Page 59 of Pucked Up

I frowned. “Wrap what up?” He had just made it clear the conversation was done.

Turning slightly, he lifted a brow. “Your dick, Coach.”

“I—”Oh. My face flamed, but I cleared my throat and nodded. “I always do.”

He stared at me a moment longer, then let himself out, closing the door firmly behind him. Sagging back into my chair, I felt more confused than ever. What the hell did this mean? How did Boden actually feel, considering he was avoiding me like the plague?

And, most importantly, what was I supposed to do about it?

I had zero time to think. It felt like between one breath and the next, I was packing my suitcase and heading over in a Lyft to pick Micah up for the station. I didn’t know him well. We’d spoken over the phone but never in person, so I was startled to see up close just how much he looked like his brother.

They must have been twins. Jonah had a collection of tattoos on his arms, but other than that, they shared the same haircut, same face, same everything. The only real stark difference was that Jonah wore prosthetic eyes—often of varying colors and designs—and Micah did not.

And it seemed obvious he never had with the way his eye sockets were very small, and his thick, dark lashes were almost like two small commas. He had the same smile as Jonah though, and he stuck his hand out toward me after he was buckled in.

“So. Blind date with a blind guy, eh?”

Was this a date? “Euh…”

“Breathe, dude. I’ve been warned off you like sixteen times by literally everyone I know. I’m not going to hit on you.”

“I didn’t realize that was an actual thing,” I confessed. Journey and Ben had warned me about him, but I didn’t think they were being completely serious.

Micah sighed as he settled back against the seat and twisted his folded cane between his fingers like he was nervous. “Yeah. I’m kind of slutty.”

“Uhh…”

“Not like slutty is a bad thing though. You know? Like own it. Embrace it. Get your rocks off in safe, sane, consensual ways.” He turned his face toward me again. “You a Dom?”

I choked on my tongue. “A Dom?”

“Mm. I feel like a French Dom would be amazing. Christ, could you imagine?” He cleared his throat, then did a terrible approximation of my accent. He sounded like the chef fromThe Little Mermaid. “Get on yair knees, boy. Zis is going to huuuurt.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Mm, no. You don’t. I’m not an accent guy. I am a guy who does like to get on his knees, but I’m not super into the whole pain thing. Well, that’s a lie. I play hockey, so I do like to get knocked around a little. But not by the guy who’s railing me.”

“Euh. Right.”

He stopped. “This is how I either get punched or fucked, by the way. I don’t know when to shut up. But it’s nice to meet you, Hughie.”

“Hugo.”

“I know.” He smiled and didn’t correct himself. “How long ’til the station?”

It was a while. A very long, possibly painful while. Before I could answer, he shrugged and reached over, slapping my thigh with accuracy that shouldn’t surprise me, considering he was a hockey goalie.

“Do me a favor? Wake me up when we get there. I didn’t sleep for shit. I met this dude on Grindr, and I let him help me work out my anxiety, and yeah. I’mfucking beat. Just shake me until I get annoyed. Sighted people never know when I’m actually up unless I say something.”

I stared for a second, then said, “Sweet dreams,” because what the fuck else was I supposed to say to all of that.

God help me, it was going to be a long, strange, probably eventful weekend.

Micah woke himself up about twenty minutes before the Lyft pulled into the drop-off section of the station. He seemed very antsy, which I had a feeling was his usual state of being. But I also had a feeling he normally hid it better.

“Is it crowded? I’m not a super-big fan of crowds. People get weird, and I just…” He stopped. “Have you guided a blind man before?”

“I have not. But if you give me instructions, I can do it.”

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