“The only emergency I’m seeing is that you are clearly too high strung. Maybe you should go home and relax, Amanda.”
“I can't go home and relax. My phone has been ringing off the hook since three in the morning,Nicholas.”
“That sounds like ayouproblem,” Nicholas grumbles, laying back down. His entire body is sore, and all he wants to do is go back to sleep. He got pummeled last night and not in a fun way. His jaw still aches from the fist he took to the face, and his team didn’t even win to make the fight feel worth it.
“I’d ask why you’re so grumpy, but I think at this point we both know this is just your general disposition.”
“Fuck off, I hurt.”
“Which is your own fault for getting in the goalie’s crease.”
“Whose fucking side are you on?” Nicholas demands, crankiness immediately replaced by anger.
“Not yours right now, that’s for sure. I’m pissed off.”
“No fucking shit.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“Because you like the money.”
“There isn’t enough fucking money in the world to put up with your shit, Nicholas.”
“Then why do you?” Nicholas demands, heart pounding like he just got off the ice. Something is simmering beneath the surface, her words too close to the ones his father has spoken a dozen times.
You’re a disappointment, Nicholas.
You embarrass the family, Nicholas.
Not even all the money in this family was enough to make you respectable, Nicholas.
“Because you’re my family and I love you, you asshole,” Amanda answers.
“No one fucking asked you to, so fuck off.”
Throwing himself down, he reaches for the blankets, almost screaming when Amanda yanks them clear off his bed.
“You’re getting up, and you’re going to deal with this shit storm you’ve created.”
“I hardly think getting in a fight over getting too close to the other team's goalie is a shit storm. That’s like hockey 101 or some shit.”
“I’m not talking about hockey, Nicholas. I’m talking about Andrew.”
“What about Andrew?” Nicholas asks, sitting up so swiftly his head swims.
Yesterday before his game, he’d been filled with unusual pregame nerves, and for reasons unknown to him, the only thing that was remotely appealing had been the prospect of seeing Andrew. Showing up at his job uninvited or unannounced was maybe not the smartest move, but he’d hoped riling Andrew up would calm him down. Instead, he found some stupid fuck of a coworker touching Andrew and saw red.
The fucking audacity of that bland as fuck coworker laughing and flirting withhisboyfriend. In that moment, it hadn’t mattered that the relationship wasn’t real, Nicholas doesn’t fucking share.
Maybe they agreed to keep it quiet and maybe it isn’t real, but no one touches what belongs to Nicholas, and Andrew King ishis.
Despite the public claiming, he was out of sorts all night. It’d meant his game was off, so he’d picked an exceptionally stupid fight and done something even he usually avoids. He’d antagonized the opposing team’s goalie, knowing it was going to get him body-checked, at the very least. He knew he was going to get into a fight, because the biggest unspoken rule in hockey is ‘don’t touch the goalie.’A fight was exactly what he’d needed—or so he thought. He didn’t feel better after last night, and he doesn’t feel better now, which just pisses him off.
Stupid fucking fake boyfriend shit is messing with his head.
“Nicholas, pay attention when I speak.” Amanda snaps in front of his face like he’s a goddamn dog. “We need to discuss Andrew.”
“If we’re doing this, I need coffee,” Nicholas gripes, forcing himself out of bed and ignoring Amanda’s mumbling as she follows behind him. She remains thankfully quiet while he jabs at his coffee machine until it starts making him a latte.
