Page 68 of Hockey Bois
I’ve got lunch from 12-1 but I could probably answer after that
They normally communicated via text or in person, and Nick was so damn curious what Brady would think warranted an actual telephone call that he couldn’t fathom putting it off until later.
His pretense loaded into the copier, the first few pages coming out all right. Nick leaned against the windowsill and hit the “Call” button next to Brady’s name for the first time ever.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Nicki—”
“Oh, hey, what’s up?” There was rustling on the other end; voices hushed until they grew so quiet that Nick imagined Brady excusing himself from a conversation.
“Uh, you said to call…?” Was the message for someone else? Damn, he should’ve known better.
“Right right. So you got a room for the tournament yet? I thought maybe you’d like to, uh… split a room?”
Nick stood there, the cacophony of the decade-old copier the only sound besides his heart pounding in his chest.
“I know that like, uh… Mags and GG are sharing a room. And I think Lexi and Young Greg are? And I thought… I thought, maybe… If you already have a room or would prefer not to—” Brady said in a rush, and Nick’s brain finally kicked back into gear.
“No! I mean, yes! Yes, that would be great! I… I hadn’t booked a room yet.”
“Grea—! Uh, cool. I’m booking stuff after work so I can, um… get you the address and all that later today.”
“Cool,” Nick agreed. He hadn’t heard Brady so nervous before. Or so childishly pleased at an answer. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Never thought to ask you about it. Figured you might be staying at your family’s place or something.”
“Maybe if it were in Mt. Lebanon, it’d be worth it. We’ll be too tired and too far for me to want to drive into the city after a day of seeding games, then wake up at the ass crack of dawn to drive back for the actual tournament.”
“Mt. Lebanon?” he repeated, baffled.
“I have to know Mt. Vernon, but you don’t have to know Mt. Lebanon?”
“Youlivehere!”
“Ugh, fine. So I’ll book the room. I won’t be able to get up there before Saturday morning; do you need the room Friday night?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m not used to a drive like that, I’d rather already be settled in.”
“Gotcha. Text you later. See ya then if not sooner.”
“Bye.”
Nick hung up. The copier beeped angrily at him, and he gratefully used the task of refilling the paper tray to do a little thinking (read: obsessing).
He replayed the past few times they’d interacted, compared them to how things were when they first met.
Had they been flirting with each other this whole time? Was this a new thing? Was this even flirting? What was going on?
Nick knewhe’dbeen trying lately, but he usually didn’t dare hope that Brady had been flirtingback. This was something else entirely. Sharing a room, sure, friends did that, but the way Brady was acting didn’t add up to “Bros saving a buck by going Dutch.”
So what did two guys plus one hotel room equal in this equation?
Excited, Nick couldn’t wait for this tournament for a whole new set of reasons.
Because in close quarters, if nothing else, he should have an idea if this attraction was one-sided or not.
Andmaybeget a chance to act on it.
Chapter Seven: The Pennsylvania Tournament
