Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,17
in the crowd. It was sort of the nicest thing that happened all night.”
Micah blushed and jabbed him lightly with an elbow. “Aw. No, stop it.” He thought about the game he just saw. “Except I get it. That didn’t go your way, huh?”
“Nah, but they don’t always.” Daniel was wearing a suit, or parts of one; his dark blue button-up was untucked and artfully wrinkled, and his shirt collar was unbuttoned and sans tie. He had his jacket over his shoulder, and he looked more like a model than a professional athlete. Micah had forgotten how tall he was, though even he was taller than the last time they’d seen each other.
Not by much, though. He smiled. “I heard you were coming back and I admit, I was curious if you’d remember me.”
“Remember you? My favorite walkie-talkie buddy?” Daniel looked so genuinely happy to see him that Micah told himself not to be disappointed that Daniel hadn’t said my first kiss? Chances are he didn’t even remember that, or didn’t want to. “How are your parents? They still in the old neighborhood?”
“Nope, they moved right after I graduated, but they weren’t too thrilled about my lifestyle. We don’t talk anymore.” Micah changed the subject. “But I’m still friendly with some of the neighbors we had, like...you remember Thelma?”
“The cheesecake lady?” Daniel laughed. “Not as much as I remember her cheesecake. Remember that time we got in trouble for playing spies and looking in her windows at night, and no one believed you were just trying to figure out what her secret ingredient was?”
“I forgot about that,” Micah said, remembering fondly what it had been like, running around outside in the warm, humid Miami nights, dashing in and out of neighbors’ yards like there was no such thing as trespassing. “I think it was rum.”
“Oh man, it’s good to see you.” Daniel ran a hand through his hair, which still looked a little damp, as if he’d just showered. Not an image Micah needed to think about right now, but damn. Daniel looked even better in person than he did on Instagram. “So, what are you doing? Still surfing? Still obsessed with dolphins?”
“How’d you know?” Micah gave a toss of his scarf, which was beginning to seem unnecessary in the stuffy warmth of the room. “I surf with dolphins, very specialized skill. Actually, I do, kind of. I work at the Biscayne Bay Aquarium. I’m a marine biologist. My research is focused mostly on rehabilitation and conservation.”
“No shit? Hey, that’s great! Look at us, living the dream.” Daniel opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, one of the uniformed arena personnel took him aside and said something that was probably please do this on your own time, we’d like to go home sometime today.
“I hate to run,” Daniel said, and he did look genuinely sorry, “but they need to lock up. Can we get together sometime? I want to hear all about it.”
Micah smiled, feeling a warm rush of pleasure at the idea of reconnecting with Daniel in person. “I’d love that. Want my number? You can usually catch me at the aquarium—um, really, not a fish joke—and I can give you a tour, if you want.”
“Are you kidding? That would be amazing. Here, I’ll text you and then you can have my number, too.” Daniel flashed that killer smile, and Micah noticed that contrary to popular myth, all his teeth looked real.
And that was how Micah Kelly got the number of a professional athlete, who happened to be his former childhood bestie and who still, it had to be said, made his heart beat as fast as it did when he was thirteen and thought hey, I think I maybe want to kiss him.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, man! Long time no talk. How’s Miami treating you?”
Daniel glanced up from the turkey he was browning to where he’d propped up his phone while he waited for Tristan to answer his video call. Tristan had appeared on the screen, grinning, and the sight of his handsome, boyish face brought an automatic smile to Daniel’s mouth.
“About the same as the last time we talked,” Daniel replied. That had been weeks ago. Between games and practices, Tristan’s final few classes, and getting the kids acclimated to their new home, texting had been easier than trying to coordinate schedules. Today, it was just Daniel, his dogs, and a list of housework he’d been meaning to get to for days. Dusting ranked among