“Jesus, kids,” Bella muttered. “You know this is your night off, right?”
Around us, conversations were begun and ended. Corey left to go to her roommate’s concert, and Orson arrived with a six-pack of Harpoon.
Graham and I played all three periods of the game without handing it off to anyone else. I was up by one goal when the buzzer rang.
“I’m next!” Orson said immediately. “Trade you a Harpoon for the controller.”
“Deal.”
I handed Orson my controller, but turned to look at Graham. His face was as sweaty as mine felt. And his expression said:this ain't over.
A couple of beers later, Graham broke out the scotch. He and I sipped wordlessly while Hartley battled Orson to a tie. Bella was engrossed in her phone the whole time. “I have to go,” she said eventually, standing up. “Pepé’s girlfriend dumped him, and I think he needs some comforting.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Graham asked.
Bella gave him an ornery look and shouldered her bag. “Goodnight all,” she said. I received a kiss on the cheek, and then she was gone.
After Hartley beat Orson, Graham cued up another Red Wings vs. Bruins game. “Rematch,” he said, his voice stiff.
“If you insist,” I said. “It will only end the same way, dude.”
“Arrogant,” Graham grumbled.
“Slow reflexes,” I returned.
Orson laughed. “Competitive much?”
“Good clean fun,” I said, covering a smile. Poor Orson had no way of knowing that RealStix had once been our favorite form of foreplay.
Shit, I really needed to get out of this room before too long. Just a few minutes more…
But the game sucked me in. And when I looked up again, Hartley and Orson were gone. It was the middle of the third period of a scoreless game. And my mind snagged on the idea that I was sitting here with Graham alone, at lonely-o’clock. It was just enough distraction to be my undoing. Graham snuck around the net and scored on me. “FUCK!” I yelled, wiping my forehead.
“That’s right. Patience is a virtue.”
As the faux crowd went wild, I put the controller down. “Your game, dude. I should go.”
“What? With three minutes on the clock? You just can’t standofficiallylosing.”
“Jackass.”
His face wore a teasing smile — the same one I used to see when we played video games alone five years ago.
Ireallyneeded to get out of here.
Graham kicked the controller with his bare foot, nudging it into my hip. Fine. Three minutes. Then I was going to be history.
The clock ticked down, leaving Graham and his Red Wings as the winners. “Finally!” he crowed, standing up to stretch.
“Okay, happy?” I asked. Getting up off the beanbag, I grabbed my shoes. I perched on the edge of his bed to put them on. I had just untangled the laces on the first one when my shoe disappeared from view, ripped from my hands by Graham. I raised my eyes, knowing exactly what I’d find there. Graham’s face was flushed, and there was a lusty gleam in his eye.
Fuck. When he looked at me like that, it was hard to breathe. Even so, I had a moment of absolute clarity.Here we go again, I chided myself even as he pushed my shoulders back onto the bed. I caught myself on my elbows, and time paused for the briefest speck of a moment. Then Graham closed his needy eyes, lowering himself onto me. And then his mouth landed on mine, hot and determined.
I’m sure I grunted in disbelief. And maybe for two or three seconds, I was too wary to let go. But he cupped my jaw, deepening the kiss. Then I opened for him, and that’s all it took. The first real taste of him ruined me. As Graham began to take long pulls from my mouth, the kiss went wild. I shoved myself further up onto that bed, and he followed me in a rush. And then my arms were free to yank him closer.
Fused at the mouth, we bumped and twisted on the bed. For a moment I was on my side, jamming one of my legs between his. Then the world tilted and I found myself on my back, Graham’s hot weight pressing me into the mattress. All the while, our limbs clamped gracelessly around each other. And we were kissing. Always kissing. We couldn’t keep our mouths apart. In fact, Graham made a clumsy attempt to strip me of my shirt. But it was unsuccessful because he wouldn’t release my mouth long enough to pull it over my face. And I wouldn’t remove my hands from his ass long enough to help.
I stroked him through the denim, my hands delving down his crease, as far down as I could reach, and he let out a monstrous groan.
