Page 15

15

Caleb

O n the drive back to campus, Nick asks me a ton of questions. At first, he hesitates a lot, thinking too long about what he wants to know. As with almost everything about him, I notice his reluctance and don’t call it out. I simply respond with as much detail as I can.

Soon enough, he’s leaning forward in his seat and beaming at me, listening to every word I’m saying. Nick’s expression lights up in a way that blinds me, and it takes all my willpower to keep my eyes on the road.

It’s obvious he’s interested in playing hockey beyond college.

Which begs the question… why the fuck doesn’t he want to do pro hockey? I don’t understand why he’d give it up to work at some corporate job, but I stop myself from asking because it’d probably ruin whatever nice thing’s happening between us now. When I tell him the names of the players I met at the camp, he actually groans and buries his face in his hands, saying he’s envious.

“You want to see the plan the development coach sent me?” I cock my head towards my phone, which is resting between us.

“Yes!”

After I tell him how to unlock my phone and find the document pinned on my screen, Nick’s dopey grin gets even bigger. He beams as he scrolls through the pages, which outlines what McAvoy—Buffalo’s development coach—wants me to work on.

“No wonder you sometimes stay behind to do extra drills,” Nick says, grinning. “I can stay back and help you if you want to.”

“Sure.”

“This is really, really cool.” The enthusiasm in his voice is palpable. “Shit. This plan’s incredibly detailed and tailored for you. I’d kill to have one of these.”

He could have that experience too, but I continue to shut my mouth about that. Nick asks me more questions, and I gamely answer him. It’s not until I’m parking near our dorm that he stops mid-sentence.

Nick flushes. “Sorry. I’m asking way too much.”

“I don’t mind.”

He beams again, and my hand falters from where I’m turning off the ignition.

“Let’s go, dork,” I say before getting out of the car, and he protests at the nickname but follows me out, anyway. He looks as if he wants to ask even more things, but as soon as we enter our building, a guy calls him over.

Of course, people are going to stop Mr. Popular, as per usual. Sighing, I wait until they’re done, and he apologizes before we finally head up.

“By the way,” he says, once the elevator doors open to our hallway. “ Why didn’t you just study here from the start?”

“Because your team hasn’t made it to the championships in years.”

“Ouch. Also, you mean our team. And we almost made it last year.”

“Yeah, and only because my uncle started coaching here. Besides, almost doesn’t cut it.”

“We’ll just have to make it this year, then.”

I huff a laugh as I unlock our door. “So confident. What makes this year any different from last?”

Nick meets my gaze. “You.”

My eyes narrow. He’d better not say shit like that, or I’ll do something stupid—like kiss him.

“Weird way to propose, but okay,” I joke, and he wheezes in surprise.

I open the door and switch on the lights, ready to change and sink into my bed, when—

“What the fuck?” I growl.

“What?”

“Where the fuck’s my mattress?”

“Your… mattress?”

Scowling, I grab him by his loose tie and yank him inside. Nick grunts and almost falls forward, catching himself before he stumbles at me. I gesture towards my mattress—or lack thereof. My bed frame’s empty save for my pillows and blanket.

“Oh no,” Nick says softly. “They didn’t…”

I round on Nick, and he steps away until his back’s flat on the wall. “Where’s my bed, Nick!?”

His expression twists and he hesitates. “Um. Rhys and Schultz… they. Uh.”

“Use your words.”

Nick’s shoulders slacken and he rubs a hand over his face. “They’re getting back at you for the pranks you’ve been playing on me.”

“You knew they were going to do this and didn’t stop them?”

“I got distracted,” he mumbles.

“Give me your phone.”

Nick doesn’t even hesitate. He takes his phone out and unlocks it, giving it to me with a slight frown. The only notification is from a group chat he shares with the culprits who stole my bed, and when I click on it, there’s a photo of Rhys and Schultz posing with my mattress. The background is a dorm room similar to ours, which means they’ve hidden it somewhere in the building.

I hit the button to start a video call and they answer within seconds.

Schultz says, “Hiii, Sandov—oh. Hey, Jennings, so nice to see you.”

“Give me my bed back.”

“Can’t,” Rhys says. “Need to sleep.”

I stare in disbelief. Nick’s trying not to laugh, and I’m sorely tempted to kick him.

“Where’s my bed!?” I yell.

“Relax, dude,” Schultz says. “It’s in one of the empty rooms. I won’t tell you which one and where to get the key, though. You need to apologize to Nick first.”

“I’m not apologizing to him.”

“Guess you’ll be sleeping on a hard surface tonight, then,” Rhys says, grinning.

I can feel the vein on my forehead, ready to pop. Gritting my teeth, I shove the phone at Nick’s chest. “I’m going to get ready for bed, and that bed better be back here when I’m done, or I’m kicking all your asses.”

Nick only smiles when I give him the most intimidating glare I can muster. Clearly, I’m losing my touch—the guy’s not even shaken by my efforts anymore, so I smack him lightly on the head. Annoyingly, that only earns me another laugh, and I roll my eyes and stomp over to my closet.

