Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Rylan

“W hy are you so stiff over there?” I ask, lying down beside Hayes. It doesn’t matter how physically fit I am, after sex, I just want to collapse in a heap and not get up for days.

“You called me baby.”

I frown. “No I didn’t.”

“What? Are you kidding me right now? I heard you say it.”

Well, that would be a weird thing for me to say. “I don’t remember saying it.”

“I certainly didn’t make it up!” Hayes huffs, which makes me chuckle.

“I believe you. I have no idea what that’s about, though. Must have slipped out in the moment. Sex talk, ya know? Stay there. I need to get rid of the condom. And I’ll get something to clean us up before I pass the fuck out.”

As I get out of bed, I see him frowning.

“What?”

“You’re getting something to clean us up?”

“Jesus Christ. Who were these guys you were fucking? They’re losers.” I don’t give him time to answer before going into the en suite.

What.

The fuck.

Was that?

I called him baby? I can’t figure out why I did that, but ignoring it seems the best course of action.

After tossing the condom in the trash, I wet a cloth, wipe off my dick, and throw it into the laundry basket before grabbing another one for Hayes.

That was…really good sex.

His ass is like a fucking glove.

So tight and perfect.

Definitely the best sex I’ve ever had.

Clearly, those guys he’d been with didn’t know how to bring out that greedy hunger he has every time we’re together, but they missed out, and I must admit, I’m happy he’s exploring this side of himself with me.

After turning off the water, I go back to my bedroom. Hayes is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing his fret face , like he’s unsure what to do. “I didn’t want to make a mess.”

“Sex is messy. Sometimes that’s half the fun. No worries.” I stand in front of him. “Lie down. I told you not to move.”

“I was trying not to get cum on your bed. I’m being nice.”

I wink. “Maybe I like your cum on my bed. Relax. Lie down. You might need to see how I do this so you can do it with the next guy you’re with.” There’s a strange twitch in my chest that comes out of nowhere. What’s that about?

“I’m pretty sure I could figure out how to wipe someone off,” Hayes replies, but still, he lies down on his back. I wipe the drying cum off his belly, then wipe up his groin area, trying to get the cum out of his pubes. His cock fills slightly, and I raise a brow. “I can’t help it! You’re naked, and that feels good.”

“You’re my little sex monster.” I drop the washcloth to the floor, then lie on top of him.

“Are you going to leave that there? It’s gross and—”

I quiet him with my mouth, push my tongue inside and let him suck on it before pulling back. “Shh. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“I should go home.”

“Stay.” What’s the harm in that? We’re buddies who fuck. We can sleep in the same bed. I grab my phone and log in to the app I use to turn off the lights.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you turn off the lights from your phone.”

“Only when there’s a sexy man in my bed and I don’t want to get up again.” I wrap an arm around him.

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“I feel like that’s a boyfriend thing.”

“Are you trying to ask me out? Because you seem to be stuck on that boyfriend thing and how we’re not that.” And honestly, I’m getting a little frustrated at being reminded. Would there be something wrong with being my boyfriend? I feel like I’m a fucking catch. If I wanted to be a boyfriend, that is.

“No! I just wanted…okay, never mind. I see your point.”

“Wow, can you say that again?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Right back at ya.” I nuzzle my face into his neck. He smells like me and, well, sex too. I breathe in deeper, close my eyes.

I don’t know how much time passes, but when I’m almost asleep, Hayes asks, “So your parents are here?”

“Well, not in the room with us right now, but in LA, yes.” I have no idea why he’s asking me about them when we’re naked in bed together.

“And your next game is at home?”

“Um-hmm.”

My response is followed by a beat of silence, then another and another.

“Are you sure the sex was okay?”

I hate that he’s got reasons to feel so insecure, that people have made Hayes believe he’s not good enough. It makes my insides get all twisted up.

“The sex was incredible,” I reply truthfully.

“You said that when we were having it, but you also called me baby and then said that baby was just sex talk, so I thought maybe…”

Shit. I walked into that one, didn’t I? “I swear to you, you’re incredible in bed. Why would I keep coming back for more if you weren’t?” I lift up slightly, resting on my elbow and running my fingers through his hair. “What did The Prick use to say to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please? I’m fluttering my lashes again. You just can’t see in the dark.”

He gives me a soft snicker in response. “He wasn’t blatantly verbally abusive or anything…it’s just the way he made me feel. Or things like, if I didn’t come when he fucked me, it was my fault. He’d never had a problem making someone have an orgasm before. When he wasn’t in the mood, that was my fault too. Really, I know it’s because he was sleeping with however many other people, but he would find small ways to blame me and then tell me it’s okay because he still cared about me or still wanted to be with me, like he was doing me a favor, and then it would just make me feel like I was so lucky to have him.”

