After the game, I take one look at Vince’s shiny torso next to my locker and decide to wait him out. It’s not his fault when we brush up against one another changing, but the sweaty, moist feeling of his skin against mine makes me want to die. No, the best thing to do is stand to the side and wait for him to finish. Behind me, Luke is chatting happily with one of our outfielders as he changes. Walking over, I lean a shoulder against the side of his stall. The lucky bastard has an end locker.
“Hello, MG,” he greets me. I raise an eyebrow.
“MG?”
“Short for Marcos the Grouch.” Seeing my facial expression, he laughs. “Nicknames are a sign of friendship and love.”
“I’m definitely feeling the friendship and love,” I deadpan, which makes him laugh again. “Max here?”
“Yeah! Didn’t he tell you he was coming?”
“He did, but I couldn’t find him in the stands. He’s usually to the right of home.”
Luke shrugs. “I don’t know what seat. He’s here, though. He’s coming with me to my place tonight. Bryce got the new NHL game and he wants to play it with, you know, a real-life hockey star.”
I smile at that. Max is absolutely a real-life hockey star.
“What are you going to do tonight?” Luke asks, before realizing I’m still in my uniform. “Aren’t you changing?”
“Just waiting for things to clear out a little bit.” I nod toward Vince and Luke grimaces in sympathy. “And I’m not doing anything tonight. Maybe just get ahead on some homework.”
Luke makes a face likely meant to convey how awful my night sounds compared to his plans with Max. Glancing over at my locker, I determine the area looks clear enough for me to strip. Not wanting to waste any more time and more than ready to leave, I take the same route as Luke and forgo a shower. I’ll just shower once I get home.
As I get undressed, Luke wanders over and sits on the bench nearest my locker. His face is ducked as he looks down at his phone, leg bouncing up and down as though he’s still got pent-up energy after the game. I glance back at him. He’s obviously waiting for me even though it’s unnecessary. He’s leaving with Max, after all, and they’re not coming back home.
“You can head out, if you want,” I tell him. He looks up, smiling, and shrugs.
“I’ll wait. Max will want to see you before we go over to my place.” He lays his phone down on his lap, losing the smile and eyes turning contemplative. “Do you…have a plan for next year?”
I raise my eyebrows, but delay answering by bending over to slip on clean socks. Before Max and Luke met, the plan was for me to join him in Detroit when we graduated and he started in the NHL. Now? I have no idea if Max will even want me tagging along as the third wheel in a relationship that is solid enough not to need one.
“I don’t know what the plan is,” I admit, keeping my gaze on my feet. I don’t want Luke to see the sudden sadness I’m sure is in my eyes.
“Me and Max are still going to be together,” he tells me, voice firm. I nod, because that much had been obvious to me. “And I want to go with him to Detroit.”
“You should,” I agree.
“But you should come, too. If that was what the plan was for you guys, I don’t want you changing that for me. You should come with us,” he repeats.
“You talked to Max about this?”
“Yeah, a little bit.” Luke rolls his eyes fondly. “He asked if I might want to go with him. As if there was a chance I wouldn’t. Idiot.”
“I’ll think on it a bit. I don’t really know what to do, and I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. I’ve been…focused on other things.”
“Okay. I just wanted you to know where we stand. Don’t stay away just because of me.”
I nod and shoulder my bag. Silently, we walk out of the locker room together. I huff a small laugh when Luke immediately swivels his head around, eyes wide as he searches for Max, and is clearly disappointed that he’s not hovering directly outside the door.
“Well, I thought he was here,” he mumbles.
“Come on. I bet he’s just outside.”
Max is indeed outside, standing in the sunshine and chatting with none other than Nate. A fission of energy goes through my body, like I just put my hand on a live wire and electrocuted myself. He looks beautiful in his jeans and dark blue V-neck. His skin is practically glowing in the light, as though even the sun is happy to have the opportunity to kiss him. Luke nudges me with an elbow, clueing me in on the fact that I was probably starting to drool.
“Damn, Marcos,” he says in an impressed sort of voice. “Good work.”
“Shut up,” I mumble as we approach the pair.
