5. KNOX

FIVE

KNOX

"Welcome to my slut era," East slurs and takes another shot. "I'm gonna slut it right up. Puck bucks beware, Easton Kikikishinkis is on the market."

"Kishikin," I correct. Kind of.

He frowns, blinking at me slowly. "Eastkinshin?"

I don't even know what we're talking about anymore.

"Another!" he shouts, madly waving down the very busy bartender.

I hurry to grab his hand and pin it to the bar. "You'll get us thrown out."

"We're not that drunk."

"I dunno …" The bar tilts. "I'm feeling pretty fucked-up."

The smile he gives me would be promising in any other scenario. Any other being that his protective older brother wasn't my best friend, and I was free to drag East out back and have my way with him.

"How have we never gotten drunk together before?" he asks.

"We did. On your twenty-first."

He shakes his head so fast he almost falls off the stool. "No. No, you and Connor barely drank. You watched over me and my friends like … like … apostles!"

" Apostles ?" I go to shove him and miss. "Don't be teaching anyone about religion, ever. Got it?"

"I dunno, I'm pretty good at helping men find God. You'd know that if you weren't somehow immune to all my offers."

My whole face goes warm, and I'm very worried that blush I've worked so hard to control isn't controlling so good right now. "Shut up." I need some kind of medal for my restraint, but at the same time, it's easy not to cross lines when I'm almost certain Easton doesn't actually want to cross lines with me. He flirts with me to piss off Connor, and at most, he does think I'm hot and is willing to hook up, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not willing to set fire to Connor's and my friendship for one sweaty night with East.

"There's been full come-to-Jesus moments in my pants."

"I don't even want to know what that means." Lies.

Two more shots are placed in front of us, and even though the Connor-voice in my head is telling me it's time to call it a night, I'm doing what he asked me to do. I'm looking out for East. Stopping him from getting into trouble. Is it my fault we're not getting into trouble by getting very, very drunk instead?

East picks up his shot, and we knock them together. "To a very charitable charity match."

"And to me not having to throw you or Con off the ice for fighting."

We throw back our shots.

East sways when he slams the shot glass back down. "You're supposed to toast to poss … poss … things that are, you know, that have a chance."

"Be a good boy and it will."

East clamps his teeth down on his pouty bottom lip. "Call me a good boy again."

"You're the fucking worst. "

"Like you can talk. We allll know you're really here because Daddy Connor said. You do everything Connor says. You're like his puppy."

" You were the one who invited me to ref the game."

"Eh, technicality. I'm starting to think Connor has a leash around your balls. And you like it. Ooh, cock and ball torture. Kinky."

"And I've found the answer to why we're never getting drunk together again. You're annoying."

"You're annoying."

"You're annoying-er."

East turns on his stool to face me and has to set a hand on my knee to steady himself. "Tell me the truth. Do you have a thing for Connor?"

I almost cringe in repulsion at the question. Not because Connor wouldn't be a great guy to have a crush on but because one, he is like a brother to me, two, he's straight, and three, I've already pictured doing way too many inappropriate things with his little brother. "He's basically my brother."

"What, so he is, but I'm not? Do you need to take science 101?"

"Do you need to take friendship 101?"

"I have plenty of friends. So many friends. More friends than you can even count to." He's not half-wrong. East was a super-popular guy in high school and college because he's fun to be around. I have no idea how that translates to the dating scene because I refuse to let myself think about it too much.

"Because you're in your slutty slut slut era?"

"Now you get it. Should have let me keep dancing with Ez and Os."

"Os? Sounds like the sound you make when you realize you've fucked up bad. Which you would have. If you kept dancing."

"I dunno …" He gives me a slow, dopey smile that should look dopier than it does on his face. For a hockey player, he's go t the face of a model. And sure, sometimes that face is messed up with bruises or cuts, but that only makes him more striking. "We were all really enjoying it."

"Something tells me that if you'd tried to sleep with any of them, I would have spent the rest of my night looking for your scattered remains. This is way more fun for me."

"You really think I'm that dumb? You're exactly like Connor."

"He doesn't think you're dumb."

"But you do?"

I shake my head so fast I get woozy. "No way. We just want to look after you."

"I'm not a kid."

Yeah, thanks, East. I've noticed that too much already. "Okay, Mr. I need a scandal. You're so cool and mature. Never made a shitty decision, I bet. Totally thinking with your top head instead of your dick head."

"Did you call me a dickhead?"

