Page 101 of Penalty Zone

Austin groans, and I don’t move. I’ll take his lead on this and not push him to define what happened last night. But holy hell, last night was incredible.

“What the fuck?” he whispers.

This isn’t a good start to the morning. I crack an eye open, and the sun’s as blinding as if our balcony sits on the edge of the world. It must be afternoon.

Austin subtly extracts himself from me, creeping around the room. I know him, and if I don’t say something, he’ll sneak out without a word.

I mumble, “Morning,” and stretch.

“Oh hey,” he says with surprise, as if he doesn’t know I’m lying in his bed. When I turn, he covers his junk.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a comment that it’s too late to hide his dick from me, but I’m not that mean. And it’s probably irrelevant to point out that since we played hockey together for years, I’ve seen his dick more than any other on the planet besides my own.

He’s turning beet red and opening and closing his mouth. Austin rarely gets flustered, but he’s about to have a meltdown.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s fine.” I sit up. His demeanor was so different last night when he demanded I strip naked. That was so fucking sexy.

“That didn’t happen.” He points to the bed where I’m still very real and very naked.

“Okay.” I hold my hands up as if I mean him no harm. As if he’s not my best friend. As if we haven’t lived together for years. As if he hasn’t helped me through the worst time in my life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he barks and stalks to the bathroom to wrap a towel around his waist.

He’s clearly uncomfortable with what happened last night and must be confused because I’m dumbfounded. As a bi man, I’ve never once thought of Austin in a sexual way. He was my friend first, and straight.

Never once did I think of us as a couple, no matter how much the team teased us. We’re best friends. Period. End of story.

Except now I know how he kisses. How his tongue plunged into my mouth without hesitation. How all his muscles felt flexing over me as our cocks slid together. What my name sounded like in his mouth when he came.

I shake my head. Those thoughts can be dealt with after Austin gets through his freak-out. His arms brace against the sink, and his head’s hanging down. Part of this is the amount of alcohol we drank last night. He’s not a big drinker, and one is his limit in season. Between the shots and bottle service, he probably drank more last night than all of last year.

We can’t blame the alcohol; it was more than that.

Before I slip out of bed naked and make the situation worse, I peer over the side and find his boxers. Austin had them on his bed as if he laid them out to sleep in before we went out last night. I tug them on, not thinking too much about it. We’ve had plenty of laundry mix-ups and wear each other’s clothes all the time.

Not underwear but…desperate times.

His blue eyes are impossibly round when he takes me in. “You’re wearing my… Those are mine,” he accuses.

“I thought this conversation would require clothes.” I bend down to find out that the bed is on a platform, and there’s no way clothes could get under there.

Facing his confusion and anger hurts me, and I take a few deep breaths to prolong the inevitable.

“I don’t understand. I’m sorry.” His expression has changed to broken.

“Ace,” I say and immediately regret it. Ace is his team nickname, but he’s Austin to me and calling him Ace distances me from him. I want to make this better, but I’m not sure what the problem is. We stand silently staring at each other. Usually, I can read him like a map, but there’s so much turmoil, it’s like someone threw the map in a food processor.

His phone alarm goes off, and neither of us moves.

“Gray.” His voice cracks, and I step toward him to comfort my best friend, but he holds his hand up and shakes his head. “Fuck.” He palms his head with both hands, and I’m not sure if it’s from the movement or the situation. “I need my phone.”

That I can do.

I follow the sound and tear the pillows off the bed. The alarm is getting louder, but I don’t see it. “Maybe it’s under the mattress,” I mutter and lift it up.

Austin’s at my side, and I feel every inch of him like he’s the sun radiating heat. His ragged breathing rasps in my ear. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s gotta be between the wall and the platform.” Except it’s not there. “You look.” I push the mattress to the side and step out of his way.

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