Page 8 of Bonus Game
“Do you play professionally?”
Jake shrugged. “Riley is on the farm team for the Halifax Citadels. I wasn’t allowed to go any further than Major Junior because my father wouldn’t let me, and also because I kept injuring myself.”
Allen would have loved to have a father who wouldn’t let him play hockey. That would have been the dream.
“So, you play beer league hockey,” said Allen, already piecing the puzzle together. It explained why the two young guys had been hanging out with a group of scruffy old ones.
“You like hockey?” Jake asked, shifting his gaze from the road to give Allen a hopeful look.
No, Allen hated hockey. He hated it so much he could?—
“Yeah, I like hockey,” said Allen.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t know why he was getting Jake’s hopes up when this would be the last conversation they had. It’s not like he had a chance with the sexy, young idiot.
“Come watch me play,” said Jake. “Riley joins us on the weekends.”
No.
“Sure.” Allen smiled, though he thought it probably looked more like a grimace. “If you promise not to come to my workplace and make a mess of my underwear.”
The car swerved, and Allen let out a startled cry, and his hands flew for the holy shit handle. He was so distracted by thoughts of dying that he didn’t process the words he had said until Jake regained control of the car.
Why had he worded it like that?!
One glance at Jake’s face told him the man was the colour of a goddamn tomato, and the muffled breaths from the back hinted at Riley having a fucking breakdown too.
This is why Allen didn’t socialize. He wanted to slam his head against the window until he knocked some sense into his dumb brain.
Fortunately for everyone involved, they arrived at Allen’s destination five minutes later, which meant he could run away and forget this ever happened.
“Thank you for the drive,” Allen squeaked, hands fumbling for the handle to open the door. “I would love to stay and chat, but I have…things. So many things.”
Then the door was open, and Allen was out of the car and free. He didn’t turn around to say goodbye, choosing instead to run to his apartment like a coward—which he was.
The sound of a car door opening and closing behind him sent a thrill of cold fear through his body, and he turned to see Jake walking toward him. He wasn’t wearing a winter jacket, just a grey hoodie with a logo on it that Allen didn’t recognize.
He stared Allen down as he approached, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have said he was definitely about to get murdered.
Allen walked backward toward the lobby doors, too scared to take his eyes off the tall and imposing man following him. He felt like he was a rabbit in the woods being chased by a hungry wolf, because Jake’s expression was intense enough to set his pulse racing.
Allen’s back hit the lobby door, but Jake didn’t stop until he was standing in front of him, making him have to crane his neck upward to meet his gaze.
“Wh-What do you want?” Allen asked, cringing at how breathless and scared he sounded.
Jake removed his hand from his pocket, bringing his phone along with it. “Number,” said Jake. “You said you would come to my game.”
He had said that, hadn’t he?
There was no way to escape, not with Jake practically pinning him to the door, so Allen relented and took the phone. He jammed his number into a contact as quickly as he could, wanting to remove himself from the situation as soon as possible.
He was scowling when he thrust the phone into Jake’s chest, snapping his hand back before Jake had a chance to touch him.
“You’re really into guys?” Allen asked, cursing himself for saying it as soon as he opened his mouth.
Jake gave another of his nonchalant shrugs. “I’m into you.”
There was a stuttering in his frantic heartbeat, and for once, Allen had no snarky comeback.
