Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I was totally on that list, you know.”
Ollie grins. “Sure, you were.”
Can’t I be cool once in my life?
Chapter Nine
OLLIE
While this is not an actual date, it totally feels like one. I assume. I’ve never had a date because Ash and I went from childhood friends to living together in about five minutes flat.
I buy us drinks while Lennon swoops in to grab an emptying table as we walk in. Jet’s already on stage doing his thing, and I convince myself that getting the drinks is what friends do.
Which is what we are now. Apparently.
Because I’m a dumbass.
I can’t be friends with Lennon Hawkins.
He reaches for his scotch as I go to hand it over, and our fingers brush against each other. The glass slips out of my hand, but his is right there to catch it.
Yup, being friends with him is going to damn near kill me.
I distract myself by taking my seat and turning my attention to Jet on stage. His natural presence is indescribable, but whatever it is about him that makes him charismatic, it’s amplified when he’s singing. He’s gonna make it big one day.
Lennon leans in, his breath warm next to my ear. “He’s impressive, huh?”
I nod, my mouth too dry to make words work.
A couple near the front of the stage catch my eye. They’re off to the side, practically being hidden by a massive speaker, but I still notice them.
It’s two guys, both with meticulously slicked hair and trendy clothes. One has his back against the taller guy’s front, and the one in front is leaning back enough for their mouths to come together.
To do that here, in public, the pang of jealousy hits me like when I see Matt and Noah in the tabloids together.
I must stare longingly a little too long, because Lennon leans in again.
“This might not be a gay bar, but at least it’s a safe space. We can go if you’re uncomf—”
“Will you dance with me?” The question flies out of me without much thought.
This place is obviously accepting, and I’ve never been somewhere it was safe to touch another guy without ridicule or risk of being recognized.
Ash used to try to get me to go out to these kinds of places, but I never had the guts. Lennon got me here without even trying. And now I’m asking him to dance when I shouldn’t be.
Lennon laughs. “As fun as dancing sounds, that would be a no. Like, hell no.”
I turn my head to speak in his ear. “Should my ego be offended again?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. You should be flattered I won’t subject you to my dancing. I’m, like, the worst, and I just got you to respect me again, so I’m not gonna screw that up by showing you my shocking moves.”
As disappointed as I am, it’s probably for the best anyway. They might be accepting here, but the bouncer did recognize me. Anyone else could.
At that thought, I shuffle my stool farther away from Lennon and paranoia sets in. The switch flips that easy.
It was a constant problem in my relationship with Ash. He’s an affectionate guy and comfortable in his skin. The only place outside of our home where he could show that affection was at our parents’ houses.
I’d like to not think about appearances in public and how I’m “supposed” to act, but it’s always in the back of my mind. In all the time I was with Ash, I didn’t like having to control my actions and be careful all the time but thought it was necessary. Now, all I can think is how much I hate it and don’t want to have to do it anymore.
Chapter Ten
LENNON
I feel sorry for Ollie as he takes to the ice to face off his old team. Game one of Boston versus New York is a disaster for the Dragons and ends in a fucking shutout.
By the time I finish my notes to write up later and make it to the team’s hotel bar, where they’re drowning their sorrows, I can’t find Ollie anywhere. I don’t know why I’ve come looking for him in the first place other than to say sorry about the game—something he probably doesn’t want to hear anyway. The excuse to search him out seems thin now I’m here.
Deciding to abort my mission, I turn on my heel, but on the way back through the lobby, I run into Tommy.
“Hey, reporter dude.”
“Hockey dude.”
Tommy seems amused that I won’t take his shit. “Looking for Strömberg?”
“Umm …”
His lips quirk, and he quickly glances around. “What, you don’t think he tells me everything? I had to listen to him whine over your stupid articles for weeks before he was traded. Then after the benefit? All I can say is I’m lucky to still have my balls.”