Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys, #2)

by Eden Finley

I knock loudly and shout, “Cover up, I’m coming in.” I give them a minute, then push inside. Apparently, I wasn’t loud enough, because Tripp is still fast asleep, and his hookup is staring at the door through weary eyes. “Move over,” I tell him before crawling along the middle of the bed and flopping down between them. Tripp barely stirs, so I lean right into his face, then shout his name. His hazel eyes fly wide as he shoots upright. “What the fuck, Dex?” I crack up laughing even as Tripp stares at me in shock. Then his gaze slides across to the other guy. “Fucking hell.” He turns to face-plant into his pillow. All I can see is the top of his messy red hair. “Ah, should I go?” the guy asks. “Actually, maybe you could help.” It doesn’t look like Tripp is planning to resurface anytime soon, so I settle back into the pillows and tuck my hands behind my head. “I think my girlfriend broke up with me.” The guy’s gaze flicks over my head toward Tripp, looking like he isn’t sure what to do. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “Dex Mitchale, Tripp’s bestie. This is nothing I haven’t seen before.” “Okay …” He adjusts the sheets around his waist and gets comfortable again. “Austin.” “You were our server last night, right?” “Yup. So, this girlfriend. Why do you only think she broke up with you? Isn’t that kind of thing obvious?” “She said to call her when I grow up or whatever. So does that mean it’s over for now? Or we’re still together and she wants me to fix my shit before she comes back?” H...

Tripp’s jaw tightens. “Well, I’d like my dick sucked, so if you’re planning to do that, by all means, stay.” My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” “You two are cute,” Austin says, which dissolves my shock as I glow under the praise. We are cute. Everyone says so. Tripp and Dex. Dex and Tripp. The Mitchell Brothers. Not that we’re brothers. We’re closer than that.

Austin leans over me and gives Tripp a soft, way-too-slow-to-be-comfortable-for-me kiss, and my eyes narrow. “Bye.” He climbs out of bed, dresses, and leaves. I’m still staring after him when I say, “He was hot. At least, objectively. Though, he’s prettier than a lot of the guys you’ve been with. Going to call him again?” When Tripp doesn’t answer, I turn my attention to him and find him wearing the odd look he gives me sometimes that I can never figure out. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “Thank you.” Tripp sighs and gets comfortable again. “You okay?” “I dunno.” “Go to sleep.” His eyes drift closed. “We’ll talk later.” “Tripp?” “Yeah?” “Can you hold me?” I wriggle closer to him. “Fuck’s sake, I’m naked under here.” “And? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, the blanket is between us, so it’s not like it’s gay.” “Right. Because being gay would be terrible.” “You know that’s not what I mean. It’s just platonic snuggles.” Finally, the tension starts to leave him. “Yeah, I know.” When he finally pulls me to him, his arms are warm and comfortable. More dudes really should do this. People joke about us having a bromance all the time, but it’s the best way to describe us. I love him. More than Jessica. Tripp’s my ride or die. No one can come between a friendship like ours. “Hey, Tripp?” He acknowledges me with a sleepy grunt. “It smells like sex in here.”

Waking up wrapped around my best friend isn’t a new experience, but for a while now, it’s been a painful one. Because as much as I like having Dex around and appreciate that he’s not one of those straight guys who automatically think affection from a gay man means they’re in love with them, in this case, it’s actually true. Oops. I don’t know when I fell in love with Dex Mitchale, only that I have. And I’m a fucking dumbass for it. Because while he’s talking about marriage to someone who doesn’t appreciate him, I’m trying my best to hide my feelings for him. I’ve been trying for a long time. So long, in fact, that I think I have pretty much accepted the inevitable. I will be in love with my best friend until the day I die.

friends tell me I need to get over it, and even though they’re right, I’ve decided to take a new approach: pretend my feelings don’t exist. I’ve never seen a therapist in my life, but I’m sure they’d tell me I’m making a wise and healthy decision. I’ve been trying to put space between us, to try to get over him that way, but I haven’t come right out and said I need it. Dex is a sensitive soul. It’s one of the first things that ever drew me to him as a friend, but as time has gone on, that need to protect him has only grown. I want to protect his heart, even if it’s at the detriment of my own. If I told Dex I needed time apart, he would think he did something wrong and then spend the next month doing sweet things to make up for it, which would only make me fall for him more. Telling him I’m in love with him is out of the question, because then he really will give me space, but not the kind I need. He’d apologize profusely about unknowingly hurting me, and then the space and the guilt over asking for it would eat at me. We’d both grow resentful, and it would ruin everything we have. Wah, wah, wah, tragic gay boy stereotype in love with his straight best friend. I don’t want to live without him, but seeing him every day makes it harder and harder to keep my shit under control. Which is how I’ve ended up here. Again. Instead of having phenomenal sex with one of our servers at the Stanley Cup celebrations—or commiserations in our case—I’m in bed with Dex.

“Is this a commiseration breakfast or a hungover one?” “Can’t it be both?” Dex takes a seat on a stool in my kitchen and lowers his head to the marble counter. “I can’t believe we lost last night.” As a goalie, it’s really hard for me not to take the blame for a loss. It’s a team sport, and I know it’s not my fault, but I’m the one who let those goals in last night. “I can’t believe I let Anton score in the last two minutes,” I say. “We could’ve gone into overtime and won it.” Dex leans in and whispers, “Don’t tell the rest of the team, but I’m kinda happy for Anton and Ezra.” “Of course you are.” And I am too. Dex and I won the Stanley Cup three years ago, and even though the competitive side of me is crushed, I can’t deny I’m happy for Ezra’s first-ever win. I’d still prefer it to be me, but hey, if I had to lose to someone, I’m glad it was to a team that has queer players. Anton and Ezra are the first-ever couple to take home the Cup. There’s only a handful of us out in the league, so we have our own clique outside of our teams. It’s good to have people to talk to who understand what it’s like to be a hockey player with all the extra crap we have to deal with as out athletes. Dex has been there for a lot of the stuff I went through—like derogatory remarks, the media focusing more on my sexuality than playing—but he still doesn’t understand. Not completely. The only ones who do are the guys in the Collective. It’s why we stick together.

