“Yeah, he’s right,” Lane agreed. He went over to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Popped the tops and handed one to Trevor. “But we do expect that you’re gonna listen when we say it.”
Trevor swallowed hard. He wanted to listen. Hedid. Normally, he thought he was a pretty easygoing, relaxed guy.Goodabout stuff. But whenever Lane told him something, it was like he froze up, worried he’d exposed a soft underbelly that he wasn’t sure he even understood himself.
Insecurities weren’t new to him, necessarily, but they had never followed him onto the football field.
“Alright,” Trevor agreed. “I’ll try to be better about it.”
“Pay attention to Aidan, not just Wes, okay? That’ll be a good way to start to adjust to it, ’cause he’s got his shit locked down already.”
Trevor nodded. “I can do that.” For a second, he thought about saying something about why he hadn’t wanted to listen, about how the shame crawled up his spine. But if he did, then Lane would know, and he didn’t want Lane to look at him any differently than he was doing now.
“Ramsey’s game is gonna be on soon,” Lane pointed out. “We might as well turn it on, while we eat?”
“That late?” Trevor asked. He wasnotjealous that Lane had either looked up that info or had retained Nate telling him about it. He knew Ramsey was with Nate, and they were super fucking happy. But there was a part of him that wondered, still, if Lane had really wanted him, and was only settling for Trevor because he was around.
“They’re on the West Coast, I guess,” Lane said. “Nate was whining during the game about some kind of long road trip. They gotta go out there once a season or something. Hit all the Cali teams.”
“There’s more than one hockey team in Cali?”
“And I thoughtIwas clueless about hockey.” Lane chuckled under his breath and, grabbing his beer, made his way to the living room, slumping down on the couch. After turning on the TV, he navigated to the right game. He’d been right; it was starting in ten minutes.
Plenty of time for Trevor to go grab his sweatshirt from Lane’s bedroom. To try to transition back into their normal kind of evening. Lane was clearly trying to do it. Trevor should make an effort too.
The problem was that Trevor was beginning to wonder if he didn’twantto transition back to their normal kind of evening.
Maybe he’dlikedwaking up with Lane’s arm over him, warm and steady and firm. Not holding him down, butholdinghim.
But Trevor didn’t know how to ask for that. Instead, he grabbed his sweatshirt, detoured to the bathroom and, after pissing, gave himself a pep talk in the mirror that mostly consisted of,you can be normal, you can totally be cool.
When he returned back to the living room, he was pretty sure he could be chill. Normal.Ish.
But then he spotted Lane sitting in his regular spot on the couch, except now his arm was slung, easy and haphazardly, over the back. Like he was just waiting for Trevor to tuck into the empty spot that was right there, at his side.
Trevorwantedto, but they’d never done that before. And it was unclear exactly how far “experimentation” went in Lane’s book. The sexdefinitelycounted, but did cuddling count?
Was it an invitation or was it just coincidence?
Be normal, be cool.
“It’s weird that Ramsey’s got us all watching hockey now,” Trevor said, rounding the couch and settling not quite on the far end, but not quite close enough that the tips of Lane’s fingertips could touch his shoulder.
It was kind of a chickenshit move, but he was trying to be chill.
Lane shot him a bit of a baffled look but didn’t say anything about it. “Hockey’s cool. I wish I could beat people’s asses and only get two minutes for roughing.”
“If you were a hockey player, you’d spend your whole career in the fucking box,” Trevor said. It was exactly what he’d have said to Lane before.
Scoffing, Lane shot him a hot look. “That’s bullshit. I wouldn’t take stupid penalties. I’d only fight people who deserved it.”
“So like every player on the opposing team?” Trevor teased.
“What?” Lane exclaimed, but his eyes had lit up, literally sparkling. God, he looked so good like this. Trevor wanted to eat him up.
“It’s legit.” Trevor pushed a little harder and wasn’t even very surprised—but still smug—when an outraged noise escaped from Lane and he swung his body over, tackling Trevor to the couch.
They grappled for a moment, like the two brothers they’d never been, and then Lane slid a thigh between Trevor’s legs,hovering over him. Their gazes locked and Trevor froze, breath still billowing out of his lungs.
He didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they moved together. But then they were kissing, fiercely, like it was the natural conclusion of the flirting and then the fighting they’d been doing.
