Page 40 of Scoring Slater
Slater wrapped his arm around Noah's shoulders and kissed him on the temple. "The shop opened last month. I found it last night when I was searching more alternate routes. Let’s get a drink."
He took his time perusing the menu before settling on a tea with rose hips and hibiscus flowers. Slater chose a chai latte with extra spice.
They had the shop to themselves and sat next to each other on the cushioned bench. The sole worker behind the counter nodded at them and then slipped through swinging wooden doors to another room.
Noah wrapped his hands around the thick white mug and sipped the sweet and tangy brew. Deep breaths and slow sips drained the tension remaining in his muscles. He stretched across the bench to examine a list posted near the counter of suggested teas to pair when reading classic novels, then turned toward Slater wondering which tea he'd suggest for his comic books.
Slater had his phone out, and a photo of their cups—imprinted with the shop's name—on his screen. His thumbs typed out the captiontea for two. He'd also tagged the shop's account.
Alarm bells pealed in Noah's head. He grabbed onto Slater's arm, jostling the phone. "What are you doing? Don't post that."
Slater jerked his arm away, glaring. "Why?"
"Because I like this place. I want to be able to come back."
"You're paranoid."
"Am I?" Noah thrust his own phone at Slater. "Just tap on that alert I set up for my name. Look at all of the photos we've been tagged in, photos people took without our knowledge. There are pictures of us in the airport, driving home from practice, at the grocery store, and picking up take out. Videos of me at the library and us at the comic book store. I feel like I can't leave the apartment unless I'm wearing a disguise. I'm not being paranoid. I'm trying to preserve some privacy."
Slater's gaze bounced around the room, then he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "The fans care about us. They're excited when they see us."
"So that makes it okay?" He drummed his fingers against the mug as his agitation grew. "This surveillance-level stuff never bothers you?"
"Honestly? It only bothers me when it bothers you."
That comment both warmed and frustrated the hell out of him. "My life is my life. I don't want to live stream it for the world."
Slater's head tilted to the side and his lips pressed into a line. He tapped his phone. "And you think I do."
"I think posting as frequently and sharing as much as you do feeds something in you."
Leaning away from Noah, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you a psychologist now?"
Every retort that popped into his head would only result in them hurling insults. He chose to ignore it. "I get that you love the attention, but I hate it. It's steadily increased since I got here in August. The auction made it worse, and it's increased a ton since that channel shared our picture. You telling them I'm not going to be involved hasn't made any difference."
"If it bugs you so much, you should turn off the alert."
"I can't. I need to know."
"Why?"
Restless energy filled his limbs. Noah surged out of his seat. "Because… I want to feel safe, okay? To know what I'm up against. And this whole situation doesn't inspire that feeling."
"I want you to feel safe." Slater stood and drained his tea. "But you can't live your life in a fortress of solitude."
"I'd prefer that to a fish bowl existence." He set his empty cup on the counter.
They stepped outside. More cars had filled the lot, and a large group of people walked toward the shop. Slater reached for his hand, but Noah pulled away. There were too many eyes on them. He shoved his hands deep inside his coat pockets as he trudged to the car.
Maybe it was time for him to admit that he wasn't right for Slater. They wanted different things. Had different needs. Maybe it was time for him to stop kidding himself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Slater followed the line of teammates boarding the plane, wishing they'd move faster. Frigid air swept across the tarmac, stealing his breath. At the foot of the stairs, a member of the team's social media staff recorded the boarding. Some of the players waved, some didn't. Only Noah raised his travel bag to block his face from the camera. Drumming up a smile, Slater waved as he passed. The fans would expect it, and he couldn't let them down.
The road trip to Columbus, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia had the last two games scheduled on back-to-back nights. Thankfully, all of the flights were short. Less time for him and his bestie, who was also his seat mate, to be stuck in seven layers of awkwardness.
The vibe had been off for a while. Their talk at the tea shop a few days earlier left him feeling even more unsettled. Noah wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but Slater hadn't realized the level of discomfort. He shuffled forward, keeping his gaze on the dark head in front of him. There was an ache in his chest, an emptiness in his stomach, a sense of foreboding that only grew worse with each passing day.
