Save the Game (SCU Hockey #2)

by J.J. Mulder

“What are you going to be photographing?”

“You.”

“I didn’t pick you up,” I point out. “You just sort of attached yourself to me.” “Like a cuddly and adorable koala.” “Or a parasite.”

“Hello, you,” I greet him, and he smiles. Wars have been fought for less than a smile like Max Kuemper’s.

“just because he doesn’t have solid memories of that night—it doesn’t mean he doesn’t remember.”

“Maxy, I’m here, wearing an omelet yellow shirt and an apron, asking you to go steady with me.”

“Careful what you wish for, Luke Kelly,” he warns, holding his hand out to me palm up across the center console. “You’d be an easy person to fall in love with.”

You’d be easy to fall in love with too, Maxy.

“Dinner shall be served below, my liege.” “After you, peasant,” Max

“Boyfriend, then. Whichever label means that we’re exclusive, and that nobody can touch you but me, that’s the one I want.” “All right,” he says, smiling softly. “Boyfriends. You sure you know what that word means?” “Property of Luke Kelly—anybody who checks out your fine ass that isn’t me, dies a slow and painful death.”

“Good morning, baby,” I reply, because I’m a fucking sap, and he drooled all over me, and I want to keep him here forever.

“You’re not broken, Max. You’re beautiful and kind; you make me fucking laugh, and it’s not like you’re even trying to do it, but everything you say always ends up being what I needed to hear. I wanted you the moment you walked into the diner that night—I wanted to know you, and touch you, and just be around you. None of that changed when I found out about the party. I know you’re mad at me, and I’m going to do what you asked and leave, but I’m not leaving for good, okay? I’m not walking away.”

“I miss you so damn bad. God, I miss you. You’re, like, my favorite person, you know that? I don’t even think I knew that until this week, but it’s true. And listen, I know that you don’t need somebody to take care of you, or to treat you with kid gloves or anything, but I wasn’t trying to do that because I think you’re weak. I was doing that because…well, I don’t know, because you’re mine, which means you’re mine to take care of.”

“How do you always smell like sunshine,” he mumbles. “It can’t be normal.” “What does sunshine smell like, anyway?” “You,”