“Oh no you don’t,” Jankowski tsks. “You live with Dee now. You get her all the time. You can come out to drink with us for one night.”
Ian’s ears flush red, apparent by the way his hair is slicked back with sweat. “It’s not about that.”
“Oh, it absolutely is,” Sanchez laughs. “Just bring her with, yeah?”
“Abby rode with us,” he says.
My stomach does something funny as I try not to think about the outline of wet nipples and holding her too close. I can’t help but wonder what she thought of the game. I know she isn’t an uber fan when it comes to hockey, but the idea of her watching me sitting there benched and useless makes my throat feel all tight.
Rankin smacks me on the shoulder—the good one, thankfully. “You coming?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep the melancholy out of my tone. “I was kind of thinking of heading home too.”
“Oh no,” Ian scoffs. “If I’m coming, you’re coming.”
“Always the coming with you.” Ian shoots me an unimpressed look, and I chuckle as I point out, “No one’s making you go.”
Jankowski raises his hand. “I am fully prepared to make both of you. Stop being squares.”
“Who says ‘squares’ anymore?” Rankin laughs.
“Your mom when I saw her last,” Jankowski says with a smug grin.
Rankin shoots to his feet, his eyes narrowing. “Watch it, dick.”
“Settle down, baby boy,” Jankowski laughs. “I’m kidding.”
Ian taps his knee against mine after he manages to shrug out of his pads, looking at me expectantly. “So, you’re coming, right?”
I don’t want to make it obvious that I’m sulking—that I’m sitting here thinking about how we were one point away from losing and it could have been entirely my fault—and I’m sure that if I don’t go tonight, everyone will know something is up. The last thing I need is for any of them to start feelingsorryfor me. If they don’t already.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “I can go for a little while.”
“Great,” Ian says, clapping me on the back. “I’ll text the girls.”
The girls.
My stomach does that funny thing again at the thought of seeing Abby so soon, which is weird, really, because we live together. Seeing each other is sort of inevitable.
And yet I’m nervous just the same.
The bar is crowded andloud when we all pile in, and there’s the brief inevitability of being recognized by a few fans who cheer and crowd around to socialize and ask for autographs, and usually—I’m all over that shit. I sort of live for the praise and thenotoriety. Tonight though? Tonight I’m kind of wishing I’d just gone home. How many of these fans saw me benched tonight? How many of them are wondering why the fuck I keep ending up on the sidelines?
I feel a hand at my elbow, looking down to see Dee smiling up at me. “Want to grab a table?”
“Sure,” I say with a nod. “Somewhere in the corner. I’m kind of feeling low-key tonight.”
“Jack Baker feeling low-key,” Dee laughs. “Alert the media.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t be on for youallthe time. I’d have to start charging.”
I notice Abby standing behind her, her eyes meeting mine over the small crowd as she gives me a nod and a small smile. There’s commiseration in that smile—like she’s remembering last night too. Like we’ve truly ventured into some sort of secret friend status.
Even if my dick is very confused still about wet nipples.
I manage to work my way through the throngs of bargoers to push toward a booth in the corner, sliding into the circle bench as Dee slides in next to me, saving a spot for Ian to her right. This means that Abby has to climb in on the other side, which puts her sitting right next to me. I can feel the warmth of her through the small gap between us, and it has my mind wandering back to last night again, to when she was wrapped up in my arms and laughing about a stupid key chain I still can’t believe I bought her.
“Ian’s going to be held up for a bit,” Dee notes, watching him chat with a few fans. She eyes me. “I can’t believe you aren’t over there basking in it.”
