Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,18
He didn’t wait for an answer, “Two really gorgeous guys, and I slashed you so hard.”
“‘Slashed’?”
“You and Ten, kissing and all kinds of romantic storylines in my head, it’s what teenagers do, you know; you can’t tell anyone though, because now you know an embarrassing story about me, and we’re even.”
It took me a moment to process. “You’re not angry about what was posted?”
“That you had a thing for my stepdad? You’re a red-blooded bisexual male, you’d be an idiot not to. Well, at least, I assume you’re bi, given the whole nearly married thing, unless that was—”
“Bi, yes, but I promise you it was a crush on him, and I’d never act on what I used to feel about Ten—”
“You mean try and get between Dad and him?” Ryker huffed and then sidled closer and elbowed me in the side. “Dude, you’d be on the losing side there; besides, my old man still has some moves.”
I wanted to confide in Ryker, thought maybe I had a friend here, I wanted to tell him how Vlad had pretend-kissed me, and that he’d made me feel like shit, but I didn’t. I’d shared things like that before, with Lacey, and look where that had gotten me.
“So, are there any other secrets your ex is going to reveal?”
I couldn’t think of any truths that she could pass around like candy, hoping to win friends and influence people. I thought the Ten thing was probably the worst of it. Oh wait, there was one more thing.
“I cried at the end of Titanic, and A Dog’s Life,” I admitted, “and that is not what big, strong, physical hockey players do.”
Ryker pulled out his phone, and in a few keystrokes he’d done something on Instagram, and my phone vibrated, because, of course I followed the guys on the team who had social media accounts. Ryker’s was one of the most vocal, for LGBTQ+ inclusion, for pranks, for puppies, kittens, kids in need. He posted nearly every day with one thing or another, and a lot of times it was of him and his gorgeous Jacob.
“Look at your phone,” Ryker instructed.
I pulled out my phone, clicking the notification that he’d posted, and I couldn’t help a snort of laughter. I read out his post, “Is it just me who cries at the end of Titanic and A Dog’s Life? Asking for a Friend.” Then there were the additional yes and no options, and even in the few seconds it had been live there had been votes.
“Get out ahead of it, see?” Ryker murmured. “Anyway, we need your help dude, Apollo is threatening to serve up emu steak on the barbecue, wanna go see?”
As long as I don’t have to talk to Vlad. “I’ll be right up.” Then, as soon as Ryker had fist-bumped me and left, I pressed the No button on the Instagram question, and in doing so I owned the fact that I cried as well, and it wasn’t a secret anymore.
I still had to face the Railers, I still had to play Tennant Rowe and be able to look him in the eye and own that as well, but hell, I was a grown-ass man, and I could do that in a heartbeat.
So I headed back and entered into the jokey debate about how great emu steak would be, particularly with proper Texas barbecue sauce, and it only ended when Colorado sat on Alex’s head.
Vlad was nowhere to be seen, and a small part of me was concerned. Of course largely, I remained angry that he’d decided to join in on the pranking in such an intimate way, kissing me for God’s sake, still, where was he? Maybe he hadn’t been pranking me, maybe he had, but I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him, so armed with two plates of food, I headed for the last place I’d seen him, and found him with ease. He was sitting on the grass by the water, in a lotus position, and for a second I wondered if I was interrupting some weird-ass middle-of-a-party yoga session. Then the anger thing pushed to the front and I whistled, a little pleased when he jumped and unfolded himself. I thrust the plate of food at him as he stood. He fumbled, then caught it, before placing it with care on the ground
“I apologize,” he ground out, “it was inappropriate—”
“Just because I had a thing for Tennant Rowe doesn’t mean that anyone can just—”
“You