“Are we going to talk about why you needed cuddles this morning?” I ask and sip my coffee. “I was kinda hoping we wouldn’t have to.” “You know you don’t have to do anything when it comes to me, but if you want to talk, I’m here.” Even if I hate your girlfriend and think you could do way better. It probably wouldn’t get to me so much if Dex was with someone worthy of him, but then again, I doubt anyone would meet that criteria. Jessica loves the lifestyle of being a WAG, but she doesn’t actually care about hockey. Some of the other guys’ girlfriends and wives are at every game, cheering their men on. Jessica sees it as a socialite hour where she can be in the spotlight because of who she’s dating. I don’t want to make her out to be some sort of gold-digging villain, and I’ve taken it upon myself to tell myself something positive about her every single day to try to change my point of view of her, but it’s hard when she acts the way she does. My usual go-to is “She makes Dex happy.” Sitting next to him right now, he doesn’t look happy. He’s had a few not-so-serious girlfriends in the last three years, and while I hated them all, in the sense they got to have Dex and I didn’t, they were genuinely nice women, and they treated Dex right. I have no clue why he’s gotten serious with this one, who is all about the drama and attention. Maybe Dex was bored with the nice girls. “I know you don’t like her,” Dex says. “And maybe I shouldn’t have come here this morning to complain about...

He grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the chapel instead of toward the golf club. “You’re not going to call her to come meet you right now, are you?” Dex Mitchale, officially off the market? This poor gay man needs some warning to deal with that kind of disappointment. “No. I just want to see it.” “We live in Vegas. You’ve seen a million of them.” “Yeah, but I’ve never been in one.” “Sober, anyway,” I add. “Remember when Porter married that chick he met while we were a week deep into our Stanley Cup win celebrations?” “Nope.” “Exactly.” Dex stops on the sidewalk, like he’s even too scared to stand in the parking lot. “It doesn’t look too intimidating from out here.” “You sure about that? What if I dared you to go inside?” “You wouldn’t do that to me.” “Wouldn’t I? Isn’t a big step toward getting over your fear, facing it?” He purses his lips. “Maybe we should go inside and check it out.” “What?” I expected him to turn and walk the other way. “Why?” “Because if Jessica wants to get married, I should see if I can walk in there without breaking out in hives.” “Again, you’ve been to weddings before,” I point out. “Even if you don’t remember Porter’s wedding, you’ve been to all the other guys’.” “But I went to those with the mindset of open bar and an excuse to get hammered. I’ve never sat at any of their weddings and thought, hmm, I can see me doing this one day.” “That’s because you’ve never wanted to get married.” I somehow keep my voice patient. “Well, maybe it’...

“Let’s go in there and look around.” “Fine,” I relent and trail after him, because I know there’s no way this will make him change his mind about marriage. If anything, a seedy wedding chapel will only cement the tackiness of the whole stupid ritual. Dex isn’t the only one who’s anti-marriage. I never plan to take that leap myself. I doubt anyone would ever be happy marrying someone who’s in love with someone else. But even before all the stupid feelings that are unrequited and stupid, I’m one of those gay guys who didn’t fight for marriage equality. The way I see it, hetero couples are screwing it up on their own. They didn’t need to bring us into it. I mean, of course it’s great that those of us who do want to get married are now able to, but it’s never been for me.

“I thought we were checking the place out, not crashing a wedding.” “We’ll sneak in the back,” he reassures me. “It’ll be fine.” It’s not fine. The receptionist neglected to tell us the wedding is already underway, and when we open the doors, the ten or so people inside turn and stare at us. Including the two standing at the altar. The man is in a camo-patterned suit, and the woman is in a tight, white dress that barely covers her ass. Her veil is longer, reaching the floor. The room is small and decorated with tacky fake flowers and zigzag-patterned carpet that no doubt hides vomit stains from wasted brides and grooms. I can’t believe I’m giving up a game of golf for this. “Carry on.” Dex waves everyone off. “Tripp and Dex Mitchell?” the groom says. The back of my neck heats. “Surprise,” Dex declares. “Your wonderful soon-to-be wife invited us knowing you’re a huge fan.” I hang my head in my hand. “This is so cool!” the groom says. When I glance up, the bride’s mouth is hanging open. “Umm, sure,” she says. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if they could make it.” “The game last night was brutally close,” the groom says. “We’re just going to sit down now and be quiet. Pretend we’re not here. We shouldn’t be stealing thunder from the happy couple. Right, Dex?” “Right.” He leans in closer. “Is that a thing?” “Yes, it’s a thing.” I push him to the empty bench seat at the back and slide in after him. The whole time we sit there watching these random people get marri...

“You’ll always have me. I don’t even need the piece of paper.” That makes me warm inside. “What about a ring?” “The only ring I need is the one that says Stanley Cup Champions on it.” “A-fucking-men.”

We’ve barely hit the foyer before I make a beeline for the woman behind the desk. “Umm, hey. Can we get married?” “Of course. Did you have a particular date in mind?” “Yeah. Today.” She turns from her computer to fix me with a look. “We’re an official wedding venue, sir. We don’t do … those kinds.” Tripp snickers from behind me. The wedding we witnessed says otherwise, but okay, lady. If you want to tell me that shitshow in there was actually planned, I’ll believe you. “Can you point me in the direction of a place that does? I wanna lock this sexy beast up.” She eyes me, then pulls a business card out of her top drawer. “This chapel offers same-day ceremonies. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.” I take the card. “Yeah, thanks.” We leave before she can judge us any harder.