I have to bite my tongue so I don’t say what I really want to say. That I’d like to find Malcolm and beat the shit out of him—this coming from a guy who isn’t violent except when I have to throw hands on the ice.

“None of that is true, Hayes. Those are manipulation tactics. I’m not like that. I won’t ever play games with you. I’ll always tell you the truth, okay?” I rub my cheek against his, kiss the soft skin there. I like the feel of his smoothness against my roughness.

“I can’t figure out why I talk to you like this.”

“It’s because I’m awesome.”

I feel his smile more than I see it in the dark. “I never would have known. You’ve never told me that before.”

“I’m a humble guy, what can I say?”

Hayes is quiet for a moment, and I keep running my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. This is nice. I’m not the kind of guy who kicks people out of bed after we finish having sex, but I also don’t lie around caressing them, talking to them, and just being open and real with them either.

Eventually I lay my head down again, but then he says, “I, um…I like this. I’m glad we’re doing it. Not just the sex, but the friendship. I’m probably not very good at telling you, so I figured I would do it now, after you fucked my brains out, which clearly gives me loose lips.”

I laugh, but my heart is beating too fast, feeling soft, which is confusing and doesn’t make any sense. Things feel like they’re shifting around inside me, and that’s a frightening thought. “First, I told you I’d fuck your brains out. Second, I like this too. I’m glad we’re doing it, and third, even when you don’t tell me, I see that you like me.” Because for some reason, I get Hayes. I understand him. He doesn’t have to use words to tell me how he feels.

“Good night, Rylan.”

“Night, cutie.”

*

“Sorry about the mess. Hayes just left a little while ago,” I tell my parents as they walk through the front door and into the living room. The house isn’t that bad, but I haven’t had the chance to do dishes yet after Hayes spent the night last night. He’s been doing that a lot over the last month. He never has me at his place because he lives in a building with a doorman, and seeing me coming and going would draw attention.

Or so Hayes thinks.

And honestly, he’s probably right. The thing is, I don’t care if people know we’re friends, but I can see why that might worry him. I haven’t been through what he’s been through. When the media has something to say about me, it’s because I had a bad game—which hasn’t happened much since we started sleeping together. The first time we lost a game, he was convinced our deal was over, but again, it’s not as if I expected to be undefeated once we started this, but he’s definitely a good-luck charm for me.

But yeah, the online stuff with him was personal in a different way. And if I was sleeping over at his place, it would look to others like we’re more than friends—something I don’t want to deal with either three months before the cup finals, so I guess he’s right.

“No worries,” Mom says as we meet in the middle of the living room.

I kiss her cheek, then look over her shoulder toward my dad, who’s following behind with his cane.

“Hey, son.”

“Hey, Dad.” I give him a hug. It’s been so nice having them here. Between the hockey season and the time I’m spending with Hayes, we don’t get to see each other as much as I’d like, but I’m glad they’re close. They come over to see me often, or we’ll meet for lunch, and it feels nice to be around family.

“So when do we get to meet this friend of yours?” Mom asks as we automatically make our way toward the deck.

That will likely never happen. Hayes always makes sure to leave before they arrive. I’ve told him more than once that as my friend, there’s no reason he can’t meet my parents—Mads is a friend and knows them—but Hayes worries they’ll take one look at us and know we spend a lot of time naked together. I figure that’s because he’s never had a friends-with-benefits situation before. So much of what we’re doing is new for Hayes.

“I’m not sure. He’s pretty busy.” I pull out one of the chairs at the outside table to make it easier for Dad to sit down.

“You ready for the game against Columbus tomorrow?” Dad asks.

“You know it. Your tickets will be there waiting for you.” My parents try to go to as many of my home games as they can when they’re in LA. I still haven’t been able to get Hayes to come to one yet, but I do know he’s been watching every one of my games. In the beginning he tried to hide it, but things have shifted some since that first night he slept over. He’d make random comments about a goal I scored, about me stealing the puck or a hit I took. Now when I tease him about being my biggest fan and watching my games, he just blushes and tells me to shut up. It’s cute as fuck.

“This should be a win for the Rebels. Especially if you keep playing the way you have the past couple of months.”

I grin at my dad’s praise. My good-luck charm has definitely been doing his job.

“Last time you played Columbus, Tibbs got two minutes for clipping you high. Should have been a match penalty. I hate that guy,” Mom grumbles.

I nudge her playfully with my arm. “He better be careful, or I’ll send you after him.”

