Page 29 of Off Sides
“You don’t like babies?” Really, brain? That’s all you got?
“No, kids are gross, messy, usually sticky or smelly, and loud.” The big man ticks things off on his fingers. Being a defenseman means he’s got weight to throw around and he’s a hairy bastard on top of it. He’s solid as a boulder and probably twice as thick as I am.
I laugh in my head at the unintentional dick joke.
“So are ninety percent of the guys on our team.” I scoff and run my hand over my hair. I want to find Joey and demand that he listen to me, but I doubt he will. I don’t know enough about his history to be able to figure out what’s going on in his head right now.
I need out of here. The longer I stay in here, the worse I’ll spiral. “I gotta go,” I mumble before I grab my shoes, a hoodie, and my phone, then leave. I can’t be in here where I can still smell Joey on my pillow. Where I can picture him lying in my bed, hear his sweet voice in my head.
It’s cold outside since the temperature has dropped below freezing, but I don’t care. I just start walking. The wind bites at my cheeks and nose, my breath a cloud in front of my face, but I keep going with nowhere in mind.
The streets are busy, people are in a hurry like always. It’s easy to get lost in the crowd and let my mind wander.
I’m not typically a relationship guy because football takes up so much of my time. Spring training, summer training, the season, practice, traveling, and gym time all take up a lot of my energy. Add classes on top of it and I’m not left with much else. Most people want to spend time with their boyfriend. Most athletes’ significant others don’t last long. Once the season starts, they bounce.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I text Joey.
NICK:
This doesn’t have to change anything. We can still just mess around when you get that itch.
I wait for him to see it but either he didn’t hear the notification or he’s ignoring me.
NICK:
We can be friends, like we agreed on.
Fuck, I sound desperate. Clingy.
I scrub a hand over my face and call Brent. He won’t bullshit me.
It rings a few times before his face comes up on the screen.
“What’s up, numbnuts?” He smirks at me and my bright red cheeks.
“Neal caught me having sex.” I sigh.
The smile on my best friend’s face falls and his eyes widen.
“Oh shit, with that hockey player?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. He panicked, ran, and said we’re done.”
“Sounds like you were more than hooking up, man.” He pauses for a second, then the light behind him changes as he moves. “You catch feelings or did you just not want to tell me the whole truth?”
As I walk along, I find a bench and sit down. The cold seeps through my jeans so fast I’m afraid my ass is going to get stuck to the metal.
“I offered to let him explore some shit with me, told him I wanted to be friends.” I look up at the gray clouds that are just as stormy as my head. “He’s an athlete. He knows how hard it is to keep relationships up, so it was a good deal.”
“Right…”
“Shut up. It was a good plan!”
“Yet here you are looking like a kicked puppy. Something isn’t adding up, dude.”
I huff out a breath in agitation. “All right. Fine. I caught fucking feelings, you jackass. Happy now?”
“Uh, yeah, actually, I am. ’Cause I’m right.” Brent reaches across himself to pat his own shoulder.