“Tiny chapel, big dreams,” comes the chipper voice. “Ah, yeah, hey. I want to get married.” She giggles. “This is the place to do it.” “Awesome. And we can come in today, yeah?” “Of course. We’re a little busy at the moment and will pick up again tonight, but usually late afternoon is when there isn’t much of a wait.” She goes over some more details—what we need to bring in terms of ID, the marriage license we need to get from the official marriage license place first—and then we set a time for four o’clock. “Perfect, see you then!” I hang up, feeling really good about this plan. If it’s that straightforward and easy, it’s clearly meant to be. Tripp sighs. “I guess we’re doing this.” “Come on, you have to admit it’ll be a fun story.” “Except we’re not going to tell a single person about this.” “What?” I pretend to be shocked. “Should I be offended that it’s this hard to get you to marry me and you’re obviously embarrassed by it?” “No, you should be flattered that I’m agreeing. This will be the one and only wedding I’ll ever have.” “Naw.” I bump his jaw with my knuckles. “And you’ll always be my first.” “Right.” He shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. The change in expression makes me frown, but I try not to draw attention to it. Tripp has always been there for whatever harebrained idea I come up with, and I’m the same for him. No hesitation, no questions asked. But over the last couple of months, I’ve been picking up on something. I don’t even know what. Tripp is the same as h...

When it’s ten minutes past our meeting time and Tripp still hasn’t shown, I’m worried he’s going to leave me hanging. I’m anxious enough just being here with the thought that I’m about to promise myself to someone for life—real or not—that every passing minute stretches out forever. I shoot the girl behind the desk another reassuring smile and am about to pull out my phone to text him when he barrels through the door. “Sorry, I’m here.” I crane my neck to look around the guy standing in front of me. The one who looks suspiciously like my best friend, but there’s no way Tripp would be dressed like that. “Whatcha doing?” he asks. “Looking for the dude I’m marrying today. He must be around here somewhere.” Tripp bats at my head. “You don’t think I look good?” “I think you look … umm, about as put together as the two people we saw get married earlier today.” He hums. “Just what every man wants to hear on his wedding day.” “What’s with the outfit?” “What? You said to dress in theme.” I gesture to my suit. “Yeah, wedding theme.” He doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. “Exactly. Weddings are stupid, so I dressed the part.” I take in his “I’m with stupid” T-shirt, the water wings, and his kilt. “In that case, you nailed the brief.” “Don’t you wanna know what it all means?” he asks innocently. “I think you’re going to tell me anyway.” “The kilt was as close to a dress as I’ll go, even for you, and it’s my family kilt. Only worn on special occasions. The T-shirt, because, du...

Even though this is all fake, I’m starting to sweat in my suit. I still don’t know how getting married would somehow cure me of my irresponsibility, but I guess we’re about to find out. My sister is proof that not all women want marriage, but all the ones I’ve ever dated do. It’s like they think that a ring on their finger is an ironclad contract, when my mother is proof that it’s not. So if I want a woman of my own, I need to suck up all my issues and get over myself. I’ve never been more grateful for Tripp. There’s no one I’d rather be doing this with.

the sight of the short aisle makes my head spin. I tug at the collar of my shirt because it suddenly feels too tight. Tripp’s hand finds mine. “You good?” Am I? “I think so.” “We can still back out.” I clear my throat. “Nope. We’re here now. Let’s go.” And even though my hand is clammy, he doesn’t drop it until we reach the front and things get started. My knowledge of weddings is that they’re long and boring, which comes from sitting through all those enormous weddings my teammates have had. But in what seems like no time at all, the officiant is asking for the rings. I reach for the pocket inside my jacket and pull out my Stanley Cup ring, just as Tripp holds up his own. He did say it was the only one he’d ever need. The officiant says something ridiculous and mushy, and then he turns to me. “Dexter, repeat after me.” I hurry to put my game face on and take Tripp’s hand. “I, Dexter James Mitchale, take you, Tripp Alexander Mitchell …” “I, Dexter James Mitchale, take you, Tripp Alexander Mitchell …” The words feel so foreign. “To be my husband, through the good times and bad. Through successes and struggles …” I swallow hard. “To be my husband, through the good times and bad. Through successes and struggles …” At least that part is true. For us. Whatever we’ve been through in the past three years, we’ve been through it together. “Through richer and poorer, and in sickness and health, I will treasure you for as long as we both shall live.” And as I recite the words, ...

The idea of choosing one person to spend my whole life with is scary. But as long as Tripp is always there, I know I can get through anything.

When Dex suggested getting married, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So instead, I blinked at him like he was crazy. Because this is crazy. I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. Yet here we are, exchanging vows, and it figures that when I finally get everything that I want, it’s one hundred percent fake. He’s doing this to try to convince himself he could get married if he was forced to, and I should’ve put a stop to it before now. But there’s that part of me that wants this so much, I’m letting myself pretend. If only for a while.

The thing about falling in love with your best friend is that it doesn’t happen in an instant. And if someone asked me why I loved him, I’m not sure I could come up with any one answer. He’s fiercely loyal. He cares about people, even if he doesn’t know them. His outlook on life might be naive, but fuck, everyone could use some naivety—to see the world through the eyes of someone who only sees the good in people. From the moment I walked into the Vegas locker room, Dex was my best friend. He was the first to welcome me, the first to offer to hang out, and he’s been constantly by my side ever since. Somewhere along the way, my feelings just happened. One day we were on the ice for our warm-up skate before a game, and after I did my usual stretching and talking to my crossbar asking for cooperation, Dex skated up to me and held out his fist for me to bump. It was our own pregame ritual, just between us. Fist bump, chest bump, hug, then a fake-out high five. In that order. Juvenile maybe, but the crowd who’s there early enough for warm-ups love it. It wasn’t supposed to become a thing, but it did. And it was in that moment, doing something we had done together thousands of times, that I realized I was in love with him. We lost that game in a shutout where I let in seven goals before Coach pulled me off and replaced me with Reeves, our backup goalie, who was a rookie at the time and couldn’t stop a bullet to save his life. I lost my game because I knew, without a doubt, I was ...

“Tripp?” Dex’s brown eyes hold the kind of insecurity they usually do when a reporter asks about goal percentages, and he stands there with his lips parted and an “uhhhh” sound coming out his mouth. I swear some of them ask simply to make him look dumb. “Right. Sorry. Vows.” The urge to run out of here is overwhelming, but I can’t do that to Dex. He’s too precious, and even though this feels real to me, like I’ve been transported into an alternate dimension and Dex is somehow in love with me too, none of it is. We’re not even going to file the paperwork. This is an experiment. A goof. It’s not real. But as I say the words “I, Tripp Alexander Mitchell, take you, Dexter James Mitchale, to be my husband, through the good times and bad. Through successes and struggles …” I realize that I mean it all. This might be fake, but my vows are very real. And as much as this memory will crush me for years to come, adding layers and layers to the unrequited love suffocating my heart, I can’t walk out on him. We try to exchange rings and then quickly realize we shouldn’t swap but wear our own. Dex is taller and leaner than I am, so I can barely get his Stanley Cup ring on my fat finger. I’m bu...

