He scoffs, glaring in my direction. “No, he definitely makes me want to rage.”
“But the rage turns you on.” I hold up my hands so he knows I’m not judging him. Because same bitch.
He cringes, which means my guess landed. “Ouch. Just call me out why don’t you?”
“Do you think that’s normal?” I ask. He makes a face, but he’s not arguing, so I go on, “Maybe you’ve ignored it other times because it was subtle, and this one you couldn’t. Or it only happened because he actually got you to hit him. Or you’re somewhere on the spectrum closer to straight. Being bisexual doesn’t mean you’re equally attracted to all sexes—it’s a spectrum for a reason.” I sit up and put my arm around him, figuring we both need it. “And I’ve known you were at least a little gay since we started having cuddle parties to watch movies.”
He leans into me. “A guy secure in his sexuality can do that.”
“Sure, but that’s not the box you fit into.”
“What about Wolfe? Don’t fucking tell me he’s straighter than I am. That might actually offend me.” He glares again.
“Please, he’s not straight either.” I throw back my normal joke about Wolfe, but it hits me in the chest. He kissed me and has always been touchy-feely with me and just comfortable in his sexuality, which is why I’ve always said it. It’s a joke, or at least I need to believe it is.
“You two okay?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I don’t really want to talk about it until I figure it out with Wolfe. “You going to keep seeing Ktytor?”
“I don’t know if I can stop.” His eyes tell me he doesn’t want to stop.
“Do you think that’s a good idea? Not only are you both going to piss off your coaches, but you’re going to end up in different places. You’re both going to be in the first round of the draft. How do you think the pros would feel about you two in a relationship and playing against each other?”
He blows out a breath. “I think we’ve proven fucking is not going to come before the game.”
I consider my words carefully before I speak, “And what will that do to your relationship? You can’t keep up what you’ve been doing.”
“We’re just fucking. It’s not a relationship.”
“Okay,” I say sarcastically. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You know he’s kinda a dick.”
“I’m also kinda a dick.”
“I won’t argue that, but you’re my friend, so I have to be ride or die. And speaking of dicks…” I turn to look at him.
He avoids my eyes, cheeks getting pink. “Don’t ask.”
“Come on.” I pull back further because now I want to know. “He’s hot, and apparently doesn’t sleep with anyone—I’ve asked around with the puck bunnies. They thought he was asexual. Their gossip threads are unhinged, and no one knows. I needthe tea because I’m not getting laid, so let me live vicariously through you.”
“You can’t expect me to know what a good size is—” He’s totally making excuses to not tell me.
I cut him off. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, boy. I know you’ve seen a ton of cock in locker rooms. At least enough to tell me if he’s above average.”
“Not hard.” Also not necessarily true.
“Ronan, give me at least average or…” It’s kind of nice to have another guy into dick on the team to gossip with. This is what I’ve been missing.
He’s getting all worked up just thinking about it. Seaborn is down bad. “It’s above.”
I smirk. I knew it. “How much above?”
“Not as big as me, but thicker…” He shrugs with a smile.
I slap him playfully. “You asshole.”
“What did I do?”
“Got the un-getable, and he’s well endowed. Fuck’s sake. You’re both talented, too? Makes me sick.”
