“Are the other guys as smart as you?”
“Not the young ones. They’ll learn quickly, though.” He points his fork at me. “What about you? Are you feeling sore with your new workout space?”
“I was a little sore in my inner thighs the other day, but for the most part, I feel pretty good. I used your sauna again. I hope that’s okay.”
“What’s mine is yours.”
“Which seems incredibly unfair.”
“It’s not,” he says. “We’re friends, right, Ollie?”
I tilt my head, studying him. He might not like to show his vulnerable side, but here, at this moment, I can see it. His question, sort of wondering where we stand. Maybe that’s why he’s been so distant lately. Maybe he doesn’t know, especially after we shared the almost kiss. So to reassure him, I say, “Yes. We’re friends.”
“Good,” he answers. “That means we don’t owe each other anything. You ask, it’s yours.”
“Okay, then the same would go for me. I don’t have much to offer, but if you ask, it’s yours.”
“You have more to offer than you think,” he says when he glances up at me, causing the back of my neck to break out in a cool sweat.
“Oh yeah, like what?” I ask playfully.
“You’re cool,” he says, surprising me. “I love hanging out with my guys, but sometimes it’s nice to see a different face, and you’re fun to hang out with.”
I press my hand to my chest. “Silas Taters, I can’t believe you’re offering me such a compliment. Coming from the man who nearly had a coronary when I talked about him perverting over donkeys.”
“For fuck’s sake, I thought we dropped that.”
I press my finger to the table. “Donkey pervert is the foundation of this friendship. It will never go away.”
“I thought the foundation is you randomly kissing me in a bar.”
I roll my eyes at that. “That truth is for you, me, and Ross only because he witnessed the whole thing and questioned me quickly afterward. But everyone else knows us as the people who bonded over a donkey while your fly was down. That’s something we need to hang on to.”
“Lucky me.”
“You’re right . . . lucky you.”
* * *
Silas drapeshis arm over the back of the couch as he casually faces me. The rest of the dinner was easygoing. We joked around. He smirked. I laughed. And it felt like things were getting back to normal, which I appreciated greatly.
Now that we retreated to the couch, I feel more relaxed and not so stiff. He seems the same as well.
“What do you do for fun, Silas?”
“Not much,” he answers. “Don’t have much fun during the season. I’m either working out, playing hockey, eating, or sleeping.”
“Riveting,” I respond. “What about when it’s the off-season? You said you go up to your cabin, right?”
“Yeah, just hang out with the boys. Play games, drink beer, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“So you don’t have any hobbies?”
“Too busy to have hobbies,” he answers.
“That seems boring. You’ve got to like doing something besides things that coincide with hockey.”
“Haven’t had a chance to explore. I came right out of high school with a girlfriend and a dream. I was going to play professionally, so when I wasn’t training or playing, I focused on Sarah. All my time was taken up with no room to spare.”