“I always cry at weddings.” “Because they’re so beautiful?” “No, because every time a couple gets married, a manwhore fairy dies. We just killed someone, and you don’t even care.” I finally risk looking at his face, because I know he’ll be smiling and not so concerned that my eyes are involuntarily leaking. “A … manwhore fairy.” His brow furrows. “Umm, what exactly is a manwhore fairy?” “Whenever you have a random hookup, a gay manwhore fairy gets its wings. It’s legend, passed on to all of the baby gays.”

“Congratulations. Uh, I don’t mean to rush you out, but we do have a 4:30 ceremony, and you still need to sign the certificate.” We quickly get that out of the way, and then he hands me the piece of paper we’re never going to file. I hand it off to Dex, because the last thing I need is a reminder that today happened. Then Dex holds out his hand. “Ready, husband?” I link my arm with his. “Ready.” “So,” Dex says. “Are you going to take my last name? Or should I take yours?” I laugh. “We’ve been over this. My spelling is correct, and yours is an abomination. Why do you think everyone uses my spelling when they call us the Mitchell brothers? You should be so lucky to be Mr. Dex Mitchell.” “No arguments from me.” Dear God. We exit the small chapel, where another couple is waiting. They do a double take at Dex in his suit, and me in my … uh, wedding attire. I just act like I’m drunk. Like I want to be. It was only a short ceremony, but I’d like to erase the memory with as much alcohol as my body can possibly handle.

I wake with a groan. Back-to-back nights of drinking was not a good idea. Neither was getting wasted to try to forget everything about that ceremony. I still remember every detail. Every word. Every vow. And that stupid kiss that took my breath away. TV shows and movies lie! When you get married in Vegas, you’re supposed to wake up with no recollection of how it happened. Dex is sprawled across my bed, still in his suit. His buttons and tie are undone, showing off his impressive and smooth chest, so at least his inability to even undress on his wedding night is on par with the drunken marriage in Vegas shtick. Maybe that was our problem. We did this all wrong. We were supposed to get drunk before the ceremony, not after. The wedding is clear as day, but the night is a bit of a blur. I remember laughing. A lot. And then when we came back to my apartment on unsteady feet, Dex climbed into bed next to me and asked me to spoon him like he always does, and I went with it. Because I’m used to it now. I’m used to him asking me for affection without realizing the consequences of his request. And why would he question it? It’s not like I’ve ever told him to stop. I crave his attention, and I like cuddling with him. Even to the detriment of my own heart. The guys from the Collective keep telling me to set boundaries, and I know I should, but what can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment, apparently. Dex isn’t the one to blame here—I am. Dex stirs and stretches sleepily, then turns his...

I’ll be back soon.” Dex jumps out of bed, and I stay, trying to go back to sleep, but I can’t. Flashes of yesterday keep running through my mind. Drinking, joking around … Dex dragging me out to the dance floor in some random bar and declaring whatever song came on next would be our wedding song. Then he facepalmed because it was “Baby Got Back.” Didn’t stop him from serenading me with it though. Considering how much he hated the idea of marriage and weddings, last night was a fuck ton of fun. I shouldn’t be surprised though. Everything is with Dex. And now it’s over. He gets back from picking up some coffee and bagels, and just like last night when he climbed into bed with me, him bringing me breakfast feels too … domestic. The honey, I’m home that he calls out doesn’t help. It’s like a real marriage. Minus the sex. Although, from all the countless jokes there are about marriage meaning sex stops, maybe this is the real deal.

“Well, I did it,” Dex says. “What, you want me to grovel at your feet for getting me breakfast?” “I mean I got married. I did it. And it wasn’t a big deal.” “Maybe it wasn’t a big deal because you knew it wasn’t real.” Of all the details I do remember from last night, one is hazy. “Fuck, where’s the certificate thing we signed?” “Calm down. It’s in my jacket pocket.” “Good. The last thing we’d want is for it to be lost in a random Vegas bar. Could you imagine if someone found it? The media would be all over us.” “Yeah, that wouldn’t be a fun PR day.” Dex slowly sips his coffee, and I get the sense he wants to say something else. And I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it. But I need to. “You going to call Jessica, then?” “I … uh …” Time to put on a brave face. “I know you hate that Jessica and I don’t like each other, but if you want to marry her, I’m not going to stand in your way.” Dex slides over his phone. “I’m not going to marry her. She finally replied to my text.” What do you think, genius? Why do you always need everything spelled out for you? I grit my teeth. This is what makes me so angry when it comes to her. “All I asked for was clarification.” He sounds so dejected. I rub his shoulder. “I know.” “Eh, it’s better this way anyway. Now I can spend all summer with you and not have to deal with her whining about you being my first priority.” My stomach flip-flops, and I know what I should do—tell him I’m busy. Tell him I need some time away from him for a while. But ...

Two weeks with the boys. This is exactly what I need after a long season that ended in a spectacularly disappointing way. I know Ezra a lot better than Anton and Oskar, but they’ve always been cool, and with Tripp here, I wouldn’t give a shit if they were all strangers. We always manage to have a fun time wherever we are.

We drive down a long dirt driveway surrounded by thick tree coverage, and I’m hanging out the window, breathing in the smell of nature, which isn’t something we have a whole lot of in Las Vegas. After another deep lungful, I drop back into my seat. “Did you bring a leash for your dog, Tripp?” Ezra snarks from the passenger’s seat. I ignore it. It’s not my fault it feels good to have the air on my face. Tripp’s in the middle seat between me and Oskar, and I pat his thigh in my excitement. “This is going to be great.” The others don’t match my enthusiasm. In fact, ever since I shoved my bag in the trunk, there’s been a vibe hanging over the group that I can’t put my finger on. Like now. Tripp and Oskar exchange a weird look, and when I glance up front, Anton is watching me in the rearview mirror. Which wouldn’t be an issue if he wasn’t meant to be concentrating on, you know, the road. “Ah. Tough crowd,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. Ezra laughs, at least. “We can’t all be an overexcitable puppy like you. We’re pacing our excitement to last the full two weeks.” “Maybe you need better stamina, big guy.” Tripp snorts, and we trade amused looks. It goes a long way to settle the feelings of not being wanted here. Clearly, I’m being paranoid.

