Page 32 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

He shrugs, chuckling as we step off. “Puck bunnies are wearing thin.”

“You seemed into her.”

“Is that why you were acting weird?”

“No. I wasn’t in the mood to be out, that’s all. You know I only go for you.”

We stop in front of our doors but we’re standing in the middle of the hall, very close together. His warm, licorice-scented breath fans across my cheeks as we search each other’s eyes.

“I like it when you come out.”

“I know.”

My gaze drops to his mouth, and I notice the shape of his lips for the first time. His upper lip has a deep dip, and I think that’s what people mean when they talk about Cupid’s bow. His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip and my eyes follow the movement. I find myself swaying slightly toward him.

“You want to come in and watch TV or something?” The tone of his voice makes my stomach flutter in a new and unfamiliar way, and something inside me warns me to tread carefully.

I’m getting weird about my best friend, and I need to pull it back before I freak him out.

“I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll just crash.”

Travis nods, his eyes roaming over my face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s thinking the same confusing thoughts I am.

Like, what it would be like to just lean in and taste his lips right now?

That thought is jolting, so I step back and laugh nervously. “Sleep tight.”

“Sweet dreams, Bozy.”

I hustle inside my apartment and lean against the closed door, taking several deep breaths. Something is happening with me, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.

SIXTEEN

SHOW

“Damn, something smells good.” Beau’s voice is a deep rumble, like a grizzly bear waking up from hibernation. I can practically hear him sniffing the air all the way to the kitchen.

My stomach does the little flutter that’s been happening more and more around Beau over the past few weeks, and I’m starting to think maybe it’s not a stomach flu. The thing is, I’m still not sure what the hell it is. A smile jumps to my face the second he ambles into the kitchen, looking like he’s fresh from a nap with messy hair and slightly wrinkled clothes. He still looks damn good though. Of course he does—it’s Beau.

“We haven’t had a cheat night in ages, so I figured we’ve earned one. Shepherd’s pie will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

He groans and my cock has some kind of Pavlovian response to the sound, twitching eagerly and stiffening against my thigh. I lean my elbows on the counter so he won’t notice the swell of my dick print in my gray sweatpants from one little happy, rumbly groan.

It’s not like it’s my fault. We’ve kept up our new “pre-game ritual” over the past few weeks, and apparently getting off while he moans and grunts a few feet away has trained my dick or something. Fuck if I know. All I know is that our chemistry on the ice has been amazing, so obviously we’re going to keep doing it.

“Shepherd’s pie is my favorite.” He wanders over to the stand mixer and uses his finger to scoop some of the mashed potatoes off of the mixing paddle like it’s frosting, shoving the glob into his mouth and humming happily again. “Oh man, did you use that chive cream cheese in these like my mom does?”

“I called her and had her walk me through the whole thing. I didn’t let her off the phone until I shoved that bad boy into the oven. She made me promise to text her later and tell her how it turns out.”

Beau laughs. “My mom likes you better than me.”

“Your mom loves you.”

“I know, but she likes you even better.” He laughs again.

My whole body flushes with a warm feeling. It’s not like I was lacking parental love or attention growing up or anything, but it’s nice to feel like I’m part of Beau’s family too.

“I heard Nilsson had a meeting with Coach this afternoon,” I say as I go over to the sink and start filling it with hot, soapy water to wash the dishes while we wait for our dinner to cook.