Page 40 of In Too Deep
“The 1995 version, or the 2007 version?” Spencer asks quickly.
“Oh, 1995. And it absolutely devastated me when my parents finally explained that I couldn’t marry him on the grounds that he lived in the past, and that he’s fictional. My first heartbreak.” She starts off serious before dissolving into a melodramatic tone, leaning back and covering her eyes with her forearm for emphasis.
We all share a laugh, and Tori’s face brightens with a smile as she reaches forward to spin the bottle. I’m not surprised when itlands on Oli again, though I am surprised when he answers right away.
“Well, when I was a kid, I was obsessed with the Pompeii tragedy. Visiting the ruins is in the top three slots of my bucket list,” he says, his smile fond.
“You had time to think about stuff other than hockey?” Spencer teases, grinning at his roommate.
Oli rolls his eyes as he leans forward to spin the bottle. I know what Spencer is getting at with the jab, and the shadow that crosses Oli’s face confirms it. Some kids are naturally talented and are able to have some semblance of balance in their lives between hockey and other activities and interests. But it seems like Oli and Spencer were in the same boat I was in growing up, the one where we had to eat, sleep, breathe, and live hockey, all with the goal of getting to the big leagues. We share a look as the bottle slows, and I give them both a slight nod of acknowledgment and commiseration. They don’t make me comment on it as the neck of the bottle comes to a spot pointing to me.
Time to take things a little deeper.
“If we’re sharing childhood stories, then this is as good a time as any to reveal that I used to have a bad stutter when I was a kid,” I say, intentionally turning away from them under the pretense of checking the roast veg to hide how my cheeks and ears heat from embarrassment.
“I never would have known,” Tori says sympathetically.
“Because I went to a lot of speech therapy to fix it, pretty much until I got hurt. If you ever find some of my old interviews, you can hear it. Most people were cool about it, but there were still enough assholes out there to make me hate doing press shit even today,” I reply with a shrug.
“Did the name of one of those assholes rhyme with Shmike Shmenderson?” Tori asks.
I chuckle ironically. “Funnily enough, one of assholes does have a name that rhymes with that. I was hoping he’d’ve retired by now.”
“I’m convinced he has a Dorian Gray portrait somewhere, and he’s going to haunt this team until the end of time,” Tori groans.
“Aren’t those supposed to make you younger and prettier?” Eli tosses out.
We share a laugh, and I spin the bottle quickly before they can press the subject, landing on Eli. Tori’s mismatched blue gaze catches mine for a moment, and she gives me a small smile of understanding, and a single dip of her chin before she turns to look at Eli. I relax slightly at the gesture, recognizing her intentions. Spencer has made no secret of his distaste for the press, and one Shmike Shemenderson motherfucker in particular, and he’s never been forced to do scrums since. I have a feeling I’m going to get the same treatment from now on. It makes my heart swell to think about how much Tori cares about everyone in this room, and everyone on the team, going out of her way to make us as comfortable as possible.
“The most embarrassing thing I did as a kid was try to pull a Bear Grylls. I watched something on TV about surviving in the wilderness by building a snow cave, so I tried it. It worked, and I even got a fire going. But being a kid, I missed the part where you’re supposed to build a chimney to let the smoke out before you seal the entrance,” Eli says, hardly balking as he shares.
“Holy shit, dude! You could have fucking died!” Oli rises slightly from his seat to glare at him over Tori’s and Spencer’s heads.
“Yep. Almost did. Thankfully, my siblings noticed that I hadn’t come up for air in a while and dug me out before too much harm was done. Still had to spend a few nights in hospital,” Eli replies, shrugging like it’s a totally normal thing to nearly asphyxiate yourself.
“So that explains why you’re such a dumbass sometimes. All those brain cells you lost smoking yourself,” Spencer says thoughtfully.
Tori lets out a bark of laughter before covering her mouth with her hand, trying and failing to maintain a straight face. Grinning to myself, I look down at the chicken as I pull it from the oil and place it on a plate to rest and drain.
“Supper’s just about done. Do you set the table here, or serve it buffet style?” I ask, changing the subject before Oli can go off on Eli.
“Buffet style. Let me get some plates down.” Eli gets up and firmly ignores the stern glare of Oli as it follows him around the kitchen.
Our game pauses as I finish cooking, and we serve ourselves before sitting around the table. The air is much more comfortable as we break bread, the sharing continuing even without the bottle. It’s fascinating to watch Tori interact with the boys. Oli and Eli move in sync, the years they’ve spent together showing in the simplest tics. Spencer’s eyes hardly leave Tori’s face, like he’s trying to memorize her down to the smallest atom of her perfect skin. The on-ice synchronicity I saw from the first time I put them on a line together persists into their off time, but instead of focusing on a game, they are fixated on Tori. She hardly has to speak to get their attention, and rarely has to finish a request before one of them is there to fulfill it. And the longer I observe, the easier it is for me to pick up on the same signals and act accordingly.
By the time I leave much, much later, I know that we’ve taken a big step toward our mutual future.
The morning after Loganate with us dawns slow and sleepy, no hurry or rush to the beams of sunlight peeking through the blinds. When I turn over, the corners of my lips lift in a fond smile at the sight before me. Bathed in the soft rays, Eli and Tori are snuggled together, the duvet kicked away and just a thin sheet covering their legs. Eli is on his back with our omega half draped over his naked chest, their breathing almost completely in sync. She’s only in a light tank top and a pair of cotton panties, which is probably how she can stand to be so close to our walking bonfire of a partner.
The house is quiet enough that I can hear Spencer’s alarm when it goes off a few moments after I wake up, but he heads downstairs after a quick stop in his bathroom. I should wake my lovers, but we have so few peaceful mornings. It won’t hurt to spend a few more minutes in bed.
I roll over and shift around until Tori is sandwiched between my chest and Eli’s side, slipping my arms around her waist to hold her close. Her scent mixes with mine and Eli’s, creating a warm blend of black tea and fruit, sweet and tart on my tongue. My chest rumbles with a soft purr, and I nuzzle my cheek against the side of her head, rubbing even more of my scent onto her.
“Morning, Ace,” Tori whispers, voice gravelly with sleep.
“Did I wake you, princess?” I whisper, shifting back slightly to allow Tori to turn over and face me.
Shaking her head, she rubs her eyes with an adorable little yawn. God, even without an ounce of makeup, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I push back some of her sleep-mussed hair, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline before pulling her close. I shiver slightly as her fingers come to rest on my bare chest, her cheek resting over my heart.