The place is huge. All stone and wood. Single story but taking up most of the clearing. In front of the house is a large fire pit area and then a fuckton of water between us and the distant mountains. Anton whistles. “Welcome to Lake Tahoe.” We climb out and stretch. It was about forty-five minutes from Reno airport to here, but Tripp, Oskar, and I aren’t exactly small, and even the back seat of a Jeep Grand Cherokee has its limits. “Anton and I call the main bedroom,” Ezra says, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Why do you guys get to claim that?” “Because, Plus-One, we’ll need the en suite for quick cleanup.” I scowl at the nickname. I know they’re only joking, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m intruding. Ezra and Anton are being more or less the same, but Oskar has barely acknowledged me at all. He gives me this long look before turning to Tripp. He has the same sort of piercing blue eyes as Ezra, but where Ezra’s eyes always seem like they’re laughing, Oskar’s feel like they’re looking for trouble. His full-body tats add to that impression. His left arm is the only thing bare of ink. “Come on.” Tripp hands me my bag. “Let’s go pick our rooms.”

Anton and Ezra take the first bedroom, Oskar ducks into the second, and I follow Tripp down to the third. He walks inside and does a double take when I follow. “What are you doing?” I dump my bag on the bed. “What do you mean?” “Dude, there are five bedrooms. Get your own.” I blink at him. “We’re not sharing?” Tripp looks like he doesn’t know what to say. “Are you kidding?” “I thought … Ezra and Anton are.” “Yeah, because they’re planning on banging all night.” He takes my bag and hands it to me. “Dex, I love you, but I’m not going two weeks without jerking off. Find your own room.” I almost, almost say we can do that shit together—it’s not like we’re subtle in our rooms at away games. I mean, we don’t talk about it, but that’s the rule on the road. You always pretend you don’t know when the dude in the bed next to you is rubbing one out. But the sharing a bed thing is probably where it crosses a line. I act like it’s no big deal and take my bag before heading down to the next room, wondering if this is one of those things that should have been obvious. It hadn’t occurred to me that we’d have separate rooms. It’s not a big deal, though, because we won’t be spending much time in them anyway.

I have no idea how long I swim for, but when my skin starts to feel more hot than warm, I grab my towel and head in. Anton’s sitting on the huge front deck, wearing swim shorts and a T-shirt, black hair parted as neatly as ever, while he sips a glass of scotch or bourbon or something. Even just hanging out casually, he intimidates me a bit. Where Tripp’s thing is being the sweet one, and I’m the dumbass one, Anton is the one who has his shit together. “Good swim?” “Yeah, it was nice.” I nod at his swim trunks. “You going in?” “Maybe when Ezra gets back. I’m relaxing for the moment. Winning the Stanley Cup really takes it out of you.” “Is that how it’s going to be for two weeks? Constant ribbing by you and Ezra on how you kicked our asses?” “When you go away with two of the most egotistical guys in the league, you really should be expecting it.” I grin because he’s not wrong about that. Hockey players all have a healthy amount of ego, but Anton and Ezra take it to the next level.

where’d he go?” “For a walk somewhere with Oskar and Tripp.” “Tripp?” I turn to look toward the tree line like he’s going to pop out at any moment. “He, umm, he didn’t say he was leaving.” Huh. Well, I guess we never actually talked about going for a swim first; I just assumed he’d join me. When Anton doesn’t reply, I turn to find him watching me. “Maybe he wanted time with his other friends.” “Nah.” I immediately dismiss the idea. “We do everything together.” “You don’t do … everything together.” My face heats. “Do you … are you meaning, like, sex stuff?” Anton shrugs. “Well, no. We don’t do that. Obviously.” Anton eyes me. “Because you’re straight, right?” “Exactly.” He hums. “Don’t you …” “What?” “I don’t think it’s my place.” “Why? We’re all friends. I don’t know you as well as the others, but we’ve got two whole weeks to fix that. You’re important to Ezra, Ezra’s important to Tripp, and Tripp’s important to me. That’s six degrees of best friend shit.” He rubs his jaw, which is darkened by a day’s growth. “Look, I know you and Tripp are close. And you have a great relationship, but don’t you ever think you spend too much time with him?” “Have you met Tripp? There’s no such thing as too much time with him.” And people think I’m dumb. “Look at it this way. Ezra and I are actually dating. We’re partners in crime. We’re each other’s number one. And yet, I chose to stay here while he went off with his friends. I can be his priority without having to be with him all the tim...

As soon as we pass the entrance to the hiking trail, I get whacked on the back of the head. Twice. “I knew this hike was a ruse.” I rub where Oskar and Ezra both hit me. We stop where we are, blocking the path for anyone else coming either way, but we’re the only ones out here that I’ve seen. “Duuude,” Oskar says. I look at Ezra to help. He just shakes his head. “Dude.” I throw up my hands. “Dex and Jessica broke up. What was I supposed to do? Say sorry you’re going through a rough time, but I’m going to leave you here alone while I go on vacation with my friends? You know that would hurt him.” “And bringing him here hurts you,” Ezra counters. “You’re in love with him,” Oskar exclaims. “A straight guy.” They’re not saying anything I don’t already know. “How are you supposed to get over it if you don’t have space from him?” Ezra asks softly. “I’m working on it. Eventually I’ll become desensitized to the way he touches me, the adorable smiles he sends my way, and then it’ll be easy to ignore the stupid feelings that have no right to live inside me.” I don’t know how to be without Dex. I’ve been trying to put distance between us for months, but it doesn’t work, so I need a new tactic. “Look, we love the guy,” Ezra says, and Oskar agrees. “But he’s never going to pick up on your feelings for him, and by not saying anything, you’re not giving him the chance to choose not to hurt you. If he knew how much his affection gets to you, he’d stop doing it.” “Exactly.” I throw up my ha...