Umm … my thoughts are a soggy vodka mess. "Did I?"

"I want to get another drink, but I think we're both going to be screwed for tomorrow already."

"Probably should call it quits. Wanna get out of here?"

East drops his head back on a long moan. "You can't use porny pickup lines on me."

"What? What did I?—"

His grip on my knee tightens as he leans into my ear with a deep rasp. "You wanna get out of here, big guy?"

Lust shoots from my ear to my cock. Fuck. No. Distance. Alarm bells are ringing in my ears as I laugh and shove him away. "Come on, horndog. Let's get back to the hotel."

"You're the worst," he playfully grumbles, climbing down off the stool.

I follow him far less gracefully, and East grabs me before I hit the deck. "I think we had one too many vodkas."

"One is an understatement." Easton sets me on my feet, but instead of letting go of me, he settles his arm around my back, so it only feels natural to throw mine around his shoulders.

Besides, we can barely walk in a straight line, and making it out of here without his support is questionable.

We stagger outside into the warm, smoke-hazed air of the Strip and start for our hotel a block away. It's a toss-up whether it'd be faster to walk or catch an Uber. Walking is quicker in Vegas when there's this much traffic, but not the way we're stumbling all over the place. It's a clear night, there are still people out everywhere, and I have Easton Kikishkin in my arms, something I have only ever fantasized about.

Then I'm reminded that it's only platonically, and the lust building in my gut dies a horrible death. A lot like I would if I had Easton in my arms for real. Naked. Calling out my name.

Oh, look at that. The lust is back.

We take up too much room on the sidewalk, and people keep colliding with my shoulder on their way past, but I don't make a move to let go.

"Imagine if Connor saw us like this," Easton says gleefully. "He'd think something was going on." And isn't that proof that he only flirts with me to piss his brother off?

"He knows us better than that."

Easton cackles. "He shouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not like you. Always putting him first." He stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, and we both barely manage to keep on our feet. Easton snickers when he says, "I've wanted to bone you since I was twelve years old. Well. Not bone. Because twelve. But crush. Total crush."

It's hard to piece his words together through my drunky brain, but he doesn't stop talking.

"I used to always think you only hung out with Connor to get close to me. That you had a big crush on me too. That we were destined to be together. "

"Destined?" My heart is drumming faster.

"Oh yeah. Dramatic as fuck." He sways, or I sway— someone sways. "All my notebooks were scribbled with Knox Kishkikin."

"Why do I have to take your name?"

"Because it's awesome. Duh."

"We can't even say it."

He flexes his jaw a couple of times. "Mouth won't work right."

"Mouth is saying a lot of things." A lot of things I want to be true, but I still have that doubt in the back of my mind that it's a ploy to get into my pants and under Connor's skin.

He leans into me. "Am I scaring you? With my widdle crush? Oh no, Connor's brother wants my penis. He's been picturing us getting married and buying a house in the suburbs and having two dogs and an ice rink in the backyard."

I hate how perfect that sounds, except for one part. "I'm allergic to dogs."

"We'll have kids, then."

Kids ? I'd have kids with him. Lots of cute babies. I really shouldn't encourage him, but the question falls out anyway. "What are we naming these hypothetical children?"

"I don't think Fifi or Mr. Box Head is legal for bebes."

"It'd start some conversations though."

"Not sure they're the kind of talkies we'd want to have. Ohh!" East pulls up like he's just thought of something. "Drunk wedding in Vegas!"

"Ah … what?" Why is my heart radically beating like he's even remotely serious?

"We're here. We're drunk. And it'd piss off Connor. My three favorite things. Yay!"

And there it is.

"Dude, your sobession with your brother is creepy." And also tarnishes those happy feelings I get when he's flirting with me. I don't say that part though.

"It's not creepy. "

"Is too creepy."

"He's the creepy one."

"You're proposing to annoy him."

East throws his hands up. "I'm proposing because I'm in love."

My heart stops completely. And then he keeps talking.

"In love with the idea of making Connor's head explode."

"Where's the ring, then, Romeo? Your boy's got standards."

He pulls out his phone. Drops it. Then picks it up and unlocks the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking Prime. I bet I can have one here by tomorrow. You want strawberry flavor or watermelon?" He flicks his screen to me to show those giant ring candies.

"Watermelon, but we'll be sober by tomorrow, so then we can't get drunk married. Sorry to foil your plan."

"Damn. You're right." He shoves his phone away again and falls into my side.

