“Do you only date Black guys, cuz…ya know…the big dick situation?” Mav leans in.
King’s eyes dart away, and he scratches the underside of his chin. “It’s a stereotype, not a guarantee.”
My mind goes directly to how big his dick is. It’s like I hate myself and get off on torture. There are zero reasons I need to think about his dick.
Mav slaps King on the back. “I want stories!” he sings. “Oh, and I’m bi, FYI.”
“Arggg.” Benz hugs Mav. “This is so exciting. Wait until I tell Leo.”
I’m being punked. “You want to tell your boyfriend that Mav, the new guy, who is arguably good-looking, is bi? Are you dumb?”
“No.” Benz’s lower lip sticks out in a pout. “He’ll be excited too. There are so many of us. It’s like a support group with me, Leo, Liska, Trevor, Lucky, Drake, King, and now we’re adding Brant and Mav. We’re like the awesomest hockey team in the world.”
“You aren’t worried he’ll try to scoop up Mav?” I pronounce each word slowly so he’ll understand me. Awesomest isn’t a word, but I let it slide. And I doubt anyone wants to be in his support group. But he’s right about one thing: we have the queerest team in the league. I know I could come out to them, and they wouldn’t judge, but I still haven’t figured out King’s game. I’ll never show my cards before knowing what I’m getting into.
“Nope, that man is going to marry me and make an honest man out of me. Speaking of that, I gotta talk to Trevy and Liska about their bachelor party.” He bounds away and I stare.
He isn’t worried in the least about his boyfriend screwing a younger guy. Could be love or delusion.
“Oookay.” Mav rolls his shoulders. “Who’s going out with me?”
“I’m in,” Brant says immediately.
“I’m out.” King shrugs, and Mav and Brant boo him.
“Will it be the new trio out on the town?” Mav asks.
“Nah. Not tonight.” My head is going to explode from information overload, and I can’t handle anything else.
“Bummer,” Mav says, but doesn’t boo.
After they leave, I tell King, “You could’ve gone. Don’t let me stop you.” I check my phone, and it’s only 7:30 p.m. Day games on the weekend mess up my sense of time.
“I have something else to do.” King shifts his feet and looks away.
“Hot date?” The words come out aggressively.
King opens his mouth and shuts it, looking like a gaping fish. “You could come with me.”
“On your date? Not in this lifetime.” My jaw tightens and my fingers twitch.
King grabs my elbow. “It’s not a date. You might like it.”
His hand burns my skin, and the heat radiates out from my elbow. I drown in his aqua eyes that glow in the low light. They draw me in, and I can’t escape—don’twantto escape.
He lets go of my elbow to check his phone. “If you’re coming, we have to leave now or we’ll be late.”
The spell is broken, and I breathe a sigh of relief. King can’t be trusted. I shake my head, refusing his offer. He says it’s not a date, but he’s nervous and sweaty, the way he’d probably act before a date. The thought sparks my anger.
He’s a liar and a fraud, and I’m going to prove it.
For all I know, he’s trying to lure me into a dark alley and have me murdered.
I shake my head to refuse him.
“Maybe next time.” He sounds hopeful.
“Maybe,” I lie. As if I’d ever go anywhere with him.
