As friends. Platonically.
You don’t have friends.
I was going to lobotomize myself with a skate blade.
And even if this were something—which itwasn’t—he was straight. Formerly engaged to a woman that he was in a committed relationship with for a decade. You didn’t do that and then suddenly develop an interest in prickly figure skaters with commitment issues.
Whatever my brain was trying to do with the memory of him shirtless in his kitchen, it needed to stop.
Get a grip, Mathéo.
So.
Avoidance.
It was working great.
When Avery wasn’t talking my ear off—the power play setup, Morrison’s feedback on his positioning, whether he should try growing out his hair or if that was a terrible idea—he was gently prodding me about other things.Had I called Coach Miller yet? Had I talked to Mom? Had I consumed anything today besides coffee?
I was grateful for the reprieve of another road trip. Also, Derek’s apartment gym was significantly nicer than the one in Avery’s building and his shower had the kind of water pressure that made me reconsider my entire living situation.
Practical reasons. That was all.
I was definitely not thinking about the bergamot shower gel or whose skin it usually touched.
???
I took Aspen for a walk as soon as I arrived, dropping my bags by the door and letting him out of his crate. He launched himself at me with his usual full body enthusiasm, like I hadpersonally rescued him from abandonment rather than just shown up on schedule.
I had forgotten a hat again. The September heat was unrelenting and I’d left mine—somewhere, I didn’t know where, possibly still in Avery’s Jeep from the last time we had gotten dinner together. I grabbed the Frost hat from the hook by the door without thinking about it and pulled it on.
We walked past Walsh & Wilde, the giant windows catching the afternoon light. Aspen stopped to investigate a particularly interesting section of sidewalk and I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo—Aspen mid-sniff, the W&W logo visible behind him, the street busy with people who had better things to do than walk dogs in 30 degree heat.
I sent it to Derek.
The response came back faster than I expected.
Derek: Nice hat.
I looked at the photo again. Zoomed in. You could see my reflection in the window—barely, just an outline, but enough to clock the teal and black on my head.
Looks better on me, don’t you think?
I sent it before I could talk myself out of it.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Derek: It does. I’ll get you one of your own.
Derek: I get all sweaty walking Aspen in the summer.
It does.Something in my chest did a fluttery thing. Probably heatstroke. I looked down at Aspen, who had finished his investigation and was now waiting patiently for me to get my shit together.He’s straight,I reminded myself. In a relationship with a woman for ten years. You are reading into nothing.
Nah, I just forgot mine today. Thanks though. Good luck with your game.
Short. Casual. The kind of thing you’d text anyone.
Derek: Thanks again for helping with Aspen. Makes me feel more at ease knowing he’s with a friend.