Nick walks over to his side of the room and says, “Come on, guys, give him his mattress back.”

I duck into the bathroom to get ready for bed and can hear Rhys and Schultz arguing with Nick. Nick’s asking them where the key is and telling them he’ll get it himself, but they won’t budge at all. Assholes.

After I’ve done my bedtime routine and changed into a shirt and sweats, I step back out and, unsurprisingly, my mattress still isn’t there. I glower at Nick, who only smiles sheepishly at me from where he’s sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Take my bed,” he tells me. “I’ll go sleep at Rhys’s.”

“What, he doesn’t have a roommate?”

“He does, but I crash with them sometimes.”

I blink. “Like… beside him?”

Nick’s typing into his phone and absently nods, and something ugly twists in my gut. I think this annoyance may be… jealousy? Gritting my teeth, I circle around Nick and collapse on his bed. My knee hits his back, and he chuckles, glancing down at me.

“I’ll go get changed and head to Rhys’s then. Might as well punish him with my annoying body heat and all my tossing and turning, since he did this even if I asked him not to.”

He does toss and turn a lot—I hear him at night, moving around as if he’s running a marathon in his sleep. “Whatever. Do what you want, but I’m sleeping here.”

“Got it.” Nick stands up and pulls his tie off.

While he’s in the bathroom, I send the longest, most unhinged text messages to both Rhys and Schultz. When I’m satisfied, I grab Nick’s blanket and throw it over me, turning to my side and resting my cheek against his pillow.

And, wow, okay. I sorely miscalculated this. The scent of his shampoo floods me and I’m pretty sure my brain almost malfunctions. It smells so good—masculine and intoxicating, and it possesses me to turn my head slightly into his pillow.

I’m debating whether to send more messages to Rhys and Schultz when Nick returns and gives me a look, and I pretend he didn’t catch me sniffing his pillow.

“See you in the morning,” he says, switching the lights off for me, and I watch his silhouette reach for the door.

“We could share your bed,” I blurt out before my brain’s able to fully reboot.

He’s quiet for a long while, then he clears his throat. “Really…?”

“Sure?” Not sure if I’m imagining it, but I think he sounds thrilled? Like when I ask him if he wants to play Mario Party? Holy shit, I’m becoming delusional.

“I move around a lot.”

“I know.”

“And I’m a human furnace,” he adds.

I know that too, because when I helped him out of his clothes, his skin burned under my fingers. “I don’t mind, Nicky. But if you’d rather not sleep next to a gay guy, I get it.”

He huffs. “That’s not it at all.”

Nick walks over to me, and I feel as if a ball’s lodged in my throat. Ironically, I didn’t actually expect him to agree about this. I scoot over to the wall, giving him space, and Nick pauses. He stands there for a few seconds, only staring at me, and I almost think he’s going to take it all back when he lets out a breath and gets into bed beside me.

The both of us get as comfortable as we can while also trying not to let any inch of our skin touch. My shoulder’s wedged up against the hard wall and I’m stiffer than I’ve ever been in my life, and I think Nick’s trying not to move, either.

This is the most awkward night of my entire existence. Who the hell thought this was a good idea?

Oh. Right.

Me.

“You sure you’re fine with this?” he croaks.

“Yeah, dude. If you and Morgan can share a bed just fine, then so can we. We’re friends, right?”

Despite how dim the room is, I see the wide smile he gives me. He laughs and says, “You admitted we’re friends!”

“Don’t get too excited,” I grumble.

Nick snickers, and I say nothing else because I’m distracted by the warmth radiating off him. Honestly, I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight. Every fiber of my being is hyperaware of how close he is.

“We’re friends,” he repeats, still sounding way too happy about it.

“Okay. We’re friends. Don’t you remember how you already asked me to be your friend the other day?”

“I asked…?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything from when you came back here drunk off your ass?”

Do you remember kissing me?

After a pause, he says, “Vaguely. I don’t drink a lot, and, um… I remember that night, but not clearly. I think I apologized?”

“Uh-huh.” I guess he doesn’t remember the kiss, then.

“And I asked to be your friend?”

“Yes.”

“And you said… yes?”

“I don’t know, Nick, we’re sharing a bed right now. What do you think?”

Nick laughs, and we’re so close that I feel his breath on my cheek. His breath smells like toothpaste and my hands itch to reach out to brush his hair away from his eyes. His gaze meets mine, and when he smiles, I can’t help but stare at his lips.

I only hope it’s too dark for him to notice—except that I can see his face clearly enough, so I’m sure he can see mine.

As if mimicking me, his gaze also falls to my mouth, and my heart jumps. He snaps his eyes back to mine immediately, and I can’t even tell which is more torturous—him staring at my mouth or holding my stare.

What the hell is this guy doing to my thoughts? I’ve never been so fucking conflicted with anyone else before.

