Page 209 of Puck Me Back to Life

Instead, he sighs. “I've got it.”

He carries the bag into the closet himself.

Interesting.

Twenty minutes later, he's watching the third period of the game. I casually wander into the living room and drop onto his side of the couch.

His spot.

The one closest to the armrest. The one he always sits in.

Ash walks back in carrying two glasses of wine. He stops. “You're in my seat.”

I look up innocently. “Oh.”

Silence.

He smiles. “Move.”

“No.”

His eyebrow lifts. “No?”

“I like this seat.”

“It has my ass print in it.”

“It fits me too.”

For a second, I think he's finally going to argue. Instead, he lets out a long breath. Then sits on the opposite end of the couch. Another point for Sonia.

We watch hockey in relative silence. At least, Ash watches hockey.

I mostly watch him.

Every now and then he mutters something about defensive coverage or a blown breakout.

I nod like I'm listening.

Eventually he disappears into the kitchen. When he comes back, he hands me a fresh glass of wine before sitting down beside me. I take a sip. It's good.

Better than the cheap stuff I usually buy.

Ash gets distracted by a replay on television.

Without thinking— Or perhaps thinking very deliberately— I finish my own glass.

Then I reach over, pick up his, and drink the rest of it too. Ash looks down. Then at the now-empty glass in my hand. Then very slowly back at me.

“Kai.”

I smile. “What?”

“You drank my wine.”

“You weren't drinking it.”

He makes a shocked face. “I most definitely was!”