Page 26 of The Call-Up
Where is this even coming from? Why am I feeling so drawn to my new teammate? The worst bit is that if this was purely about sex, I could brush it off. But it’s not. And try as I might to control my fantasies, I can’t.
Sex does sound appealing, of course, but it’s not even what I’m craving most. It’s companionship. I’m tired of being alone, but I have no idea how to ask for anything else. The fact that I can’t pinpoint when and how these feelings started, the fact that they seem to be slowly increasing in me the more he’s around, has me worried this is all just because he reminds me of the first time I ever felt safe anywhere. Which makes it even worse that I ran from them and that feeling as fast as I could and never kept in touch.
Sighing, I get up from my bed and head towards the kitchen to grab my keys off the counter. I know there’s no food in the house. So I may as well use that as an excuse to walk over to Mickey’s. At the very least, Nicole will be there and she’s always good atmaintaining conversation with me in between slinging beers for customers.
When I arrive at Mickey’s ten minutes later, the place is quiet. There’s only a handful of people occupying tables and Nicole is leaning against the bar, looking up at one of the many TVs and watching the Buffalo Blizzards vs Seattle Squatch game. The Blizzards are up four to zero with five minutes left in the game.
She turns around once I’ve taken a seat behind her. “What’s up, babe?” she says as she leans over the bar to give me a kiss on the cheek. “The usual?”
“Please,” I say, then we both turn our attention to the game.
When it ends a few minutes later, Nicole turns back around to focus on me. “Where’s cutie tonight?”
I cock my head to the side. “Who?”
“The new kid. The rookie.”
“Brandon,” I supply for her. A small amount of warmth flares in my chest. “He’s at Cap’s house.”
“That’s a shame.” She shrugs.
I level her with a look and take a sip of my beer. “You seem a little extra invested in our new rookie. You have a crush on him or something?”
“Nope,” she says, popping the p, and leveling me with her own look. “But I think you might.”
I shake my head. “What on earth would give you that idea?”
“You two just seem… comfortable around each other.”
“You’ve seen me around him all of one time. Excuse me if I don’t think you’re an expert.”
“One time or not, you seemed awfully close for two people who had only known each other for what, two days at that point?”
“More like eight years,” I say, unable to stop the sigh that comes out along with it.
Her eyebrows shoot up and her eyes go wide. “Eight years? So, you’ve known him since you were sixteen?”
I take a sip of my beer and nod.
“Did you two used to date or something?”
“Definitely not,” I laugh.
“But you are close?”
“I don’t know if I’d say ‘close.’”
“Well, you’re something. You had your arms around each other practically the entire time you were here.”
“We’re hockey players.” I shrug. “That’s what we do.”
She stares directly at me again, her expression conveying she thinks I’m full of shit. “I’ve seen you with other players. How you were with Brandon was different.”
“No it wasn’t,” I deny, wondering why this matters so much to me.
“Yes, it was,” she says. “Very different. I don’t know why you’re trying to deny it. You’re obviously into him and from what I could tell, he’s clearly into you. The poor guy practically had heart eyes.”
Excitement bubbles in my chest for a brief moment at the possibility, but she’s wrong. I know Brandon’s expressions. “He does not have heart eyes. That’s just the way he’s always looked.” It’s true. One of the first things I ever noticed about Brandon was the look of awe he always had on his face. And why wouldn’t he look that way? He grew up in a house where he was constantly surrounded by the next great hockey player. Everything about his existence was awe inspiring. If you’re into hockey.
