Fletcher shrugged. “Not for the whole summer.” He scratched the back of his head. “I mean, if you want Sánchez to go with you instead then I understand,” Fletcher told him. “But I just thought that maybe you’d ask me first. I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He lowered his voice cautiously when bringing it up.
Taylor looked at him and gave him a shy smile. He patted Fletcher on his back, giving him a friendly squeeze. This was a normal thing to do. It was friendly and familiar. Fletcher tried to ignore the way Taylor’s calloused hand brushed over his skin, sending chills down the back of his spine. He hated the way his body reacted to Taylor’s hand on him.
He let it linger there a little longer than he should’ve, Fletcher thought. He swiped his hand down to the small of Fletcher’s back before removing it completely. Definitely suggestive. Definitely not acting like they were forgetting what happened.
He watched as Taylor’s eyes fluttered down to his lips and back. Taylor bit his bottom lip trying to hide a grin, like he was thinking something funny in his head. “Okay. Please come with me.”
Fletcher felt like he was being sent mixed signals. This, the touching, the shyness. It wasn’t like before. This felt like new territory that Taylor had no problem exploring for whateverreason. Things had most definitely changed. Fletcher knew he shouldn’t lie to himself.
He wanted to reach over and kiss him right there. There was no way he was going to be able to pretend it didn’t happen. It was so obvious to the both of them that there was a spark. A scratch that needed to be itched. His mind kept replaying it. All of it. He felt like he was going insane. How was Taylor being so casual now? Did it not freak him out? Was he not spiraling too and rethinking every minute of their friendship?
Once the first group of guys came back from the showers, the second group of guys got up and left. Taylor’s phone started ringing.
“You go on ahead,” he said to Calhoun who was sitting on his other side further down the bench. Brasen looked up from his own phone, clearly transfixed on whatever he was looking at. Thankfully not eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’m getting a call,” Taylor told him. He cocked his head towards the direction of the showers, gesturing to Calhoun.
“Thanks, Piers.”
Taylor nodded at him before reaching back into his bag to check his phone. Calhoun grabbed his bag and strutted to the shower.
“Is Mandy calling you now?” Fletcher asked. Taylor shook his head. “It’s Mommy Gretch,” he joked. Fletcher liked the way Taylor had adopted the nickname he used for Cap’s wife. “She’s probably trying to get a hold of him while he’s in the shower.” Taylor answered the call and held the phone to his ear as he cleaned the ice off his blades. “Hey Gretchen. Yeah, I think he’s in the shower right now. No, I can’t go get him. That’s a little weird… No he doesn’t have a cute butt,” Taylor chuckled. “Uh, no he didn’t mention family dinner. Sunday night? Like in two weeks? Yeah I could do that. Wait… what?” he furrowed his eyebrows and chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, deal. Okay, I will. Alright. Love you, miss you. Bye.” He hung up and laughed as he put his phone in his bag again.
“Did you forget to fold your laundry before you left?” Fletcher teased. It made him wonder what Taylor’s room looked like. What Taylor was like around Cap’s family.
He remembered how crazy some of the fans were when they found out Taylor was living with the Panceks. They all thought it was the cutest thing ever for a rookie to be adopted into his Captain’s family.
He was even in their annual Christmas family photo. He was flamed pretty hard last year when everyone on the team received a Christmas card that had a photo of Taylor wearing matching footie pajamas with Pancek’s kids. And another photo where he sat on Santa’s lap. Santa being Pancek.
It wasn’t uncommon for veteran players and their families to take in younger players until they got a handle on their adulthood. Mostly to keep them out of trouble. Taylor was eighteen when he moved in with the Panceks. Fletcher thought it was pretty sweet, but he personally wouldn’t be caught dead getting dropped off at practice by the captain’s wife in her Suburban on the way to school drop off. Multiple times, he recalled.
“She asked me if I was free for dinner, but it was a trap. She needs me to watch the kids so they can go on a date.” Taylor rolled his eyes. “I keep forgetting to tell her my rate has gone up. No more free babysitting for the Panceks.” He smirked. “I swear I fall for it every time, too. It happens like once a month.”
“You’re just too nice, I guess,” Fletcher laughed.
Fletcher retrieved his toiletriesbag from his duffel and headed to the showers as a few other guys returned. He chose the shower at the very end of the room and hung up the towel he’d grabbed on the way. After waiting for the water to get warm, he began lathering some shampoo in his hair, massaging his scalp. There was no point in washing his hair now if he was going to shower again after the game, but Fletcher did so anyway. His mind was clearly elsewhere today, so he wasn’t really thinking straight.
Taylor occupied the shower right next to his, which wasn’t weird in the past. But after what happened, Fletcher admittedly grew a little nervous being around him so… exposed. Luckily, Taylor didn’t pay him much mind. He undid his messy knot.
Fletcher really liked Taylor’s hair any way he chose to style it, but he thought it looked the best when it was wet. Fletcher couldn’t help but notice the way Taylor’s back muscles contracted as he ran his hands through his hair. He was beautifully sculpted. You didn’t need to be gay to know that. Guys on the team talked about how sculpted they all looked all the time.
The steam from the hot water surrounded him like smoke to a flame, but every outline of his muscles was so prominent that they stuck out. Water dripped down his back, and Fletcher found himself following a particular droplet until he was full on staring at his friend’s ass. His round, perfectly defined ass.
Fletcher quickly focused on his own shower after realizing he was still sudsing the shampoo in his hair. He sighed as he leaned his head under the shower head to rinse out his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel Taylor watching him. Or maybe he was just being delusional. He allowed himself another peek, and sure enough, Taylor was looking.
They locked eyes, neither of them looking away. His eyesslowly took in every feature of Taylor’s face. His long, dark eyelashes. His long nose that was slightly crooked from a puck to the face when he was younger. His sharp cheekbones. His even sharper jawline. His full, pouty lips that had a prominent cupids bow. Lips that parted when Taylor realized Fletcher was staring at them.
“Stop,” he mouthed. Fuck.
Fletcher felt the blood drain from his face after getting caught. But he didn’t look away. His eyes kept on moving down, landing on the nape of Taylor’s neck. The faintest bruise from the hickey Fletcher left him was still visible. Just barely. Taylor’s jaw clenched. Fletcher swallowed as he flickered his eyes back to Taylor’s.
His pupils were dilated. He was nervous. Fletcher was making him nervous.
Taylor tore his gaze away, snapping Fletcher back to reality.
God, he needed to stop. Checking out his best friend was the complete opposite of what he should be doing. Fletcher was fighting a semi as he turned the water off and wrapped his towel around himself before any of his teammates could see.
Coach announced the bus would be departing back to the hotel within the next couple of minutes, so Fletcher quickly changed into some sweatpants and threw on a Seaporters T-shirt. He slipped on one of the black hoodies he had in his gear bag. Taylor had returned from the showers at some point too, but he tried not to look at him.
Fletcher was one of the first players back on the bus. He returned to the back where he sat on the way there. Like he always did.
