All around us, people started dozing off again. The bus was silent except for the engine and the road noise.
I was still awake. So was Taylor. Our drinks were long since empty, and we’d resorted to scrolling our phones.
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, though, I lost my cell service. The bus had WiFi, but it wasn’t working so great either. Eventually, I gave up and pocketed my phone. A few minutes later, so did Taylor.
If we were smart, we’d nap again. We still had several hours left on the road, and if we slept tomorrow, we’d fuck up our sleep schedules. But I was still awake. Taylor was still awake. Mile after mile, we sat in silence while our teammates slept around us.
It was probably four or five in the morning when Taylor twisted a little to face me. “Can I confess something really stupid?”
Caught off guard, I raised my eyebrows. “Uh. Sure?”
He stared down at his hands. Then he faced me, and when he spoke, his voice was so soft it barely reached me. “The reason I couldn’t play for shit tonight?” He exhaled and dropped his gaze again, shaking his head. “My… mind was not on hockey.”
“What was it on?”
He looked at me again, his expression pointed as if to say“put the pieces together, Vasily.”
But what pieces was I supposed to put together? I couldn’t read his mind. I had no idea what he?—
Last night. Jerking off in my room while I thought about all the things I wanted to do with him. While I thought about his smile and his laugh and the way we’d looked at me while we’d talked on the bus and…
I gulped.
So did Taylor.
When I swept my tongue across my lips, his breath hitched.
He dropped his gaze and shifted in his seat. “I… Look, I won’t lie—I was into you when we met at the club, and I’m still…” He trailed off, biting his lip.
“Oh,” I whispered, my heart absolutely slamming against my ribs. “I… I was too. Back then.” I swallowed. “And now.”
Taylor’s eyes snapped up to meet mine. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
We held each other’s gazes for a long moment. I had no idea what to say. He didn’t seem to know either.
Finally, he broke the silence: “Would it be weird if I said I wanted to see you after you go back to Seattle?” He paused. “I mean, like… outside of hockey? One-on-one?”
My heart pounded impossibly harder. “One-on-one? Like…”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he whispered, and fuck me, I did know what he meant.
“Like…” I pushed out a ragged breath. “Picking up where we left off at the club.”
His Adam’s apple jumped, and he nodded.
Oh. Hell.
I could barely find my breath, but I managed to whisper, “I, uh… It wouldn’t be weird. I’d… I’d like that too.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Yeah?”
I nodded. Then I laughed softly as my face heated. “Like I said, though,” I whispered. “I’ve only been with one person. Never touched anyone else.”
Internally, I was bracing for the reminder of my inexperience to make him tense up and back off, or for him to laugh at me.
And yet, somehow, I wasn’t at all surprised when his eyes flicked to my lips, and he smiled. In the darkness, his hand slid over my thigh.
