Page 44 of Drop the Gloves
“Oh my God,” he yelled at himself, startling poor Sophia.“Shut up and leave me alone!”
Sophia looked offended, so he stooped to pick her up.She mewed but allowed the indignity once he started petting her.
“Sorry, sweetheart.Not you.I’m the problem here, per usual.”
So working out was no bueno, sex would only provide temporary relief until it made things messier, which left...
“Heyyy, bestie,” Riley said when Dalton picked up the phone.“You wanna go out for drinks?”
“On Halloween?”Dalton sounded suspicious.“Why?”
“Because we’re too old to go trick-or-treating.I dunno, man, why not?”Sensing he needed to pull out the big guns, he said, “I hear there’s a place that does spiked milkshakes.”
There was a brief pause.“Come pick me up in thirty?”
The burger place was a few minutes away from Riley’s apartment building, nestled in the back of a shopping center.He’d found it by accident when he was getting groceries and had been keeping it in his back pocket for a hangout with Abernathy, but he might need to wait on that a bit.
You’re not supposed to be thinking about him.
Oh yeah.Whoops.
Dalton was nice.Riley liked him because he was young and energetic and didn’t spend his time talking about kids and partners and lawn care like the other guys Riley’s age.They could just goof off together, laughing about teammates, talking shit about other teams, and complaining about the coaches.
“They’re not so bad though,” Dalton said through hiccups.He’d chugged two milkshakes that seemed more booze than milk, and he’d convinced Riley to do a few shots earlier.Dalton was leaning precariously on his bar stool; Riley was prepared to catch him if need be.“They’ve been great, giving me a chance.Giving Abs one too, even though we’re young.I hope they re-sign me at the end of the season like they did with Abs.”
“I’m sure they will.”Riley wasn’t drunk, per se, but he was pleasantly buzzed and looser-lipped than usual, which was saying a lot since he wasn’t great about shutting up in general.“Hey, what’s Abs’ story?”
“Whadduya mean?”Dalton frowned.It made him look young.
Riley shrugged.He wasn’t stupid enough to ask what he really wanted to know—was Evan Abernathy less straight than he appeared and would he maybe be interested in a guy like Riley?—because that was a bit much to unload on a third party.Especially since he had dried come in his shorts at home that suggested the answer to both was a resounding yes.So he figured if hewas vague, maybe Dalton would offer something.
“He’s been freaking out a bit this season, I think,” Dalton said after some thought.Riley tensed, worried he was the cause, but then Dalton said, “He’s too nice, and he’s feeling pressured to play rougher.”
Riley nodded.“Yeah, I got that impression.He always been so nice?”
“He’s Canadian,” Dalton said with a dismissive wave and an over-the-top eye roll.“I could spit on him, and he’d apologize.”
“Don’t spit on him,” Riley said, his fists clenching at his side.
“Duh,” Dalton said.“Being mean to Abs would be like being mean to a puppy.A really big puppy.Like a Saint Bernard or something.He’s my bro.We were roomies last season.Kinda miss him.He’s way easier to room with than”—Dalton cringed—“Winnie.That fucker snores so damned loud and leaves his clothes all over the place?—”
“But Abs is doing okay?”Riley interrupted, because he couldn’t give a flying fuck about Jacob Winchester right now.Respectfully.
Dalton quirked his head, and Riley held his breath.Fuck, had he pushed too much?Was it suspicious that he kept asking about Ev—Abernathy?But Dalton took a sip of his milkshake and then said, “Yeah, I think so.He’s only asked to go mini-golfing once, so he must be okay.I was a little worried when he invited me a few weeks ago.I’m glad you could go with him.My stupid truck.”He said that last part with disgust, though Riley had noted he’d gotten the old junker repaired, so he couldn’t be that upset with it.
“What’s with the mini-golf?”
“That’s code for Abs is having a hockey crisis and needs to relax.”
“I thought he just liked it.”Riley reconsidered their outing to the mini-golf place downtown.Abernathy had seemed into it, but he had the same intensity with hockey, so Riley hadn’t thought much of it.
Note to self: take Abernathy mini-golfing.Help him relax the fuck out.
“Oh, he does, but it’s his yoga or meditation or whatever.He hasn’t asked to go again, so I think he’s leveled off.He usually goes through phases throughout the season.Stressed at the beginning, mellows off midway through, goes through it again close to playoffs.”He raised his empty milkshake glass to the bartender, a dopey grin on his face, so Riley reached out and put a hand over his mouth.
“He’ll have a regular chocolate milkshake.No booze,” Riley said.He did a quick self-check and found his buzz was fading too fast.“I’ll have a rum and coke, please.”Then he took his hand off Dalton’s mouth and asked, “What does he do if he’s having a non-hockey crisis?”
Dalton worked his jaw and stared blankly at Riley.“Whadduya mean?”
