Does Atlas know?”

“Yeah.”

Well, now I’m fucking pissed. “Why the fuck does he know!?”

“Does he know about Andre?”

My lips purse. “No. No one does.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Months.”

“So what, the fighting was all foreplay?”

“Fuck off.” I take another shot.

He chuckles to himself, taking one more shot before getting up and going to my fridge to grab a water. “How? How did you go from thinking he betrayed you to this? Whatever the fuck this is.”

“I don’t know, shit just happened.”

“When did shit start to happen?” He leans his elbows on my island with the biggest shit-eating grin on his smug face. “I need details, Kuli. I think I’m owed.”

“You’re not owed shit.” I push off the bar stool to grab a water of my own. We have a game tonight, and my mind is a mess. I need to clear it. He waits for me, and I know he won’t let it go. “The game we got ejected from. We hooked up at the hotel. One minute we were fighting, the next we were—”

“Fucking.” He snorts. “Nice.” Who is this man?

“What? No lectures on how this is a horrible fucking decision and it’s going to blow up in my face? Where’s the look of judgment? If there was ever a time for the look it’s now, Grey!”

He straightens, taking a sip of his water. “Look, I don’t know. I think sleeping with a teammate is a shit idea but . . .”

“But what?”

“We’ve been winning a lot of games, Oli. I’m not too mad about it.”

I laugh. “You know Andre thinks it brings us good luck? We hook up, then we win games.” The way I talk freely about him makes me smile. He makes me smile.

And I just hurt him.

“You guys put the drug test thing behind you?”

“I found something out that makes me believe he didn’t do it.”

“What?”

“On the day we were tested, my mother called and I gave my cup to him. He said he’d passed off the cups to the doctor, but the thing is, while he was waiting for me he was drawing little black hearts all over his cup.

When they pulled me into the office, they had his cup with the hearts but with my label.

That’s why I thought it was him, but he said he didn’t know the cups had been switched. ”

“And you believe him?”

I think for a moment, and what I’m afraid to admit is, I’m so happy.

I’ve been happy for a while. It’s not just the sex—although fuck me, ten out of ten—it’s everything else as well.

It’s having my friend back finally. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed him.

“I want to,” I admit. “More than anything.”

“This is so fucked. You know that, right?”

I take a shot. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know how to tell—”

“I mean kicking him out like you just did. I don’t know what either of you are doing, but the look on his face when he left here .

. . I don’t know. Not sure how you feel, but that was a hurt man.

” Grey smirks. “A fine, gorgeous hurt man.” My eyes narrow on him.

“Whoa, calm down, killer. Hands off. I get it.”

I feel like shit. My finger itches to call him. “At The Treasure House, with Monica? You whispered something to her.”

“I told her I was queer.” Grey smiles. “Just trying to live a little bit like myself.” He leans over, his elbows on my island, taking another sip of his water. “That was a good night.”

I smirk. “You hook up?”

His brows wiggle. “Mm, yes I did.”

We sit in the silence of our confessions for a minute. My thoughts go to Andre and I feel terrible. I’m not sure why I panicked. I need to make this right, apologize, beg him to forgive me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Same.”

“I don’t care—or I mean, I don’t like that you thought I would care. We’re family.”

“I know that.” Grey smiles sadly. “Can’t say I’m all that surprised, though. It’s not like you two were subtle.” The mischief in those stormy eyes eases me a little.

“What?”

“The hickeys? Oli, come on. I caught him checking out your naked ass last week too. Then the marks around Andre’s neck he was trying to hide . . . What the fuck was that?”

My face burns. “None of your buisness.”

“You kinky bitch.” He laughs. “Whatever. I clocked this a while ago. That wasn’t hatred between you two, that was passion. ”

“Passionate hatred,” I correct, but he laughs.

“He your first guy?”

I’m not sure what he is. First is a loaded word. Andre’s my first on many counts. “A lot of firsts,” I admit, and Grey nods, standing and taking a swig of his water.

“I came by to ask you why you’ve been so distant lately. I guess I got my answer. I have to stop by Alyssa’s, and I was going to see if you wanted to come with. She’s bringing Lianna to the game tonight.”

“Want me to keep you from killing Landon?” I understand why Grey is so protective of her. After what they went through with their father growing up, I would be too. Still, Grey needs to let her breathe. Landon’s a good guy.

“No, you need to talk to Andre. You need to make that right.”

I want to argue, but he’s right. I shouldn’t have flipped out like that. I don’t know why I panicked. Fear has always gotten the best of me. My body vibrates with it sometimes until it explodes. “Hey,” I say, and Grey turns in the kitchen to look at me. “Please don’t tell Atlas. Not yet.”

Grey nods his head before giving me a reassuring smile. “Of course, but you should tell him. I know he won’t care. Well, he will care, but he’ll care in his way . . . teasing, jokes. You know him.”

I think about our friend and I have to ask. “I know you won’t tell me, and I know it’s Atlas’s business, but can you give me something? Anything.” Grey and Atlas have always had something that draws them together. “You two aren’t like . . .”

“Fuck no, Oli.” Grey swigs the rest of his water.

“He’s too young for one, and he’s like my brother.

I don’t think he’s queer either. As far as his situation goes, the only thing I’ll say is this .

. . The laughter, the jokes, the immaturity, it’s all just him trying to reclaim the child he wasn’t allowed to be. Okay. That’s it.”

I think on that, and although I want to pry I don’t. It’s the problem solver in me. I want to fix things as fast as possible. “Okay. Thank you . . . and sorry.”

Grey claps me on the back. “Welcome to the queer club, Oli.” He kisses the side of my head before letting himself out.

Grey’s words sink in. I have so many things on my mind, but one thing is clear.

I need to talk to Andre.