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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
E.L. Massey
Read between
January 11 - January 12, 2024
“I loved him against reason,” Eli shouts after Alex, “against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” “I already said I would get it,” Alex shouts back. “You don’t need to woo me with Dickens.” “Ah, but I must always woo you, my love,” Eli argues, affecting a terrible English accent, “With Dickens or otherwise.” “Can you do your wooing a little more quietly?” Francesca yells from her bedroom.
“Do not break my boyfriend,” Eli says, looking pointedly at Toby. “I know he’s an overly competitive moron, but his ankles are also worth several million dollars. So if any of you so much as thinks about tripping him to prove a point, I will have you excommunicated from this family. Everyone knows I’m Abuela’s favorite. I can make it happen.”
“Mr. Price, what are your intentions with my son?” “Oh, you know,” Alex says, grin finally breaking through his serious demeanor, “love him, cherish him, take him to a movie and have him back by eleven.” Eli’s dad glances at the clock—barely 6:00 p.m.—and raises an eyebrow. “It’s a very long movie,” Alex says, utterly straight-faced.
Maybe this is just his life, now. Maybe after everything, maybe he just gets to be happy.
“The hell?” Asher says faintly. “Are you two fucking?” “Oh, Alex,” Eli says, dry as the Sahara. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.”
“Back to the cuddling thing. Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?” “Is that sexual innuendo?” Eli asks. “No. I’m genuinely curious.” “I’m the knife,” Alex mutters. “He’s the little spoon,” Eli says.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Alex says. “Please, he’s my boyfriend. You have to let me see him.”
“Hey, Jeff,” Alex says. “Did you know that somewhere in the world, there’s a really rude goat named after you?” “Oh, no,” Eli says. “There’s a what?” Jeff says.
“Fucking cocksucker,” Booker hisses. And. Well. Alex glances at the ref who is still pointedly pretending he can’t hear them. “Uh, yeah?” Alex says, tightening his grip on his stick. “I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I wasn’t.”
“Sure. But maybe we can save that until after we’ve had a couple orgasms.” “A couple? That seems a little ambitious.” “We’re literally teenagers. It’s not ambitious. It’s realistic.” Alex grins. “Oh, the places you’ll go with warming lube and a can-do attitude?” “That’s the spirit.”
“A prince arm thing,” Eli repeats. “What the hell is a prince arm thing?” Matts bends one of his elbows at a ninety-degree angle, holding it out from his body, fist against his hip. Wearing a towel and nothing else, he looks completely ridiculous. “Ohhh,” Asher says. “A prince arm thing.” He hooks his hand through the bend of Matts’s extended elbow, as dainty as a naked six-foot-four, corn-fed Tennessee boy can be. “Like this?”
“But I have warning for other teams if the league do the wrong thing. Anybody say bad things about Eli, my aim very good.”
Martel leans forward, expectant. “You’ve been very quiet up until this point,” Washington Post guy says. “Is there a reason you’ve joined your teammates and coach at the table? Is there anything you’d like to say?” “Oh, me?” Martel throws his thumb, cavalier, toward Okezie. “I’m just here as moral support for my boyfriend.”
“I fake-dated you for three months, and said I loved you in my head before I ever pined my way into kissing you in a fit of rage. I think we were worse.”
He thinks about how, a year ago, he was so desperately unhappy. And now— Alex can’t remember ever being so content. Or so scared.
He remembers, suddenly, a line he read in a book somewhere: Love is the fire of life; it either consumes or purifies. Eli kisses him again, just as desperate as Alex feels, and Alex— Alex is consumed.
“In fact, I love…” He shifts his hips again. “…all the pointy things about you.” “Oh my god, Alex. Why are you like this?” “The combination of you naked and the promise of orgasms is really good at distracting me from my crushing anxiety.” “Oh, well, if the sex is for your mental health…” “The sex is absolutely for my mental health,” Alex confirms. “Guess we’d better get right on that, then.”
“Alex is being homophobic,” Eli mutters. “Oh?” Jeff says. “I won’t kiss him until he’s done with this paper,” Alex explains. “Ah,” Jeff says. “You should call HR, Eli. The NHL is very serious about homophobia now; I’m not sure if you’ve heard.”
“Are you trying to take advantage of me because I’m exhausted and ugly and my defenses are down?” “Yes,” Eli says. “Okay,” Alex agrees magnanimously. “Come take advantage of me, then.” Eli grins, climbing into his lap. “All right, well, goodbye,” Jeff says.
They cling to each other for a few minutes until Alex’s breathing has evened out. The hallway slowly gets louder, and then Matts opens the door to peek inside. “You guys,” he yells to the assembled group outside, “they’re not even fucking. They’re just crying all over each other.” “Fuck you,” Alex says, smearing his sweaty, tear-streaked face against Eli’s. “We just won the Stanley Cup. I’m allowed to have feelings about it.”
He’s in his own bed, which is good. Eli is asleep on one side of him. Also good. The cup is tucked under the covers on the other. So good.
