Page 107 of The Frathole
“I’m heading out tonight,” Dax interjects. “Not planning to be back until late.”
I look between them. “Did you guys talk about this already?”
Ryan wears a guilty expression, the sort he used to have when he violated some rule at Alpha Theta Mu. For a change, I’m both impressed and relieved. The idea of a night in with him, doing something more than watching TV or playing games, sounds nice. And very us.
Dax mouths, “Go on the date. You should do it. He’s cute,” then winks, making me laugh.
“What do you say?” Ryan asks. “A fun night in with your favorite guy?”
29
Ryan
It’s like rightbefore a big game—not the kind I’m nervous about, but the one where I feel like we’re about to kill it. Excitement mixed with the dopamine rush…and this buzz. I never felt it outside of football until I started seeing Mart, and it’s really going now that he agreed to have a date night with me.
When we finish at the build, I swing by the store and grab some stuff for us to make chicken parmesan. By the time I get back to Dax’s place, Marty’s already showered up. I put the ingredients in the fridge before hopping in the shower, and once I’m done, I head into the kitchen in only my towel.
The apartment is a one-bedroom with an open-design kitchen, so I can see Mart in the living area, chilling on the couch, which we fold out into a bed at night. As he reads a book, I think about how nice it is seeing him enjoy more leisure reading since school let out—not just with his head in a textbook to study.
As I approach him, he peeks up at me.
“Hey,honey,” I say before crouching down and giving him the kiss I’ve earned after a hard day’s work. He rests his hand on my shoulder, and I grit my teeth at the sting of his touch, jerking back. “Well, you weren’t wrong about my shoulders. Put some lotion on after my shower. Hoping that will help.”
“I should have applied more sunscreen sooner.”
“Not sure you can blame yourself for the fact thatIwasn’twearing enough sunscreen. And if you hadn’t been around, it probably would have been even worse.”
“I knew you shouldn’t have been shirtless on that roof.”
“Just ’cause you nailed me down doesn’t mean you can deprive everyone of the view.”
He issues his signature glare. “Deprive everyone of the view? Wow. Aren’t you obnoxious?”
“Clearly, you’re attracted to obnoxious.”
His lips curl upward. He can’t deny it any more than he can deny me. “I guess that is pretty damn clear,” he says.
And now we’re both smiling.
I give him another kiss. We enjoy each other’s tongues for a bit before I pry away, grabbing my duffel bag for some clothes, and as I’m pulling on a pair of jeans, he says, “Okay, so how are we doing this?”
“Not sure. I’m kind of a master chef from meal prepping for football, so I’ve never had to consider making it with anyone else.”
I’m about to put on a shirt when he says, “No, no. You should let your shoulders heal some.”
I see the panic in his expression—as if the mild irritation I might’ve felt when I threw my shirt back on would’ve been too much for a guy who’s been at the bottom of more than a few dogpiles on the field. Although, that worry written all over his face gives me these little tingling sensations at the back of my neck.
“You can admit you want me shirtless when I’m cooking for you,” I joke.
He doesn’t fight his smile this time, and while he follows me into the kitchen, he says, “You know I can’t cook for shit, right?”
“Eh, I figured as much.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Relax. It’s only chicken parmesan. How hard can that be, on a scale of flaccid to what I know that thing can get?” I pat his crotch,earning an eye roll. “You should save those eye rolls for when we get started. Have a feeling there’ll be plenty. So we have the main dish, and I got some stuff for a salad.”
“Andwe’re making salad? Wow. You have some high expectations for me.”
