Page 95 of Ethan

“If you’d gone to college, this would be amateur hour,” Ethan said. “I went to skate plenty of times hungover.” Okay, notthatmany times, but enough times. Charlie was just like one of those celebrities who’d gotten famous young, like he was stunted forever at the age he’d been drafted at. Eighteen and stupid and forever obsessed with everyone’s vision of what kind of player he could be. Honestly, college would’ve done him some good.

“Notthishungover,” Charlie muttered. “Can’t I have my sunglasses back?”

“No. Only assholes wear sunglasses inside.”

“I’m going to tell Avery—gonna tellLivvy—that you’re mean.”

“I bet you will,” Ethan said placidly. He shoved more oatmeal into his mouth and then popped a big strawberry in. He’d onlyhad a few beers last night and had wisely stayed away from the shots.

“I’m gonna tellHank,” Charlie said next, like he was trying to escalate here. And normally, Ethan might give him a little credit for the effort, but the words came out so weak and insincere Ethan knew that Charlie wasn’t going to do it.

Besides, he’d already texted Hank all about the fun experience of dragging a drunk Charlie and Max home in an Uber, and then making sure Max got up to his floor okay. And then making sure Charlie didn’t just follow him.

He wanted them to get their collective heads out of their asses, but not when they were so blackout drunk they had no freaking clue what they were even doing.

Ethan pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his convo with Hank. He hadn’t imagined them. There they were, a whole string of texts, with no reply underneath.

It wasn’t entirely unusual for Hank to sleep in on a day off, but still, it was surprising that it was past eleven, and he had yet to hear from the guy.

Hisguy.

There was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably Max,” Charlie said from his prone position on the counter. “Go answer it and tell him to fuck off. We’re all dead in here.”

“I’m not dead,” Ethan said. “You’rejust dead.”

“Yes, and it’s all his fault,” Charlie whined.

Ethan slid off the barstool and headed towards the door, sure that it probablywasMax, and Max, despite having drunk just as much as Charlie last night, was likely dragging his hungover ass to practice, anyway, because he was the most responsible guy that Ethan knew.

Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, louder and more impatiently this time, and yeah, despite thatMax had never been loud or impatient a day in his life, Ethan was pretty damn sure it had to be him. Probably Charlie had finally told him he was skipping the optional practice, and Max was here to drag him in, anyway.

Well, Max could do that. Ethan wasn’t going to participate but if Max had a death wish, he could do whatever the heck he wanted with his brother.

Ethan opened the door and froze.

It wasn’t Max.

It was Hank.

Hank looking all happy and bashful and a little bit nervous. Like he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of the reception he’d get; maybe only ninety-nine percent sure.

But Hank never needed to worry another day in his life. Not about any way Ethan was ever going to react to him. Not about Ethan’s feelings. And definitelyneverEthan himself.

“Hey—” was all Hank got out before Ethan was wrapping his arms around Hank’s middle and forcibly dragging him across the threshold.

Ethan pushed him against the wall and Hank just went—he was bigger, but he was also not expecting Ethan to do any of this, which was crazy, because Ethan had thought about this probably a million fucking times, and his response the first moment he saw Hank again was always going to be the same.

Leaning in, Ethan gave him a split second to turn away or to change his mind, but Hank only tilted his head down in obvious and complete surrender, and Ethan kissed him.

Gentle and sweet at first. But then deeper and harder, like if Ethan could get his tongue far enough into Hank’s mouth, he might havesomecomprehension of just how much Ethan had fucking missed him.

Hank’s hands buried themselves in Ethan’s hair, pulling him in even tighter to his body, and by the time they broke apart, Ethan was nearly gasping.

“Best third kiss ever,” Ethan panted into the miniscule space between their mouths.

Hank’s lips tilted up in one corner, amused. A little smug. “Yeah? You wanna go for the best fourth kiss ever?”