Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,76

at his apartment?”

“We don’t order in that often. Hugo likes to cook!”

“Likes to cook or would rather cook than be seen having dinner out in public with you?”

I move my mouth certain that it’s the former because that’s what he’s told me.

Because that’s what he’s always claimed.

Because that’s what he’s led me to believe.

Or, maybe…is that just what I want to believe?

Or, maybe that’s just what he said to shut me up?

To stop me from whining about something else because I already whine about so fucking much?

“Let me guess. Most of your dates are you two hanging out at his place – you know which is easier to justify you being at as just another campus student swinging by to get one of his shakes – and usually when he has time?”

“I-”

“Those seshes always include squeezing in a quick fuck, right?”

“N-”

“And, that fuck always happens just before you’re kicked out for the night, huh?”

“I don’t get kicked out!”

“Asked to leave,” Jevin villainously smirks, “my bad.”

“I-”

“When you’ve had enough of riding Rhinehart’s dick and you’re ready to come back to me like you always do…text me.” He slowly begins to back up. “Number hasn’t changed.”

Still stumbling over the thoughts and the words that didn’t manage to make it into the conversation has me standing in place frantically moving my mouth regardless of our increasing distance.

A loud scoff eventually escapes and propels me the direction I was headed when he so rudely invaded my already uneasy morning.

He’s wrong.

I know he’s wrong.

Okay, I think he’s wrong.

He has to be.

Hugo doesn’t hide me.

Although…his friends had no idea I even existed before our first weekend together.

But, that’s not because he was purposely keeping our friendship a secret or anything. It wasn’t because he was ashamed of me.

I slowly stomp up the stairs with that uncertainty spiraling.

Or, is he ashamed of me?

Ashamed that he’s sleeping with a guy instead of a girl?

Is that why he goes to action movies with his friends and their girlfriends, but all we get are 90s Angela Basset movie marathons on the couch?

Is that why he’s never asked me to make one of those stupid “Go No. 9” signs that the three girls I’ve come to adore held up during the two games I’ve been to?

Does he not want the world to know I’m on his side for hockey shit in a deeper way?

Stabbing at the code to give myself access to his apartment, I take in a deep breath prepared to belt out every single accusation that’s spinning around like a drunken ballerina in my mind. To my surprise, Hugo isn’t in the kitchen where I expect him.

He isn’t at the blender with a bright beam and good morning.

He isn’t impatiently waiting for me to walk over so he can have me back in his arms where he says I belong.

Where in the fuck is he?

“Hugo?”

“Late!” The shouted one word is proceeded by him rushing down the hall, fumbling around in his gym bag. “I’m gonna be fucking late.” He brushes past where I’m lingering near the front door to retrieve something from his living room. “And, when one of us is late, we’re all late and Peck punishes the fuck out of us.” I watch him stuff his tablet into the bag. “I am not in the mood for more speed drills nor am I in the mood for an extended session.”

“How are you late?”

“Late enough.”

His vague answer adds to the irritating uncomfortableness. “But, you’re never late. How could this shit magically happen all of a sudden?”

“I think I hit a wrong button on my phone or some shit.” He doesn’t look up from the search he’s begun around the arm of the couch. “I’m not actually late, yet. I can still prevent being late by skipping my shake and slightly speeding.”

The announcement instantly has me grumping, “But, I got my ass up early and came all the way over here to have that fucking shake with you. I really need…one of your magical potions.” Jevin’s face flashes briefly in my mind. “Particularly one with extra apple.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time to make you one, Crash.” The power cord finally reaches his grip. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

Hugo’s face whips my direction in obvious annoyance.

“You don’t even sound like you fucking care that I came over at all.”

His brown eyes roll in silence as he returns to zipping up his gym bag.

“Do you?” I mindlessly push despite the tapping in the back of my brain to stop. “Do