Page 11 of Bonus Game
“I’m not sure if I can go in there like this.”
Allen’s ego was soaring. It didn’t matter if Jake was easy to rile up because of his damn age; he would take the hard-on as a compliment.
“Need me to help you?—”
“No!” Jake jumped up, eyes wide with panic. “You go in. Sit behind my bench. I want you close.”
It wasn’t the most articulate sentence, but it still made Allen’s pulse race.
He figured he would be nice and give the poor guy a break, so Allen saluted him and got out of the car.
It wasfreezingout. Allen jogged to the doors and entered behind a group of rowdy teens who were talking about gettingsnacks while roughhousing. The girls in the group exchanged exasperated looks, and Allen felt a wave of sympathy for them.
Teenage boys were annoying.
A large group of people were gathered near one of the food stands, and Allen chose to avoid it in favour of finding his seat, but a voice shouting his name made him stop.
“Ally! Wait!”
Ally? Really?
Allen watched as the tall, blond and gorgeous puckhead trotted over to him, sweaty from his warm-up and half-dressed in gear. Riley had a nice smile that included all of his teeth, and his green eyes were bright with mischief as he came to a stop.
“Why are you here alone? Didn’t Mouse walk you in?”
Allen hadn’t spotted Riley through the mass of fans he had been signing autographs for; otherwise, he would have tried harder to blend in and stay out of sight.
“Are you that big of a deal?” Allen asked, unsure of how to word his question without it sounding rude. He gestured to the people still eagerly looking to catch his attention.
Riley took no offence. His mouth was already sliding into an unserious smile as he waggled his eyebrows at Allen. “Why? Are you worried you picked the wrong friend to date?”
“We’re not dating,” said Allen. “Jake is still in his car, probably playing with his lumber.”
He wasn’t sure if Riley would catch on to the meaning behind his words, but there was only a second of confusion that manifested in a blink, and then Riley was somehow smiling brighter.
“Oh, you fucking minx. He’s going to be in no shape to play tonight.”
Allen couldn’t say he’d ever been called a minx by a straight guy before, but it made him chuckle.
“I’ll walk you to your seat,” Riley offered before Allen could try to walk away. “I know where it is.”
Allen tried to keep his expression neutral. “Why? Does he keep the seat booked in case he wants to show off to a potential hookup?”
Riley’s smile faltered, but he revived it before Allen had a chance to worry. He touched his hand to the small of Allen’s back to lead him forward, waving at the nearby fans.
“Jake isn’t like that,” said Riley. “He’s not into hookup culture. He wants a cute wife, a house, and maybe a dog—not meaningless flings.”
Allen wasn’t a cute wife, not even close. He was a dork and a part-time seductress when he wanted to be, but he wasn’t the marriage type.
“Keep the gender out of that word,” Riley continued, cutting Allen off before he could complain. “Mouse wants someone to come home to, it doesn’t matter what you have going on in your pants.”
Okay, fair. But Allen refused to believe he was that person.
“What if I have a tentacle?” Allen asked.
Riley sharply sucked in a gasp, choked on it, and then began coughing.
“Oh fuck—he’s going to have so much fun with you.” Riley clapped Allen on the back, nearly knocking him onto the long bench that sat behind the players’ section. “Please be his boyfriend. I’ll pay you for the entertainment value alone.”
