Page 11 of Scoring Slater
Joseph and Vince exchanged glances and then both nodded and Vince said, "Drop them off."
"Thanks, guys. I'll owe you one."
"More like two." Vince suggested, raising his glass for a sip. "You know, since there are two animals."
Celek's lips quirked into a smile and he shook his head. "Fine, two."
While his friends continued to make conversation without any input from him or Noah, Slater stared at the beer in front of him. Were they really done discussing it, or should he say something else to Noah about it? Something hard landed on his shoulder, startling him. He glanced at Leo's hand, resting there, and looked at his best friend on the team outside of Noah. "Yeah?"
Gray eyes searched his, and likely saw things Slater wanted to remain hidden. "You good?"
"Sure."
"You know where I am if you're not." With a squeeze, he let go and then raised his voice to address everyone at the table. "We should probably get going."
"You can stay." The words immediately tumbled from Slater's lips, without a glance at Noah to see if he agreed. There wasn't anything better than a full house, brimming with people and warmth and laughter. His teammates were his family.
But the guys were all standing and thanking him for dinner and before Slater could tell them not to bother, they’d set their cups in the sink and their bottles in the recycling bin.
"Thanks guys, I'll see you at practice tomorrow." He walked them through the hall to the front door, and frowned at Noah's absence.
Behind him, a door creaked, and he turned. Noah strode from his bedroom carrying a bag from the bookstore. "Here's my pick for the next book. I thought I'd take inspiration from Slater and choose something old that I read and liked. I read this my first year of college. It's a science fiction novel about an astronomer who gets transported to an alien planet that looks like earth."
Slater groaned at the book's size. He was supposed to get through that tome in a month's time? He had a better chance of scoring twenty goals that week. And considering it had taken half of the season for him to reach nine, that wasn't likely.
He took his copy of the book, bade his friends goodbye, and returned to the kitchen to rinse out the cups in the sink.
Noah came in and turned on the electric tea kettle. He bit his lip, made a pained sound and dragged his hand through his hair. "Do you need any help?"
"I've got it." He focused on the hot water swirling into the cups and then down the drain and not on the hot man a few feet away. They didn't speak as he continued his task and Noah waited by the kettle, his fingers drumming, the tea bag already in the mug, waiting on the water.
When he turned to load them into the dishwasher, Noah moved toward him. "I'll help. I feel stupid just standing here watching you."
Watching him? And thinking what? He didn't dare ask. They worked together in silence. Once the last item was rearranged to utilize every spare inch of space, he turned away to dry his hands. In the absence of their words, the kettle's whistle sounded as loud as a train.
Noah closed the dishwasher, hit the start button, then silenced the kettle. He poured the water and met Slater's gaze. "Tea?"
"Sure." Olive branch or just courtesy? Either way, he couldn't resist Noah, not even with the wound the man's earlier words had caused. "Earl Grey."
Noah readied the mug and Slater reached for the whiskey in the cabinet over the sink. At Noah's raised brow, he shrugged. "Just a splash."
"If you're doing that, you need to add lemon and honey too." He laid his hand on the center of Slater's chest, so earnest and beautiful, he took Slater's breath away. "Sit down. I'll do it."
His heartbeat thudded so hard Noah had to feel it. Desire pulsed with every beat. The heat of Noah's hand, the welcome weight of it over his heart, the way his lips parted and his eyes sparked, it was too much and not enough. Slater swallowed and raised a shaky hand to hold Noah's in place. "Noah."
Noah's gaze flicked from Slater's eyes to his lips, to their joined hands, then back again, and his hand flexed on Slater's chest. Slater drew in a sharp breath. Noah’s head tilted and leaned in the barest of inches. "Knoxie, I… I want…"
Noah shook himself and took a step back, then another, until his hand slipped away from Slater's grasp. "I'll let you finish in here. I need to go. I mean, I'm going to bed."
He grabbed his mug and walked from the room like burning coals lay under his feet.
Slater stood, watching him go, wondering if the alcohol he'd consumed earlier had clouded his vision, or if what he thought he'd seen in Noah's eyes was really there.
CHAPTER FOUR
Noah tossed his book onto the bed and got up to pace the room. No matter how many times he tried to read the words on the page, his thoughts kept going back to the previous evening, and Slater, and the kitchen, and how he'd almost lost control.
That couldn't happen.
