Page 89 of Drop the Gloves
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Practice was deemedacceptable by the coaches, and the team cheered at having curfew moved to midnight.If they played like shit tomorrow, it’d come back to bite them in the ass, as Lawson sternly reminded them.
“Best fucking behavior,” Lawson warned with one breath, then with the next asked, “Who wants to go do shots at that bar we hit up last year?”
Evan jerked off in the shower before his dinnerdatewith Barczyk to ease the tension.He laid out his travel clothes, glad that Riley had given him the warning before leaving (and doubly glad he had heeded it).When they traveled, he typically packed a suit or two for game days, workout clothes, and maybe a henley or pair of jeans in the winter.That’s all that hockey players wore most of the time: league-mandated fancy suits, and team-branded sports apparel.
He’d have been embarrassed as hell wearing a suit to dinner with Riley (nothing said date more than a fucking suit), and he was glad he’d brought a pair of khakis and a sweater.Of course, he’d neglected a jacket besides the nice peacoat he wore when they traveled, and he didn’t have the confidence to pull that off without the accompanying formal attire.Was his Riveters hoodie okay, or should he be a weirdo and use his suit jacket?Could he borrow something?Who dressed nicely on the Riveters and might’ve brought a blazer?How would he explain what he needed it for?Shit shit shit?—
A knock on his door ended his internal spiral.He took one last look in the mirror, straightened out a wrinkle in the pants (crap!He should’ve ironed them), before opening the door.
“Hey, our Uber is almost here.Ready?”
Riley was wearing faded jeans that were tight around his thighs but loose everywhere else, a belt with a ridiculously big buckle, and a black polo with the collar popped and his gold chain peeking out from the low V where all three buttons were left undone.Evan’s eyes locked in on that bare skin, the slight hint of chest hair, before dragging his attention back to Riley’s face.His very amused face.
“Ready.Just gotta grab my—“ Evan hesitated, looked to Riley for a clue and saw he had no coat or hoodie or anything with him, and flipped a coin in his head.“Hoodie,” he settled on, but Barczyk had slung an arm around Evan’s shoulders.
“It’s pretty warm out,” Riley said.“We’ll be in the car and the restaurant.I don’t think you need anything.”Without waiting for Evan to agree, he pulled him out of the hotel room and down the hallway, Evan’s door clicking shut behind them and echoing in the empty hall.
Whenever Evan worried things between him and Riley would get awkward (and there’d been a lot of opportunities for it), Riley rescued him.He chatted up the Uber driver on the way, getting into an argument about the Rockies and the Red Sox that required nothing of Evan except his presence.When they were led to a small table toward back of a fancy but tiny restaurant, Riley gushed about the place to the hostess and got them through the server’s spiel about the overly complicated menu, and then they were alone, and there was no one to rescue Evan from having to acknowledge he was maybe on a date with the guy he was having sex with.
...which honestly didn’t seem like a problem at all when he worded it like that.
“You want a beer?”Riley offered.“You look like you could use a beer.”
Evan nodded.“Just one.”
“That’s usually how they come.One at a time.”Riley went through the menu and ordered them a couple of beers and a plate of nachos, then appraised Evan with a thoroughness that made him squirm in his seat.“You like spicy food?”
The question came out of left field, having nothing to do with any of the thoughts buzzing through Evan’s head.He had to remind himself they were about to get dinner, so the question made perfect sense.
“Not really,” he said.“Didn’t have a lot of it growing up and never got a taste for it.”
“Guessing there aren’t many Mexican places in Peterborough.”
Evan shook his head grimly.“We don’t even have a Chipotle.”Riley’s chuckle shouldn’t have done things to him, but it did.
“They got some decent places in Pittsburgh, though.Chipotles galore.Some decent Tex-Mex places.You never branched out?”
“You make it sound like I’ve never eaten a taco before.”
“Have you?”Riley cackled when Evan tried to kick him under the table but missed.“I’m just trying to figure out what we should order at this Mexican restaurant in New fucking Mexico, or if you’re gonna be stuck with house salsa and plain chips.”
This time his foot connected, and he enjoyed Riley hissing in pain as the server dropped off their beers and nachos.Riley ordered for them, dishes Evan had never heard of like mole poblano and posole.
“I’m putting a lot of faith in you,” Evan said.
Riley clinked his beer bottle against Evan’s and took a long sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow.Jackass.
“Have I ever steered you wrong before?”He winked and then said, “You were drafted by Pittsburgh, right?”
This was another non sequitur, and it hit him as hard as the question about spicy food.What was Riley doing?
“Yeah,” he said, suspicion leaking into his voice.
“You like the city?Seems like a good fit for you.”
“I like it,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek.On the one hand, this was a topic where he could actually contribute; on the other, the abrupt shift in conversation left him uneasy.“I never thought I’d end up there, but I’m really glad they drafted me.”
