Page 136 of Hockey Bois
“Dude, you weren’t kidding, were you? You’re like a zombie right now.”
“I know,” Nick whined, though he was pleased Brady was on the same wavelength as him about the zombie thing. His work bag slid from his shoulder and hit the ground. Brady had disappeared into the kitchen, and despite the promise of food, beer, and a cute boy, Nick’s feet dragged along the floor.
“I thought for a second,” Brady said as he pulled down plates and cleared off space on the island, “that you were ghosting me. Which…” He made a face before his expression smoothed out. “Then I think you sleep-texted me last night something about my ass and skinny dipping in the rain, and I figured, y’know, you might not be all there right now.”
Nick’s mouth watered. Brady put two large pepperoni pieces on a plate and slid it over to Nick, who didn’t quite process what was said until his mouth was full of pizza. “I said what?”
“I asked if you were going to make it to tonight’s game, and I got a reply back at like 4 a.m. saying, in very poor English, that we’d missed our chance to skinny dip in the rain and my ass would look great in running shorts. So, thanks for that?” He was biting his lip to keep from laughing.
“…that wasn’t in a group chat, was it?”
“No, luckily—”
“Wait, there’s a game tonight?”
“I know you said you were out for the rest of the month, but yeah, there’s a game. There was a Facebook thing about it. Everyone was checking in to see if you’d survived the downpour because no one’dheard from you. Except me, I guess. Even Gail hadn’t heard anything through Terry, so I had to confirm you hadn’t drowned in Canada. I wasn’t actually 100% sure you were okay until the ass comment, though.”
Nick was very confused. This was the most non-number-related information that he’d gotten since he’d come back from the tournament. Functioning at a level where he was capable of words or conversations was a stretch, but as the pizza settled in his stomach he was starting to piece things together.
“But if there’s a game,” he said slowly, “why are youhere? Shouldn’t you be playing?”
Brady raised an eyebrow and gave him A Look like he was particularly stupid. Nick sat there, patiently waiting for an answer.
“I’m here to see you?” he said like it was obvious.
“Oh,” Nick said quietly and continued to nibble on his pizza while suppressing a pleased smile. He probably didn’t do a good job. “That’s nice. I like that.”
“Beer and a movie, or what?” Brady asked.
“Yeah. I could do some beer. I’ll probably fall asleep during the movie. Nothing personal, I just…”
“…aren’t an actual human being right now, just an accountant in need of a recharge? Yeah, got that. You got a TV in your room or we sticking to the living room?”
Nick gulped. “I got one in my room,” he said with what was hopefully his regular voice and not a squeaky, nervous version. “This you checking up on me or did you actually come over to Netflix and Chill?”
Brady popped open a beer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Can’t it be both?”
“Both is good. Very good. Eat first. I don’t want to find greasy, old pizza I’ve accidentally lost in my sheets a few weeks from now when my brain knows how to brain again.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Nick’s last remaining braincell fizzled out. Did Brady just…? Forget hallucinating, he haddefinitelydied and gone to heaven.
And he could not be happier about it.
*
Nick was fully prepared to spend another weekend at the office to finish things up, but his boss wouldn’t let him. He’d never batted an eye when Nick submitted the paperwork for overtime pay, but when Nick came in on Friday with bags under his eyes and could barely grunt his way through small talk, his boss nixed the idea.
“Get some sleep, kid,” he said after giving Nick a concerned once-over. “Go to a movie. Go to a bar. Go to brunch. I don’t care where you go, but go there and don’t do any work until Monday.”
For good measure, he took Nick’s work laptop away and gave it to one of the secretaries for safe keeping.
Which was fine, Nick told himself. He didn’tneedto work on the weekend to catch up. He could enjoy time with his teammate-turned-friend-turned-fuck-buddy-turned-sort-of-boyfriend. Why work when he could worry about their relationship?
“You’re twitching a lot,” Brady said at dinner. He pointed his chopsticks at Nick accusingly. “Your boss said don’t work this weekend, so don’t work. I’ll wrestle your phone from your hands if you try it.”
“You think saying you’ll wrestle me is a threat and not a temptation?”
