Page 71 of Damn Roommate

“Any dare?”

I turn to Nolan, and seeing him tense his shoulders, I know he understands the meaning of my question. It was addressed to him, and right now, I know what I dream of asking him if I win. A dare is a dare, and Nolan Jones just has to be careful, because I might beveryinspired.

“You will lose, mini-Martin. I’m telling you.”

His deep voice makes my stomach vibrate and he starts the game before I even recover from my emotions. The game gets off to a fast start, and while he struggles not to lose the hockey puck, he tries an action between my line of defense, without success. My goalkeeper intercepts the shot without incident and my players retake the lead.

“Dessert is served!”

My mom screams from the top of the stairs and Edgar and Leo rush off the couch.

“Are you pausing it?”

“No,” says Nolan. “We’re finishing!”

He’s focused. His fingers play with the buttons on his controller and his eyes don’t leave the screen in front of us for asingle second. I don’t lead, he’s good. Very good even. He always has been. And the stakes of the bet are high. I can ask him anything if I win, he can’t refuse me anything. He knows it, and he’s showing me that he’s not going to give up so easily.

“You should join us!” says Edgar.

Edgar goes up following Leo and we quickly find ourselves alone. Sitting on the leather chair, I’m in profile to the television but I have a perfect view of Nolan. His face tense, his elbows locked on his thighs and his legs slightly apart. I’m trying my best not to lose track of the game, but with him just a few feet away from me, it’s no easy task. After the second period, the game offers us a break of a few seconds and I take the opportunity to get up under his confused gaze.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m coming here,” I reply. “You’re better off here, and I wouldn’t want you in better condition than me.”

He laughs and as I sit on the sofa, I take the opportunity to get a littletooclose to him. Our arms brush against each other, he shifts. The game resumes, and I sigh despite myself. He’s not easy to bend.

“You are getting soft, Jones.”

“You’re not going to get me like this, mini-Martin.”

I laugh and nudge his elbow.

“Cheater!”

“Sore loser!”

He laughs and seeing his smile on his full lips makes my stomach lurch.

“You’re trying to distract me,” he says. “It will never work!”

“Sure, you’re mostly looking for an excuse to justify your shit game.”

He nudges me in turn, and I cry out in surprise because I lose the puck and he recovers it with disconcerting ease.

“Do you really want to play this?” I threaten him.

He laughs and I can’t help but enjoy this moment. Without embarrassment, as before. It’s just the two of us, and yet he’s not ignoring me, and acting natural despite everything that’s happened.

“You can always try. You would be in front of the TV in your underwear that it wouldn’t change anything. I will win, Scar.”

I don’t know if it’s his comment that is raising the tension in the room or our thighs brushing against each other at this moment, but electricity spreads between us, and my skin shivers. I swallowed, unable to think of anything but him and me, almost naked. I cast a glance in his direction, he seems unfazed, yet his comment surprised him as much as me, because his shoulders are less hunched than before. His back has tensed up and I know he’s not as focused as he looks.

“What if I suck you off?” I say in a hoarse voice. “That won’t have any effect on your concentration either?”

He misses a pass at that very moment, and I manage to return the shot, plunging the puck between the legs of his goalkeeper and thus scoring the first goal of the game. The bell announcing the end rings from the television, and the colors of the Montreal Canadiens light up the screen. Nolan grunts and throws the controller on the couch. I burst out laughing, standing up proudly to do a ridiculous joyous dance. Arms crossed against his chest, he rages.

“It’s unfair.”

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