As the night winds down, the women vie for his attention, trying to be the one to go home with him. He doesn’t even have enough arms for them all, but he eats up the attention, and I watch like I do often. It’s a guilty pleasure, and even draped in women, he’s hot. Bigger than he was four years ago. He’s put on a lot of muscle in college, and with as tall as he is, he dwarfs most other hockey players.
Wolfe breaks free from the gaggle of women, much like a real-life Kool-Aid Man breaking through the wall, and bounds over wrapping me up in a massive hug.
“Are you okay?” I ask, not sure what brought on the sudden dose of affection.
“I missed you!” He slurs his words.
“I’ve been here all night.”
“I know, but I forgot for a minute.” His golden retriever energy has only grown with his size.
“You’re drunk.” I pull back.
“I might be a tiny, itty-bitty drunk.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.
“I don’t think you’re itty-bitty anything.”
He ignores me. “But I am not too drunk to know something is going on!”
“What is going on?”
“Seaborn! He’s been acting weird since our game against the monsters.” Wolfe chastises like I should know.
“And? He’s been hard on himself about Ktytor. He’ll get over it.”
“This weird is different, and if I don’t talk about it, it will get trapped in my brain, and I won’t sleep.” He does have a one-track mind.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Please!”
“There are three girls begging for your attention. Distract yourself. I’m going to go get my dick sucked by the guy who keeps messaging me on Grindr.” I try to pull out of his arms, but my protest only makes him squeeze me tighter.
I lean into him and for a second want him to stop me, but I’m not new to this game. I know how this goes. I’m not getting my hopes up.
“I won’t sleep.” He sticks out his lower lip.
“Go take one of those girls to bed. I’m sure they can help you sleep.” I give up fighting his hold.
“But I can’t gossip with them.”
I stare at him. “Why not?”
“Because no one gossips like a cunty, gay man, and you know it.”
I sigh, because he’s right. “It will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m not in the mood. I’m horny, and speculating about Seaborn’s sex life will only make that worse.”
Wolfe does a double-take. “What?”
I’m confused. “Huh?”
“I asked you first.”
“What are you asking me?” I’m way too sober for this.
“Why would Ronan turn you on?” he demands like it’s personally offensive. Wolfe used Seaborn’s first name, which means he’s serious.
“Have you seen him?” The guy wasn’t bad to look at. “But he’s straight. Calm down.”