Ezra drags a hand back through his hair. “You’re both great people who will do anything for the other, but watching from the outside, you’re pucking disasters.” “Fucking disasters,” Oskar says. “They’re so bad they require actual cursing.” I want to argue, but I really can’t. Well, except in one aspect. “Just because you’re in a relationship now, Ez, that doesn’t mean you know everything.” “Of course it doesn’t,” he says. “I knew everything before Anton fell head over heels in love with me. It’s probably why he fell hard and fast.” “Weren’t you guys sleeping together for months before he’d even admit he liked you as a friend?” Oskar asks. Ezra waves him off. “Meh, technicalities. He was in love with me before he knew he was in love with me.” I rub my chin. “Hmm, would he say the same thing?” “Yup. Just … don’t ask him though or anything. Because … uh … he’s a very private person?” Oskar turns to me. “He’s lying through his teeth.” “Oh, I got that.”

here’s how we’re going to play it. Ezra, you and Anton run interference by inviting Dex whenever you leave the house.” “What if we plan to fuck in the woods?” Ezra asks. “Keep it in your pants for once,” Oskar says. “This is important.” “Wow. What a great … vacation. Where’s the fun in hiking if you don’t get orgasms out of it?” “I think I’ve been hiking wrong,” I mumble. “When we’re in the house, I’ll be all over Tripp.” Oskar turns to me. “Dex will leave you alone if he thinks you’ve got a boyfriend, won’t he?” I don’t tell him how just last week Dex climbed into bed in between me and a hookup. “That won’t work.” “Why not?” “Because you’re you. And I’m me. And you and me …” I shudder. “Whatever. I’m the hottest man you’ve ever been with.” “Except I’ve never been with you, and it’s going to stay that way.” “I’m sure there’s an insult in there somewhere.” “Not at all. I’m not insinuating you’re too much of a manwhore for me, or you no doubt have kinks I don’t want to know about. At all.” “I’m not that kinky. A thing for public sex isn’t kinky. And if you think it is, I feel really sorry for your sex life. Maybe we should hook up so I could teach you a few things.” I hang my head...

Hmm, how to tell my fake husband that I have a fake boyfriend … I’m starting to regret going on this trip.

“Did you have a good walk?” Dex asks. Oskar pulls me to his side and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “We sure did.” I close my eyes and pray for an alien spaceship to arrive and get me out of here. I wouldn’t even hesitate to jump up and down and yell, “Take me! I don’t want to be on Earth anymore!” Dex frowns at Oskar’s arm wrapped around me but doesn’t mention it. “Want to go for a swim?” “We were going to do that later tonight after all you kids are in bed.” Oskar waggles his eyebrows. “If you get what I mean.” Dex’s frown deepens. “Uh, Tripp? Is there something you want to tell me?” “Nope.” Because I can’t lie to him. At least, not about this. I apparently have no problem telling him I’m fine when I’m really, really not, but this is where I draw the line. “Tripp and I are hooking up,” Oskar says. Dex glances at Anton. “That’s what you were trying to tell me earlier?” Wait, what? “Uh, nope. This is new information. Startling information,” Anton says. “He’s lying.” Ezra steps up beside his boyfriend. “We’ve known all along.” Anton leans in close and whispers, “We have?” I hang my head in my hand. “My boyfriend forgets these things easily,” Ezra says. “We fuck each other so hard every night that our short-term memory is affected from hitting our frontal lobes against the headboard.” Dex cocks his head. “Why don’t you have sex facing the other way?” “I think we’ve found where your genius lies—in sexual positions.” Ezra nudges Anton. “I think we might need to give that on...

“I don’t think I want to do this,” I tell him. “You’re the one who made the bet.” “I know, but I thought I’d win.” “Dex will be fine,” Oskar says, still jumping. “We might tease him a lot, but that man is resilient. Besides, look at it this way. By putting space between you two, we’re stopping him from hurting you, which we both know he’d want. I like Dex, but you’re my boy. If that means that I have to be the asshole here, then so be it.” He offers me a pitying smile. “I’m doing this because I care.” I know he does. I can’t be mad at him when he really does think he’s doing the right thing. It hurts to be in love with Dex, and if I’m honest, I do want to get over it, but not at the expense of separating myself from him. I just want the feelings to magically turn off so we can be best friends. This is why I agreed to the stupid plan. If I can get over these feelings, that’s all our problems solved. “Are you done yet?” I ask. “Just what every guy wants to hear during sex,” Oskar says. He jumps higher, the bed creaking with every move. “Come help me. Bang your head against the wall.” I take it serious time is over. “You’re ridiculous.” “It’s why you love me.” “I can say with no uncertainty that is not true. It might be your worst trait.” He continues to jump, and the bedsprings protest under his weight. “You’re wrong. My worst trait is my penis.” I cock my head at him. “Which is damn near perfect. Just like the rest of me.” “Careful, you’re sounding a hell of a lot like Ezra...

When I said for them to do their couple stuff and that I’d hang out in between, I didn’t realize how much couple stuff there would be. Ezra and Anton invite me on a whole bunch of things with them, but every time Oskar and Tripp leave to do something, Oskar makes it very clear he wants Tripp all to himself. After a few days here, I’m beginning to feel a lot like a fifth wheel, and I’m starting to suspect this is worse than sitting around at home whining over a breakup. Actually, no, it is worse. Jessica pissed me off because of the things she said, but I don’t miss her. Tripp is literally right there, sitting across the table from me, and I miss him more than I ever have. But he’s my best friend. And if my best friend is happy, that means more to me than some sulky feelings I’ll get over soon enough.

