Page 29 of Two Guys One Puck
I laugh. “I don’t have to bribe you with a room to fuck you. I just have to beat your ass on the ice, sweetheart.”
“Fuck you.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Fine.” He gets his bag from the bell check, and we ride the elevator in silence.
I open the door and hold it for him.
He steps into the space tentatively but stops. “There’s only one fucking bed.”
“And?”
“Where did you expect me to sleep?”
“Is a king sized. I think you’ll be okay.” I knock our shoulders as I shove past him.
“Why don’t you have two queens like everyone else?”
“I like a lot of space when I sleep so I can stretch out.” I meet his gaze, not sure what he’ll do. Seaborn is a bit like a flighty bird off the ice.
“We’re just going to share a bed.” His reluctance amuses me.
“Is not that deep.” I kick off my shoes and pull my shirt off, ducking into the bathroom and knowing his eyes will be on me. “Live with it or let them pay for your room.”
TEN
SEABORN
Ktytor pulls his shirt off revealing a chain around his neck I hadn’t noticed before. It has some kind of medal on it. Like one of those religious ones catholics wear. I can’t make it out before he heads into the bathroom. He doesn’t bother to close the door or nothing to take a piss.
Holy shit. I force myself to go deeper into the room and not bitch out. It’s only a couple of nights. I’m straight, and I’m not sure I’m even attracted to him. I have no idea why punching each other makes us do what we did, but he’s a dick who pisses me off. I shouldn’t be at any risk of touching him like this. We have a truce.
I toss my bag on the chair in the corner and turn in time to find Ktytor coming out of the bathroom. “How are we playing this in the morning?”
“What?” I try not to look at his bare chest, but it’s hard.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to be seen leaving my room. So are you leaving early or what?”
I hadn’t even thought of that. “I’ll leave early since you’re being nice enough to let me stay.”
“Cool.” He’s being cold. Or maybe I’m reading into it.
It’s just three nights. It’s not a big deal. I could sleep on the floor for three nights. I shoot a quick text to my aunt, asking her to feed my cat and telling her I won’t be home until Sunday.
I toss my phone on the side table and dig through my bag for a pair of shorts. I take those to the bathroom and close the door—no way I’m going to leave it open like he did. I piss and splash some water on my face, then change into the shorts and look in the mirror.
Do I take my shirt off? Do I leave it on? I’ve never had a second thought about sharing a room with a dude. I’ve been to hockey camps and clinics my whole life and shared a ton of rooms to save money.
Why is this one the issue?
But I fucking know why.
It’s sitting in the pit of my stomach like a stone.
“You gonna sleep in the tub, pretty boy?”
I throw open the door, finding him leaning against the wall opposite. “Am I not allowed to wash my face in private?”