"Wait, you still got me the ring, right? I want to suck on it."

"I have something else you can suck …"

That makes me roar with laughter because I know he's joking. Half of me thinks this whole night has been a joke. The other half wishes the things he's saying were true.

We keep walking, arms around each other, as I shamelessly soak up the scents that make East East . "If I was really going to get you a ring, I'd want to get you a good one." He rubs his face sleepily into my shoulder. "You deserve a good one."

His tone has dipped into serious territory. Territory I want to steer us all the way away from.

"I remember when you were eleven and got a ring out of a cereal box and wore it every day for a month, then you and Lachie got into a fight, and he broke it on you. So you let the air out of his bike tires."

"It was my Stanley Cup ring! "

Stanley Cup ? "It was cheap plastic with a purple heart on the top."

"But it was my cheap plastic with a purple heart on the top. He was just a dick."

"You all were." As an only child, I never could relate to what the three of them went through. "Every second day, you'd all be fighting about something."

He lets out a massive yawn, and luckily, the hotel entrance has come into sight. "Remember when Con first started jerking off?"

Uh-oh.

"He was so mad when I told you that every time he played ‘Firework' by Katy Perry, it was so we couldn't hear him. He really thought we didn't know."

"Hey, what a man does in the privacy of his own bedroom is sacred."

"I don't even want to think about what my brother was telling his cock. Think the song was for getting it going? That's it, baby, let those colors burst."

The image is both hilarious and traumatizing.

"Shoot it all over the sky, you dirty thing."

"Oh my God, stop," I say, covering East's mouth with my hand. "Maybe he really got off to that bra she was wearing."

"Mmm, yeah. Hot with a side of danger. Maybe we have similar kinks."

"I don't need to know what your kinks are."

"Aww … but maybe I really, really want you to."

We reach the front of the hotel, and thank fuck this night is almost over. It's been torture. Spending time with East is like a drug because the more I get, the more I want it again. It's a good reminder that this is why I keep my distance.

"I think it's time for you to sleep off all the booze."

"Like you can talk."

"Oh, I definitely need to sleep off tonight too."

Easton sighs, and as we cross the lobby, we slowly part, putting distance between each other. The room is a brightly lit mess of lights that are messing with my vision, but somehow, we make it to the elevator banks.

Everyone involved with the charity event booked their own hotels, which means none of Easton's Collective guys are here, and no one would know if I ended up in Easton's room. Accidentally. Drunkenly. The only problem is Connor, Lachie, and the Kikishkin parents. Because they're not only in the same hotel, but they're on the same floor. Damn it.

When we get into the elevator, just the two of us, he turns to me and sets his hand on my chest.

"I am in my slut era, you know."

"You said. Multiple times."

"So … kinda want to sleep with as many men as possible."

My heart is pounding so fast I wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it. I swallow thickly. "Okay."

"You're a man."

"I am."

"Then …" He holds my gaze and very slowly moves his hand down my body. I have plenty of time to stop him. Plenty of time to tell him no. Plenty of time to remember how desperately I've always wanted this moment to happen.

And plenty of time to remind myself this is a fast way to end my friendship.

So even though it's the most impossible thing in the world, I catch his hand before he can reach my pants, abs still burning under the feel of his fingertips.

"No."

East pulls away like he's been shocked, and he's suddenly looking a hell of a lot more sober. "Yeah. Of course. Obviously. I was messing with you."

It's the first time all night I get the feeling he's not actually messing with me, but I can't open that can of worms. Ever.

"Of course."

"So, yeah. "

"Yeah."

I bite my lip to stop myself from pulling him back against me. To stop from kissing those lips. But then the longest elevator ride in existence comes to a sudden end, and the doors slide open. My chance is gone.

Which is a good thing.

"Laters," Easton throws out before he staggers down the hall.

I'm at the opposite end, but I don't make a move until I watch him go inside and the door closes behind him.

Then, I have to force myself not to follow him.

Because it was a joke. And if it wasn't a joke, it was only to piss off Connor.

As much as I have a thing for Easton and would fuck him every which way until Sunday, I don't appreciate the way he's obviously set out to use me. He wants to get revenge on his brother, who is only looking out for him, but he doesn't seem to give thought to how hooking up with me would upend my life.

Connor is my rock, my support—I live in his house rent-free. I'm not going to throw away my best friend for a drunken hookup with my dream man.

I'm not.

I can't.

It's that thought that has me marching in the direction of my own room.