“What are we doing today?” I ask him, and of course Oskar takes that moment to pop up out of nowhere. “We’re going up to that drop-off.” “Can I come?” Maybe I can push Oskar off it? The leer Oskar gives me makes it clear what he’s thinking. “You don’t want to see what we’ll be doing up there.” He’s right about that. I really, really don’t. And not because of all the gay sex but because anytime Oskar gives Tripp any amount of affection, it makes me … on edge. Tripp doesn’t look like he enjoys it, and maybe that’s because he’s never been big on full-blown PDAs or because Oskar is so nonstop about it. Oskar isn’t acting all that differently toward me, but every time he touches Tripp, this little voice in my head insists he’s staking his claim. On my Tripp. I cross my arms and slump down in my seat. “You can kiss your … whatever he is. It’s not like I’ve never seen that before.” My words come out sulkier than they should. “Come on, baby,” Oskar says, hauling Tripp to his feet. “Let’s go get dressed.” Code for sex. I swear they go at it more than Ezra and Anton. I leave before they can get started, determined not to let Tripp see my disappointment at having to spend another day without him. It’s fair. I get Tripp all the time, and he barely sees Oskar. This is the way it should be. It’s fine. Normal. Nothing to be upset over.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Ezra asks. “If I’d known this place was going to be a fuckfest, I would have at least brought noise-canceling headphones.” Anton goes to say something, but Ezra elbows him and says, “We’re taking one of the boats out. Want to come?” “It depends.” “On?” Ezra asks. “Can you drown me while we’re out there?” “I’m sure it can be arranged. Just don’t struggle, okay? Then I’ll feel bad.” “Wow.” So desperate to spend time with me, he’s considering murder. “If Anton hadn’t already said he didn’t share, I’d think you two were coming onto me.” Ezra laughs, but Anton’s still watching me. “Are you okay, Dex?” Oh no. He had to go and ask that, didn’t he? I’m fine, totally fine, but the second he hits me with that question, my throat gets thick and my eyes start to get all wet. I try to push it all down and remind myself that I’m happy for Tripp. If he’s happy, I’m happy. That’s how we work. “Yes,” I squeak. “Well, I’m convinced,” Ezra says. “Anton, help me get the life vests?” I hang my head back on a groan. “No. You two aren’t leaving me to go and fuck too. Doesn’t anyone want to spend time with me on this trip?” “We’ve done nothing but spend time with you,” Ezra points out. “Gotta be honest here, Dex, I’m having a whole lot less sex than I thought I’d be.” And I’m spending a lot less time with my best friend than I thought I’d be. As that thought crosses my mind though, I push it away. There I go being selfish again. I wasn’t supposed to be here, so I...

I pass Oskar walking out. “Tripp’s, ah, having a post-sex nap. Leave him. He hasn’t been getting much sleep lately, if you get what I mean.” He winks like somehow the innuendo wasn’t clear. “Right.” I walk down the hall to the bedrooms, and right before I reach Tripp’s door, I glance back over my shoulder to find Oskar watching me. “I’m going,” I say, stalking to my room and slamming the door behind me. It’s almost like Oskar doesn’t want me around Tripp, which is so damn stupid because we can both make him happy. That’s it. I don’t care what they’re doing this afternoon, I’ll be doing it with them. If they’re having sex, I’ll … I dunno, cheer from the sidelines or something. We can go for a walk, or a hike, or … anything. I don’t want to stop them from spending time together, but Oskar can’t stop me from spending time with Tripp as well. I give it five minutes before I creep back out again, and thankfully, Tripp’s watchdog is gone. I have no idea where he is, so feeling like a ninja, I dart to Tripp’s door and duck inside, holding my breath that Oskar isn’t in there. And judging by the lump under Tripp’s covers, it’s only him. Finally. I cross to the bed, lift the covers, and climb in, snuggling into his side. Tripp shoves me. “Oskar, I said don’t touch me.” “Oskar?” His eyes snap open. “Dex, ah … yeah. Umm, couple rule. He, umm, overheats and is sweaty, and it’s gross sleeping against him. He also farts like crazy.” “Aw … you save your snuggles for me?” It makes ...

“I’m not possessive!” “Who do I belong to?” “Me, but—” He grins. “Shut up.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but when people start a relationship, they want to be that person’s world. Not their whole world, because that’s unhealthy, but the most important part. I think Jessica could sense she wasn’t that for you, which is why she always got so panicked about you spending time with me.” “And Oskar?” “Is making sure you’re not that for me. It’s … time we start … I start …” He puffs out a breath. “I think I want a proper relationship, and I can’t do that—neither of us can do that—when we’re in each other’s way.” But he’s not in my way. I was with Jessica for eighteen months. Which means … Is he saying I’m in his way? “I’ve been giving you guys space. I thought we were having this vacation together, and then I get here and you drop a boyfriend on me. What, because Oskar is here I don’t get you at all?” He sighs. “What am I supposed to say to that?” “Fine. Oskar is so much better than me. Oskar can be your new best friend.” I roll onto my back. Tripp’s smirking face appears hovering over me a second later. “Are you sulking?” “My best friend doesn’t love me anymore. Of course I’m sulking.” “I didn’t say that.” “Sure you did. A second ago. And I quote, Dex, you’...

“Come on, boyfriend, let’s take that hike.” I can’t take it anymore. “No.” I sit up and glare at him. “It’s my turn.” “Dex …” Tripp starts, but I don’t want to hear it. I turn to him. “I get it. He has to be your priority now, but I’m still a priority, aren’t I? When do I get to have you?” “You don’t, Dex; that’s the point.” Oskar’s voice has a warning edge to it. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask you.” “You don’t have to ask me to have an opinion on my friend.” “Don’t you mean boyfriend?” I raise an eyebrow. “Does it matter what he is to me?” Oskar crosses his arms. “At the end of the day, I can give him things you can’t. And if you care about him as much as you say you do, you should be happy to step aside and let Tripp be happy.” “But he can’t be happy without me.” Oskar’s eyes widen. “Are you hearing yourself?” And here it comes, the Dex-is-an-idiot tone. “So sorry you don’t know what it’s like to have a best friend.” “I’m beginning to think you don’t either.” Tripp climbs out of bed to pull some shorts on. “Can you both shut up?” “Nope.” I stand firm. “Come on, Tripp. Dex needs to calm down.” “No, I don’t.” I climb out of bed too because I don’t want to be the only one not stan...

