“Thought you’d never play for the Stars if your dad coached there.”
“That’s a nonissue. He’ll be fired soon.”
“You keep saying that…”
There’s no denying that the direction the Stars are going in is bizarre.Half the team are following one set of plays and the other appears to be looking to their captain for answers.
When they follow their C, holy fuck, those games are MAGICAL.
“Wanna bet on him losing his job before the All-Star break?”
I tap his chin. “Okay. What are we betting?”
“Whatever we want.”
“You go first.”
“How about… you wear my ring without a murmur of complaint if he gets fired before the playoffs?”
Doing a great impression of a goldfish, I splutter, “Zach! You can’t joke about this stuff. Anyway, you just said the All-Star break. I’ll be back home before then.”
“I’m not joking. And it isn’t like I’m talking about engagement rings.” I refuse to feel disappointed. Not when this is fast. Crazy,insanelyfast. “But a promise ring.”
Eyes wide, I repeat, “A promise ring?!”
His hand toys with the finger that kind of ring would sit on. “Maybe you could wear it when you’re in Madrid.”
My mouth opens.
Then closes.
I know this is more about pissing on me like I’m a fire hydrant but…
Everything inside me softens and squirms.
There’s dread in his eyes at the prospect of me leaving. There’s hope there too. Fear. Worry. Preemptive grief. A whole host of emotions that I know he’s not best prepared to deal with and all of them center around me.
For a man with the emotional span of his cubby, this is alot.
“What about you?”
“Huh?”
“If I’m bagged and tagged?—”
“Denny!”
“What?! That’s what this is about.” I shove his shoulder, which does interesting things to the still-thickened dick inside me. “How am I staking a claim on you? You’re the one who’s surrounded by pretty girls who want to get into your boxer briefs.”
“And you’ll be surrounded by hot Spanish guys who’ll think you’re on a pilgrimage to find yourself while fucking your way through the city as some kind of rebellion against the puritanical norms of the US.”
I blink. “You really thought about this.”
His grin’s sheepish. “Maybe.”
“You know that’s not why I’m going, don’t you?”
He studies me from under his lashes. “Maybe? I… I want you to have fun, and if that’s what you think’s fun, then at least I taught you how to be treated by guys.”
