“It’s only fair.”
“Well since we’rebothbeing honest, I like it as a fantasy, not so sure about it practically.” My other hand plays with the hair between his horns. “To paraphrase a very sexy man, Imaybewould be open to it. Later. But it’s not at the top of my list.”
He keeps smiling but there’s more to it now, a relaxed air that wasn’t there before. “And which sexy man said that?”
I tilt my head into the mattress, pretending to think. “I’m pretty sure it’s fromTo Frost the Thaw.You must not have gotten to that part yet.”
“Donottell me you think the author is sexy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, as if offended.
“He’s got crazy eyes.” He laughs like he’s been dying to say that for weeks. “And I’m not one to tell other furry monster folk how to maintain themselves, but he needs a good brushing.”
“See, I think he’d be a very thorough lover.” A yawn sneaks up on me, but I push past it. “Maybe I’ll make that my capstone project.”
He sighs, sitting up. “I already hate the no sleepover rule.”
“I’m not sleeping over…” I grumble, my cheek flat against the mattress.
He looks down at me and pushes my bangs aside. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy,” His soft fingers threaten to lull me to sleep and I force myself to sit up.
“When can I see you again?” he asks as he traces my collarbone with the back of his fingers.
Groggy, I crawl across the bed to grab my abandoned jeans. “I’ll give you my schedule.” As much as I want to crawl back to him, climb under the covers and take a nice long rest on his chest, I can’t break my own rules so immediately.
I text him a link, figuring it’s not too odd considering our last dozen texts have been about rink times. As I put my pants back on, he says quizzically, “It’s an excel sheet?”
“I have four formulas and a vision.”
“The colors are nice.”
Dressed, I get up to leave, catching him out of the corner of my eye still studying my schedule. He scrambles out of bed. “Let me walk you down.”
I glance at his now flaccid, but still impressive, penis. “I know it’s Halloween, but let’s not scare your neighbors.” I approach, getting up on my toes to kiss him on the tip of his nose. I whisper, “Goodnight, Christos.”
His voice is somehow softer than mine, despite a voice that could move mountains. “Goodnight, Roderick.”
Chapter
Twelve
All of Skate Canada’scompetitors circle each other, each waiting our turns to run through our free program before the real competition. Three of the skaters have already finished, but I still have the first song stuck in my head. Rémy de Villeneuve takes center stage, skating to a bouncy pop track in French. Yet all I can hear is the staccato operatic track for the youngest skater here, Yessen Diyas.
Everyone seems to avoid the kid, or maybe they’re keeping their distance so they can keep an eye on him. He placed first in the last two Junior Grand Prix. Last month, he got silver at the China Cup.
I feel for him. There are benefits to youth, but it comes with less experience. Not that Rémy is much older, eighteen versus Yessen’s seventeen. Come to think of it, am I the oldest person here?
I take a water break, eyeing up the competition and trying to remember everyone’s ages. It’s a lot of teenagers, another twenty-year-old in addition to myself, and thank god for JJ Chan, who is a few years older than me. He’s looking good. Granted, we’re skating on his home turf, so it’s not like he’s jet-lagged. What even is the time change between Kazakhstan and Saskatchewan?
I lean over the railing to grab my phone off the bench to check, when I see a poundr notification.
3dge-m3:Come by on Wednesday
Checking to make sure Maude isn’t around, I open up the app.
TwinkleTop:I’m free Wednesday?
3dge-m3:Looks like it. After seven.
