Save the Game (SCU Hockey #2)

by J.J. Mulder

“So, I was wondering, how would you feel about grabbing dinner sometime?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You caught me. I’ve been visiting all the overnight establishments looking for you, just so I could sit here and impress you with my literary taste.”

“Are you insane?” he asks, leaning across the table toward me. “You’ll have to go to dinner with me to find out.”

“Distracted by that hideous shirt, more like.” I aim a pointed look at his shirt. He arches a brow at me and gestures at his torso. “What? I look fantastic in yellow.” “You look like an omelet.”

“But a handsome omelet,” I allow, and try to ignore the way my stomach swoops at my own daring. Relax. You’re just flirting, it doesn’t mean anything.

Maxyyyyyy You gonna send that picture? Of course not. You’re right. Date first, naked pictures later. What kind of food do you like?

“Hello, you. Please tell me you’re real and not a fragment of my imagination,” I say to Max, who approaches the counter, but stops well back from it.

Sometimes I’d like to hide. If nobody can see you, they can’t see something they’d like to take.”

“I need to come and do the hockey games. My collection is missing Max Kuemper and I just can’t have that.”

“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.”

I’m whistling cheerfully by the time a timid knock comes at the front door. I pull it open to find Max on the doorstep, looking fresh and lovely, and smelling like peppermint. He’s wearing a shirt that fits, for once—accentuating his muscular chest and arms, and slim waist. I want to touch him.

“Hi, Luke.” He hesitates, steeling himself. I can literally see him square his shoulders before he steps forward and kisses me; it’s so quick, I might have imagined it. I grab him before he can move back. “Oh, I think we can do better than that,” I tell him, and cup my hand around the back of his neck the same way I’ve seen him do a dozen times.

“Maxy, I’m here, wearing an omelet yellow shirt and an apron, asking you to go steady with me.” It’s my turn to laugh, and I hear Luke chime in from the other side. “Yeah, I’ll go steady with you, you fucking weirdo. But no more ghosting me for three days. I’m too needy to handle that.”

“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.

“So, hey, are you my boyfriend?” I ask, and he chokes a little bit because of my unfortunate timing. “What?” he asks, after successfully clearing his throat of peanut butter. “What’s our thing? Boyfriends, lovers, partners? Sex cowboys?” “Sex cowboys?” “I don’t know,” I laugh, “I just couldn’t think of any other relationship terms, so figured I’d make up some of my own. Sex cowboys sounds like it might be a good time.”

“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.”

I almost wonder if he’s fallen back asleep, until his hand slides up my side and he kisses my throat where his lips are already resting. “Good morning,” he mumbles, words barely audible. “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.

“Mm, maybe. Or…,” he rolls his hips against mine, as though making sure I noticed the massive boner he’s rocking, “we could do something else.”

“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.”

But I like that you want to do it; it makes me feel like you want me here.” Well goddamn, Max, go ahead and stab me in the heart while you’re at it.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “What?” “I am really fucking obsessed with you,”