“Oskar, wait.” He was so fast to run out of there, he’s already storming down the beach by the time I get outside, and I have to run after him. Though I shouldn’t have to explain myself. Oskar isn’t actually my boyfriend. I’m just about to reach him when he whirls around on me. “You let him talk you into marrying him?” “No. Not exactly. I didn’t think he’d go through with it. I was there as a supportive friend.” “How …” Oskar can’t seem to get his words out. “How, what?” “How do you do it to yourself, man? I’ve never loved someone before, but I’ve been interested in guys who haven’t been interested in me, and that was bad enough. How do you put up with him being so insensitive to you?” “He’s not insensitive. He legitimately thinks we feel the same way about each other.” “Then why do I seem to fight for your heart more than you do?” “It’s complicated.” A voice sounds behind me. “What’s complicated?” I don’t need to turn to know it’s Ezra, and probably Anton too. “Tripp here got married,” Oskar says. “Did either of you know that?” “Uh, Oskar, I think getting fake married to Tripp is taking your ridiculous charade too far,” Ezra says. “No, no. Not to me.” Oskar levels me with a serious stare—one I rarely see from the manwhore playboy that he is. “You want to tell them, or should I?” “You’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it really is.” “Why don’t we see what they think?” Oskar nods behind me. I take a deep breath and slowly turn. “Okay, here’s the deal. Dex was cont...

Anton’s gaze ping-pongs between us all. “Have you guys ever gotten the impression Dex is in love with Tripp as much as Tripp is in love with him, but he just doesn’t realize?”

“Hear me out,” Anton says. “I had a talk with him when we first got here and you three went for a hike. He seemed lost without Tripp. And I tried to get him to see why he might feel that way without actually coming out and saying it, but he wasn’t getting it.” We all blink at him. “He practically has hearts in his eyes when he looks at him,” Anton pushes. Ezra’s the first to break. “He’s always been like that though.” “And that doesn’t tell you something?” “Nah. No way. No offense, Trippy, but Dex is straight. He’s so comfortable in his heterosexuality that all your gayness doesn’t faze him. That’s super straight.” Anton tilts his head. “Maybe he’s pan. Maybe if Tripp and Dex had the perfect circumstance in which to explore something, Dex could realize he’s fluid.” “Dex is always all over Tripp,” Oskar points out. “I know he’s, uh, oblivious, but if there were feelings there, even he would have picked up on it by now.” “No, I mean—” “You mean, like, a prison situation?” Ezra asks. “That kind of fluid? Where guys can’t fuck women, but they’d rather have sex with their cellmate than their fist?” “Or maybe,” I interject before they can keep going, “Dex and I are really close, and even if it’s painful for me to have him in all the ways I want except sexually, I know it would hurt more to live without him at all.” I look over at Oskar. “And that’s how I do it to myself. If you guys had ever experienced a fraction of what I feel for Dex, you’d understand. You do things that are ...

We get back inside the house to find Dex pacing back and forth in the large living room. “Are you guys cool now? Did you fix it? I’m so sorry. So, so, so, so sorry,” he chants. “I fucked up again because of my stupid mouth, and—” Oskar approaches him, but Dex flinches as Oskar clasps his shoulder. “We’re cool. Tripp and I decided we’d be better off as friends, so go have your vacation with him.” Dex’s mouth gapes while he looks at me. “Tripp?” What’s the best way to cover a big fat lie? With another lie … apparently. Tripp Mitchell’s self-help book, coming soon. “I told you. Oskar farts like crazy. Not relationship material right there.” “I do not,” Oskar says. “Maybe you’re smelling your own ass because you’re full of shit.” “Ah, friend Oskar is back. Yay,” I say. “And friend Tripp is back,” Dex says. “Right?” “Right.” Dex smiles, but then it quickly drops. “You guys didn’t really break up because of me, did you?” Oskar and I share a look. “Nah,” Oskar says. “It just wasn’t right.” “Agreed. We’re better as friends.” Dex’s grin is back. “In that case, race you to the lake for a swim?” It’s one of Dex’s best and worst traits. He’s so quick to trust in what he’s told, which is great for when I want him to let something go. Not so great when he sees clickbait on the internet about official alien sightings confirmed by NASA. I push him out of the way to run to my room for my trunks. “You’re on.”

The second half of the vacation is a million times better than the first. When the guys aren’t interfering and being jackasses, worrying about my heart and my feelings, the tension level drops dramatically. And I think the whole boyfriend situation might have finally clued Dex in about giving me space. Maybe. He hasn’t once tried to sleep next to me, so that’s something. Though it doesn’t stop him from slipping in next to me to wake me up. An elbow to the gut usually helps to make him go away, but today, he’s relentless. “It’s the last day,” he says. “We need to get one more swim in before we leave.” “I can’t. My trunks are all packed. Shame.” I reach blindly behind me and pat Dex’s cheek. “Have fun. I’m going to keep sleeping.” “Nope. Swim. Even if I have to carry you out there myself.” “I’d like to see you try.” “You say that like you think I can’t pick you up.” “You can’t.” “Oh, hell no.” Dex jumps up and rounds the bed. I turn to dead weight as he tries to get his arms under me—one under my knees and one under my neck. All he manages to do is drag me and drop me on the floor. “Ow,” I complain. “Then help me.” “Nope. You said you could do it.” “I’m getting you in that water. End of story.” “Okay.” I continue to lie on the carpet, refusing to move, and when Dex gives up trying to lift me, he resorts to dragging me by my ankles. He grunts while I laugh, even if the carpet stings my back as he pulls me all the way down the hall. “What are you guys doing?” Oskar asks from t...

Oskar goes back inside the house, Dex comes running for me. He dives off the end of the dock, and I suddenly become a shark victim in a horror movie, moving in a circle, trying to see where he is. Something grabs my foot and yanks me down. Dex and I fight and struggle, but it’s hard not to take in water when you’re laughing through it all. This is the epitome of Dex and me. This is us. Everything is fun with him. We goof around. And his carefree attitude is one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The NHL pressure can be intense, especially if you’re having a really good season or a really bad one. When you’re on a winning streak, the need to maintain it could make any player choke, and as a goalie, the pressure is only tenfold. Dex takes me away from all that, and I think it’s why we became fast friends. He’s my escape.