“He better not mess with my son,” she replies, and the three of us laugh together.

I get up and grab everyone a bottle of water from the outdoor fridge. “You sound like Hayes. He wasn’t much of a hockey fan before we met. He doesn’t know a lot about the sport. When I ended up with that black eye after the game in Edmonton, he was fretting like I was going to have to get something amputated.” I chuckle at the memory. He’d held ice to my head all evening, and when we fucked, he’d griped at me every time he thought I moved too much. I don’t know why he thought I was going to die over a black eye, but I enjoyed being spoiled.

As I set their drinks down, I notice my parents looking at each other in a curious way.

“What?” I sit down.

“You sure do spend a lot of time with this Hayes guy,” Mom says.

“We’re friends.” I shrug.

Dad gives me his thoughts next. “You know it’s okay if you’re more than friends, right? We’ve known you’re bisexual for a long time, and we’ve never had a problem with that. We hope you know that’s true.”

Mom continues. “We just wonder because you’ve never introduced us to a boyfriend before. We don’t ever want you to feel like knowing and seeing are two different things. And now you’re spending all this time with Hayes, yet he’s never at your games or here when we come over.”

My head spins, my body slightly woozy. “Hayes isn’t my boyfriend.”

“You talk about him a lot,” Dad points out.

I do? I guess it would make sense that I do, but that’s just because he’s become such a big part of my life. We do spend a lot of time together. “I talk about Mads, and you’ve never thought he was my boyfriend.”

“That’s because you’ve actually let us see you with Kason, and it’s obvious there’s nothing there. Plus, you don’t talk about him the way you talk about Hayes.”

I’m…not sure how to respond to that. I’m not even sure how to feel about it. I’ve never had my parents think I’m in a secret relationship with someone, and the thing is, they’re kinda right. Hayes isn’t my boyfriend, but we’re a secret, and we’re fucking, and he holds ice to my eye when I get hurt, and cooks dinner with me, and tells me about the times he hangs out with the Jilted Exes—while pretending he doesn’t like it and doesn’t think they’re friends. Then I remind him he does like it, and they are his friends, and he pouts adorably, and I kiss him, and…

My stomach flutters.

Holy shit.

I have a crush on Hayes.

How did I not see this before? It’s bad…really fucking bad. He’s made it one hundred percent clear he doesn’t want a relationship, and I did the same. I’m not supposed to want a relationship with him.

Do I want a relationship with him? And how many times can I think the word relationship in like five seconds? Now is not the time to be feeling this. It’ll mess everything up. Changing the rules with Hayes will make me risk losing him. And even if that doesn’t happen, the way things are now works. Am I supposed to have my first boyfriend this close to the end of the season? What if dating changes this good-luck juju between us?

“Rylan? Are you okay?” Mom asks. “You look a little pale, and you’re staring off into space.”

My mom’s words don’t compute. At least, I can’t make myself answer yet. I’ve been calling Hayes baby every time my dick’s inside him. I don’t plan it. The endearment simply falls out, and now we just go with it. I have a billion nicknames for Hayes, and apparently, my sex nickname for him is baby , which is something else I’ve never done with anyone. Did my subconscious know I was crushing on him before the rest of me? I’d still be blissfully in the dark if it wasn’t for my parents.

“I think he’s coming to a realization,” Dad tells Mom.

That snaps me out of it, and I lean forward, resting my forehead against the table. “Oh my God. I have a crush on Hayes.”

“Did you not realize it until this moment? The last two weeks, I could tell by the way you talk about him.” Mom rubs my shoulder.

“I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Dad tells me.

“Oh, believe me, I am. This is a mess.” They don’t know the whole story. Of course, I’m not going to share with my parents that Hayes was a one-night stand who is only sleeping with me for sexual experience, or that I’m only supposed to be sleeping with him because he’s good luck. And that’s without even taking into consideration that he’s part of the Jilted Exes, so he has a lot of hang-ups. Hayes is right—and people will make a big deal online about him dating a hockey player from the game where he proposed to his cheating boyfriend. Even if they didn’t talk about that part, Hayes having a public relationship would dredge up the Jilted Exes stuff, which has started to calm down. It would be impossible to date me without it being public, without it becoming a think piece or a hot topic or a subject for people who like to sit around and talk about other people’s lives.

“Why is it a mess?” Mom asks, and I sit up again, making her hand fall away. I can’t even think right now.

“Too many reasons to count.”

“Just tell him how you feel,” Mom adds, and my eyeballs nearly fall out of my head.

“I can’t do that! That’s the worst advice ever. Especially not right now.” It will make Hayes run, and I’m not ready to lose him yet.