Page 52 of Cheap Shot

“You can’t lock up,” Sebastian admitted. Maybe he’d been a little unnecessarily harsh before. “It’s a dead bolt. I’m not giving you a key to my shop and it can only be locked from the inside without one.”

“Got it.”

Crawford had come in the front entrance earlier—a moving truck for one of his neighbors had been blocking the back—so when they reached the door, Sebastian reached around him and flipped the lock open. The space was dark except for the light from the street filtering in through the front windows and the hallway light spilling in from the back of the shop.

“So,” Crawford said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, the leather creaking.

“So.” Sebastian looked at him. His eyes were beginning to adjust, and he could see Crawford’s brows drawn together.

“We’ll, uh, do this again?”

“That’s the plan,” Sebastian glanced away, unsure of why his heart was hammering like he’d sprinted up the stairs instead of walked down them.

“Hey.” Crawford caught him by the chin, his grip firm on Sebastian’s jaw. “C’mere.”

And then they were kissing.

Sebastian’s mind blanked out for a moment, shock and sudden need hitting him square in the chest at once and leaving him winded. He parted his lips in surprise and Crawford’s tongue was in his mouth, tasting of spicy-sweet Dan Dan noodles, and hunger.

Sebastian hadn’t thought about what kissing Crawford would be like until the other day. Since then, his brain had shied away from imagining it, as if even thinking about it too closely would make it feel uncomfortably real.

Now that it was happening, Sebastian could feel the soft tickling brush of Crawford’s facial hair and taste the urgency on his tongue, despite the orgasms they’d just had. The solid bulk of his body, the heat of his skin.

It was too much.

“What the fuck was that for?” Sebastian drew back, breathless, his lips tingling.

“I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Crawford didn’t meet his gaze. “Don’t read anything into it, man.”

“I won’t,” Sebastian said.

Crawford was gone without another word and Sebastian closed the door behind him. He pressed his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes, thinking about their earlier conversation.

Had talking about Sebastian growing up playing hockey changed something between them? Had it made Crawford look at him differently? Did he want it to?

A sudden wave of grief washed through Sebastian.

It had been a long time since he’d thought about his hockey playing days and how it had felt to finally admit to himself—and to his best friend—that he wanted to quit.

But here, in his quiet shop, it all came rushing back.

“Hey, Nicky.” Sebastian’s voice came out rougher than he’d intended. He cleared his throat and rolled onto his side.

They’d been lying on Nicky’s bed doing their geometry homework and he lifted his head, frowning at Sebastian. “What’s up?”

“I … I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?”

“You’re gonna be mad at me.”

“What? No.” Nicky shoved his books away and crawled on his elbows until their legs were pressed together, his body warm through the fabric of his sweats. “I won’t.”

“That’s what you say now.” Sebastian looked away.

“Hey, look at me.” Nicky draped himself over Sebastian and rested his chin on Sebastian’s chest. It dug in, a little uncomfortable and oddly grounding.

Automatically, Sebastian’s hands went to Nicky’s hair, combing through it as he looked into Nicky’s eyes.