Never in his life would he consider anything to be perfect. But Fletcher finally felt like he belonged and was needed.
“I can’t believe you dragged us to a fucking country music bar,” Taylor groaned to Sánchez. “I think my ears are bleeding.”
“Hermano, you’ve been in a pissy mood since we got here. Fix the attitude or I’ll deck you.”
Fletcher chuckled, knowing exactly why Taylor was in sucha bad mood. He couldn’t complain. It was hot seeing him this way. They’d been there an hour and Taylor had already asked him to go to the bathroom twice.
“C’mon, babe,” Taylor said lowly into his ear. Heat gathered in Fletcher’s body. Taylor had never called him a pet name before. It was always Armstrong, Fletch, Fletcher. But something about Taylor calling him “babe” really excited him. Because it gave Fletcher hope that maybe this thing they had wasn’t as one-sided as Fletcher thought.
Taylor was warming up to the idea of them being something more. Fletcher felt it in his chest. He was slowly chipping away at the wall Taylor kept up, preventing anything more than a casual hookup from happening.
Fletcher was going crazy not knowing what Taylor felt like. He wanted nothing more than Taylor to bend him down and fuck him. It was all he could think about these days. As far as he knew, penetrative sex was off the table. He knew Taylor wasn’t the kind of guy to have casual sex. But Fletcher’s excitement grew by the day. He felt it in his bones. There was such a loud voice inside of him, telling him to just give it time. Taylor needed time to come to terms with it. Fletcher needed to be patient. So he would be.
“You haven’t even finished your beer,” Fletcher told him with a smirk.
Taylor quickly brought the glass to his lips and chugged the rest of his drink. He slammed it back down on the table.
“Ready?” he asked impatiently.
Fletcher shook his head, loving to see him squirm like this. As much as he wanted to let Taylor grab him by the arm and drag him out of there, he knew getting Taylor wound up would make it feel all the better. “Not yet. I’m having fun. You know Ilove country music.”
Taylor scoffed. “I’m going to get another pitcher,” he groaned, leaving Fletcher at the high-top table with Sánchez, Roca, Douglas, Pancek, and Bolving.
Fletcher expected him to come back right after getting his second beer, but when Douglas suddenly started whistling in the direction of the bar, Fletcher turned his head and his blood boiled.
“Looks like you’ll be bunking with us for the night, Little Armstrong,” Douglas snickered.
Taylor was at the bar. Talking to a girl. He poured beer into an empty glass for her before holding it up to cheers.
“Holy shit,” Bolving quipped. “I’ve never seen him pick a chick up before. Go Piers,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.
“Usually it’s Little Armstrong,” Roca scoffed. “Hey man, you should go get in on that,” he nodded towards the bar. “Maybe he’ll share.” Everyone around them started laughing and patting Fletcher on the back.
Fletcher was seething. Anger was an understatement. He had complete tunnel vision, setting his sights on the whore who was trying to steal his… Taylor. Fuck.
Fletcher chugged the rest of his beer before storming over to the bar.
Taylor turned his head and gave Fletcher a knowing look. That fucker.
“Look who it is!” Taylor smirked. Grinning like a fucking wolf in sheep’s skin. “Hey Armstrong, this is…” He pointed towards the girl, snapping his fingers fingers as he tried to remember her name.
“Michelle,” the girl answered innocently.
Taylor looked at her and smiled. “Right. Michelle. This is myteammate. Fletch Armstrong.”
She smiled at Fletcher. “I know who he is. I love hockey. I’m a huge fan of your dad,” she told him.
“He’s one of the greats,” Taylor smirked. “Solid guy. Just like his son here.”
“You’ve met him?” She gushed to Taylor.
“Oh yeah,” he answered, not looking away from Fletcher. “Little Armstrong’s my best bud. We’re like brothers.” He turned to look at the girl and give her another shit-eating grin.
“Shut up! That’s adorable,” she said.
“Can I have the room key?” Fletcher asked him curtly. “I’m pretty tired after the game. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“So early?” Taylor fake pouted. “You’ve had what, like three beers? We’ve only been here an hour, man. Don’t cut the night short. We gotta celebrate that hat trick.”
