I can’t be certain with how far away he is, but I’m pretty sure Adrian is already focused on me from the front row of the box when I wave up at them. He really is easy to spot with how much shorter he is than the rest of his friends, but he also stands out because he’s the only one who jumps as he waves back, obviously excited about the win.
His reaction is… cute. That’s the only word I can really use. I know he isn’t excited that a player waved at him after the win. He’s excited to be sharing the moment with me as my friend. It makes something unexpected flutter in my chest to see how happy he is for not only me but also the team that I care so much about. Adrian is just as in love with the Werewolves and even with hockey in general as I am.
That’s something I’ve always thought would be amazing to have in a partner, but I was convinced it could never be an option for me. Could it be possible now? I can’t help it; I’m thinking about the house again, about how perfectly the tour went, how happy and excited Adrian was with each new room we saw. He had a way of painting a picture for each space that was so easy to imagine. We haven’t been living together for all that long, less than two months, and I’ve only been thinking about my feelings for him for far less time than that, and yet it was even easier to imagine sharing the home with him than it was to think about living thereall alone.
By the end of the tour, I was so swept up in those thoughts that I’d pushed a little further, allowing myself to test out flirting with him again for the first time knowing that I might actually mean it.
And it was fun. Seeing him blush, joking around with him about sexual favors. I wasn’t worried he might take me seriously, and I was disappointed when he didn’t. I know that says a lot about my apparently obvious feelings about and for him, but today was definitely not the time to admit any of that to him.
Luckily I’m not held back for any extra press or stars tonight, so it doesn’t take me long to get back to my locker. I grab my phone first thing, hoping to catch Adrian this time before he leaves.
Hudson
Come out with us?
I leave my phone open on the shelf in front of me as I change, embarrassingly nervous about his reply. It shouldn’t matter so much to me if he wants to join the team at the bar or not, but if the fluttering in my stomach is anything to go by, it obviously does. I want to see him, and not across an arena. I want to spend time actually hanging out with him.
Sure, we were together for most of the time I had off today, but it never feels like enough.
I grab the phone again as soon as it vibrates.
Adrian
IDK, I’m pretty tired.
Hudson
You don’t have to stay for long, it’ll be fun!
Adrian
Hmmm… Will there be hot hockey players there for me to flirt with?
I know he’s only joking. Adrian’s always joked around with the whole team about how attractive they all are, how he’s so lucky to work with so many hot men, that sort of thing. Everyone loves him, and I’ve never given it much thought, usually playing off his comments to join in on the fun.
But now that I’m thinking about him in this new light, and about the possible truth behind my own flirting… I don’t love the idea of him doing that with anyone else.
Hudson
I’ll be there, so OBVIOUSLY! No need to worry about talking to anyone else ;)
Hopefully the winking emoji I sent with that makes it come across as less creepy, possessive vibes and more fun and flirty.
Because apparently that’s how I want to come across to Adrian now, despite all my convictions to keep the new feelings I’m having about him to myself.
But flirting is fine. We’ve always flirted. It’s just teasing between friends unless we actually do anything about it, and obviously we won’t. I’m not ready for that.
At least I don’t think I am.
16
ADRIAN
“An espresso martini, please.”
Not entirely sure what the hell I’m doing out at the bar with the team right now, but I’m here instead of in bed after a long day so I need caffeine with my alcohol. I run a hand over my fitted suit jacket as I wait, thankful I went straight from the office to tonight’s game. Sometimes I wear Werewolves merch to watch them, but I’m glad to not look like a random fan tonight if I’ll be hanging out with the players.
“Thank you.” I leave my tip and take a big swig of the drink, pretending like I’m back in my early twenties when I would have loved to be out this late with all the players. I mean, I also love it now—I’m still kind of in shock that Hudson invited me in the first place—but I’m also tired in a way I would have never admitted back then. Obviously my desire to spend time with Hudson, especially in public, won out over sleep though.
