“Yes.”
“I was asking our guest,” Reid goes on to say, his eyes lingering on me, waiting for my reply.
I shrug. “Got to give the kids what they want,” I say, and right there, that’s the flurry I love.
“You know you’re not that much older than us,” Benji says, fast-forwarding the game.
“I’m more mature than I look,” I reply.
“Sure you are,” he laughs, and then pauses the television right on a shot of me sticking out my tongue at Cosmo. “Wow, those camera guys can really zoom right in.”
“Okay, so maybe not all the time, I’m not,” I concede. He hits play again and we watch for a few minutes before Benji breaks the comfortable silence we’d settled into.
“How did you get him to do it?” Benji asks, and David pauses the screen again.
“What?” I ask, suddenly wondering how much Reid told his brothers about us.
“We thought he’d never do something like that,” David adds.
They can’t be talking about what we did last night. No way did he tell his brothers that we hooked up. I mean, I was close with the guys in the frat house, and some of them used to share stories, but Reid is like a dad to these two. That would just be weird.
“Ummm, I didn’t really have to convince him. Like, it was totally consensual. That’s a weird word. I just mean like . . . he was into it. No, that’s weirder.”
“Dude, are you okay?” Benji asks, and I rub the back of my neck with one hand, the air suddenly thick, sweat prickling the flushed skin on my face.
“Actually, can I use your bathroom?” I ask.
“Sure, second door on your left,” Benji replies, and as I walk away, I hear David’s voice.
“Maybe he blackmailed him into doing the trick play.”
Of course, they were asking about the trick play. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
I splash my face and wash my hands, the scent of orange, ginger, and lemongrass filling the tiny room as the soap lathers into a million tiny bubbles. It smells exactly like Reid. I check the bottle, and find it’s not just a hand wash, it’s an all-in-one body wash. I snap a shot of the label with my phone, determined to find where to buy some when I get home. Half the battle of leaving that hotel room was crawling out from under his scent. Now I’ll be able to smell him whenever I want. Okay, that even sounds weird to me.
I head out, but instead of returning to the boys, I decide to check if Reid wants a hand.
The narrow hallways are lined with photographs—many of the three boys when they were younger, usually with who I assume is their mother. She was beautiful. Her hair was the same rich golden-brown Reid has, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles is just like hers. I let my gaze linger on a photo of them cuddling up together on the same old leather couch in the living room. A Christmas tree is off to one side, and his younger brothers are by their feet opening gifts.
“That was a good Christmas,” Reid says, and I jolt.
“Sorry, I wasn’t snooping, I was just . . . I was going to come in to see if you wanted a hand, then I got . . . distracted, I guess.”
“That’s okay. I find myself slowing down through the hallways myself. Like the images of all the happy memories will somehow make it feel like they’re still here.”
“Do they?”
“Sometimes,” he says, as he reaches up and gently touches the photo I was just enamored by. “Sometimes it just makes me sad.”
“I’m sorry.”
He turns to me slowly, a softer half smile on his lips that barely hides the hurt in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” he says.
“It’s not. But you will be,” I reply. He brushes the side of my face with the back of his fingers, leaning in a little as he tucks my hair behind my ear. My body’s a bundle of nerves, electricity hummingthrough me from his touch to my core. He’s so close I can taste his sweet scent, and my mouth waters in response, urging me forward. But we’re in his home, not a hotel room, and his younger brothers are just down the hall watching hockey and waiting for their dinner. This is not the time or the place to do this. If his brothers don’t know about us, I’m not going to blow up his world just because I’ve never felt like this for anyone before. I can’t do that to him. He deserves better than that.
“We should check on dinner,” I say, stepping to the side.
