Fraser chuckled, and the sound made something stutter in Harrison’s chest. Gods, he was pretty. Annoyingly pretty. It was hard to look at Fraser’s face on the TV all the time, but seeing him up close? All those blond curls, that bright smile, those golden eyes and tanned skin. Hell, even the cute dimples he had on his smooth cheeks.
No, not going there. But it felt like torture as he watched Arlo and Fraser talk, Fraser’s eyes darting to look at him, blinking at him through his long lashes like they were sharing a joke before he focused back on his cousin.
It made him want to hit things.
“Why are you here?” Harrison asked, cutting off their chatter. He couldn’t fathom what Fraser wanted so badly that he would follow someone to their home. It had to be important, and if it wasn’t, hands were about to be thrown. “If you’re pissed about me leaving you at the gas station, tough luck. You were the idiot who got in my car without asking.”
Fraser walked past Arlo, who was still standing there holding the stick like a moron. “I’m not pissed about that. We didn’t get a chance to talk, and I was scared I did something to upset you.”
“We didn’t get a chance to talk because I didn’t fucking want to talk,” Harrison said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was trying to look intimidating so Fraser would take the hint and not come any closer, but the guy was like a puppy gaping at him with his big, sad eyes.
Fraser, ignoring the intimidation tactics, walked up the steps and stopped beside him. The height difference was enough for Harrison to feel he had the advantage, but Fraser’s constant smile threw him off.
“I know…you’re probably not interested in talking with me,” said Fraser.
Harrison barked a harsh laugh. “What gave you that impression?”
Fraser’s answering laugh was nervous, and he brushed his hand nervously through his hair, distracting Harrison with his stupid curls.
“I’m an asshole, and I’m really sorry. It’s just—” Fraser stuttered and stopped. His eyes trailed over Harrison, hesitating before he found the courage to speak again. “I’ve looked up to you since I was a kid. It sounds corny and stupid, but I’ve always wanted to meet you and thank you for…I don’t know, you just inspired me. It didn’t feel right for us to run into each other, and for me to not say thank you.”
The sound of Arlo’s car roaring to life paused the conversation. They watched the vehicle awkwardly back up and swing around, racing down the road.
Harrison shook his head, watching Arlo run away like a chicken. It was probably for the best because Harrison was still on the fence about finding that shotgun.
When everything went quiet again, Harrison turned back to Fraser, who was giving him a hopeful smile. Telling him to fuck off would be like kicking a puppy. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to use threats to make him leave, even though he desperately wanted him to.
“Look, Fraser,” said Harrison. “It’s great that you feel that way, but get the fuck off my property.”
Fraser’s smile slowly wilted, and he blinked, looking hurt.
“There are signs up for a reason. I don’t want strangers visiting and bothering me. This is private fucking property. Do you know how to read?”
“I do,” said Fraser. He was curling in on himself, like someone who had just been found guilty of stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “But we have shared experiences. I thought it might be an easy reason to be friends, if you were looking for any.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” said Harrison gruffly. “I don’t know you, and I don’t play hockey anymore. The best you’re getting from me is a polite nod if we run into each other, but I’m not interested in getting to know you past hello, and I’m especially not interested in being your friend.”
Harrison waited for Fraser’s expression to crumple, or for him to tell him to go fuck himself and leave. But when Fraser smiled softly, showing off those distracting dimples, he was left stunned. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and there was a moment of vulnerability there that left Harrisonfeeling like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to, but then it was covered up by Fraser’s signature goofy grin, and the moment was gone.
“Wow, I heard the rumours that you were a sourpuss, but they weren’t wrong.” Fraser laughed awkwardly as he jogged down the steps and returned to his car.
Harrison watched him go, frowning with his arms still crossed defensively over his chest. He didn’t relax until Fraser opened the door and was about to get in, but then he stopped and gave Harrison a look that oozed cockiness.
“You know that trick you used to pull off that everyone was too chicken to replicate? What the hell was it called…?”
Harrison felt a surge of irritation and anger rise inside him. He had been feeling bad about rejecting Fraser’s friendship offer, but now he was wondering how much shit he would get into if he took his steel baseball bat and smashed in the windows of his expensive rental car.
“Right, theKillinger. Hard to forget that one.” Fraser’s smile was about to split his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve totally figured out how it works.”
Harrison took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out.
“I’ll be on the ice with Townsend all week if you want to come see it again. Maybe you could watch and give me a few pointers so I can perfect it. I want to use it in my next official game.”
He didn’t give Harrison a chance to respond to his taunt. Fraser ducked into his car, gave a cheeky salute, and then turned the engine and spun out of there faster than Arlo had when he was running for his life.
Harrison was left standing on his porch alone and in silence, taking deep breaths to stop himself from overreacting.
He didn’t care if Fraser tried to copy him. It wouldn’t work since Fraser was a winger and the move was made for an arrogant center with the balls to pull it off. Mr. Sunshine-Golden Boy wouldn’t be able to take the risk of fucking it up, and at worst, pissing off his teammates.