“Um,” he murmurs. “That guy from before…? The one you were with in our room?”

“Dex?”

“Dex. Is he all right with this?”

“We’re not a thing and I haven’t even talked to him since. Besides, nothing’s happening.”

Nick nods, and I feel the ends of his hair against my forehead. Not sure if it’s just my imagination, but I think I’m slowly inching closer to him—or maybe he’s the one doing it.

“You do that a lot? Hookup?” he asks.

“Not recently. Haven’t been with anyone since I transferred here. I think my dick’s about to fall off.”

His eyes widen and he wheezes.

“And you?” I ask. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not since Jessie.”

“Not even anything casual?”

“No. Not really my scene. I have to be really into someone before we… you know…”

I grin wickedly. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ, Caleb.”

“We’re adults, Nicky. We can call it what it is.”

Nick gives a long sigh, though I can see the amusement in his face. “Fine. I have to be really into someone before we… fuck.”

“And you haven’t met anyone since Jessie?” I’m whispering, and I’m not sure why. This whole thing seems strangely intimate, with us in a bed that’s way too small for two tall athletes like us, and the room’s so quiet that I can hear every move and breath he makes.

Nick doesn’t answer my question, and he looks away and shrugs, though there’s something in his smile that I can’t read. He shifts as if he’s trying to get more comfortable, and I’m pretty sure that if he accidentally moved backward even by only a bit, he’d fall off the bed—so I press my back against the wall as much as I can and put a hand on his arm, pulling him towards the middle of the bed.

He doesn’t complain when I don’t take my hand off him. His knee’s resting against mine now, and it’s ridiculous how I want more. I feel as if I’m teetering on the line and ready to burst, wanting to reach out to do something about the tension that’s probably all in my head.

I remind myself he’s straight and uninterested.

Though… a part of me has convinced myself that he’s not actually as straight as he says, especially with how he looks at me, and with how he kissed me when he was drunk—but that’s ridiculous. And even if he were into guys, he’s this perfect golden boy who can have anyone on campus. Why would he want someone as messed up as me?

Nick’s eyes flicker to my lips again, and he lets out a soft exhale, and I can’t take it.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Nicky,” I say.

“Like how?”

Like you’d kiss me again if I asked.

“Nothing.” I grunt, turning around so my back’s facing him. “Good night.”

“I thought you hated that word,” he mumbles with a chuckle, and I pretend I don’t hear him, shutting my eyes tight and hoping I get some fucking sleep even when I’m next to the human equivalent of fire.

***

I’m going to punch him.

That’s what I keep telling myself throughout the night, because Nick was not kidding when he said he tosses and turns in his sleep. A lot. That I knew this and still thought this was a good idea is beyond me.

He kicks and punches too, and when he smacks a hand across my face at two a.m., I stare at the ceiling and question all my life choices.

Sometime through the night, he finally settles—or maybe I turn immune to the physical beating—and I get some shut-eye.

Only to be woken up at what I swear is not ten minutes later to his alarm. He blindly smacks around his desk to turn it off, and then, silence. Glancing at the window, I see that the sun’s rising. Light comes through the cracks in the curtains.

I might as well get up and plan my revenge on Rhys and Schultz.

But then Nick drapes an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him, my back to his front, and my brain short-circuits. He grumbles something under his breath and buries his face against my hair, his breath coming warm against my nape, and all the muscles in my body refuse to move from the shock.

Jesus Christ. Does he think I’m someone else?

I close my eyes to calm myself down, my heart hammering in my chest. And when I think I’ve gotten it under control, a warm hand slips under the bottom of my shirt and lays flat against my stomach.

That’s when my brain finally catches up.

Grunting, I grab his arm and pry it off me. “Let go, Nick.”

“Five more minutes.” His arm wraps around me again and he says in a raspy voice, “Please, Caleb.”

What the actual fuck?

Hearing him say those words in that way immediately gets me worked up, because it sounds like he’s begging me for something else entirely. It brings up a vivid image of him holding me close, sweaty and naked, pleading—

I curse under my breath and try prying him off again, only to freeze when something unmistakably hard presses against my backside.

All my sanity gets thrown out the window.

Nick’s dick is hard.

And he’s pressing it against the small of my back. And with that realization, my cock begins to thicken.

Oh, dear god, all sorts of lines are getting crossed right now, and even I’m not unhinged enough to let this fly.

“Nick!” I yell, struggling out of his hold and sitting up, and he finally stirs to consciousness.

He blinks slowly at me, then he freezes, and his face goes multiple shades of red. His jaw drops open, and I stare back at him—so fucking unsure where to go from here. Nick bends a knee and angles away from me, clearly trying to hide his boner.

Do we talk about his morning wood? Do we talk about how I’m clearly trying to hide mine as well? What the actual fuck?

I clear my throat. “Let me through. I wanna get up.”

Nick nods, sitting up with a groan, and I practically jump off the fucking bed.