Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

HUGO

More than anything, I love coming home to Torin. I get excited as soon as I see him standing there with pink cheeks and eyes wide. My chest gets all warm and tight as my stomach dances wildly.

I drop my gear and close the distance, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him fiercely. We don’t speak for a minute, and his grip on me is just as tight as mine on him. It means a lot that he misses me as much as I miss him when I’m away at games.

“Do you think anyone would notice if I stowed you away in my suitcase?” I ask.

Torin grins. “Yes. But maybe I can be a puck boy or something.”

“Like a puck bunny?”

He turns his face into my neck, and I can feel it heat. “No! Like a ball boy. Someone who gathers errant pucks or something.”

I give him another squeeze and then step away. “Come with me. I have to wash my clothes and my pads.”

“How do you wash your pads?”

“Some pieces I put in the washer on cold with mild detergent. But most of the time I just fill the laundry tub with warm water, detergent and sometimes something like the oxi-stuff, depending on how bad they are. They soak like stew for a half an hour or so and I wipe them down and then let them dry outside.” I shrug. “Nothing exciting.”

“Oh. You do that a lot?”

I shake my head as I haul my bag with me. “Nope. I have several sets just so I don’t have to, but once a month or so I’ll spend half a day and wash them all. It’s like underwear—they’re only good for only a certain number of wearings.”

“One right?” Torin asks, raising a brow. “You wear underwear once before washing them.”

With a wide grin, I face him and put my hands on my hips. “You already know I don’t own a single pair of underwear.”

Torin’s eyes drop to my crotch almost reflexively. His cheeks heat, predictably, and I grin.

“But yes, once. Although with hockey gear, I usually go a week with each set. Sometimes more, sometimes less; depends on what the week holds. It’s worse when I go for like fifteen days of travel games. It doesn’t happen often, but yeah, that gets a little uncomfortable. I usually dump them in one of my hotel tubs with some sensitive skin body wash or something about halfway through the trip. Just to get the first layer of sweat and stench off them.”

“Eesh,” he says and leans back against the vanity to watch me dump out my gear.

“So…” I’m not sure why I’m so nervous to talk about this. “Remember the girl I told you about? The one I’ve been texting with?” I ask as I start to fill the tub, checking the temperature. You should never use hot water so I use tepid. Like baby bath water.

“Yeah.”

“We talked for a long time last night.” I peek at him over my shoulder. Torin is chewing his bottom lip, not looking at me. “We’re going to meet tomorrow. A date.” My nerves make my stomach feel tight and heavy. Like there’s something far too big there and it’s pressing against everything. Making my skin and muscles feel like they’re competing for space in my body.

I reach under the sink and pull out the detergent and oxi-shit. It’s been longer than I usually go between washing this set, so I definitely want to use all the goods. This is a way to distract myself at any rate, since I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell Torin.

“That’s good,” he says.

“Yes,” I agree.

The truth is, I’ve been kind of waffling, but I don’t know why. It seemed like a fantastic idea while I was talking to her last night, but this morning, my one and only thought was Torin. Since I woke up, I haven’t understood why I was feeling so weird about this now.

Why would Torin care who I go on a date with? Why does it bother me that maybe I’m doing something wrong?

“I’m taking her to Antonio’s,” I add, already regretting that decision. That’s my place. What if this date goes horribly bad? Then I have that memory to contend with there. I’d rather keep it to myself.

“She’ll love the food,” he says.

The tub is about halfway filled when I begin pushing my pads into the water. Like a burger, you have to soak on both sides, so I’ll leave them like this for a while.

Getting to my feet, I look at Torin as I walk by him and back toward the foyer where my clothes are. Now, I know you’re not supposed to wash suits in the washing machine, but these are off the rack cheapies, and they’re required. Not something comfortable that I love. I hate wearing a suit. I look frumpy and exposed in them.

Yes, I’m exposed in everything I wear, but that’s why I’ve made the conscious decision to only wear sweats when I can help it. That’s within my control. It’s a choice.

When wearing something that you’re supposed to look dapper and sophisticated in… an outline of your fat dick kind of ruins the look. So I wash my suit pants since they’re nothing special.

When the washer is going, I finally turn to face Torin, having run out of reasons to avoid his eyes. “Is that okay?” I ask. I kind of hope he says no.

His eyebrows knit together, and he glances at the washer. “I think most people would tell you that those clothes should be dry cleaned,” he says.

At first, I’m confused. But then I realize he’s not been in my head for the past few minutes, and I grin. I yank him by his hand toward me and hug him again. “Want to cuddle for a while?”

Torin sighs. “Yes. Definitely.”

I’m hungry, but not so hungry that I’d rather eat than cuddle with Torin right now. So I drag him upstairs and into the den that’s become ours, then pin him between my body and the couch. My entire body relaxes when I’m wrapped around Torin. I love everything about this.

“Is it okay if I have a date?” I ask.

“Why do you think I should have an opinion on that?” Torin counters.

That’s a good question and I really don’t know. “I’m unsure if it’s a good idea,” I admit. “What if…” What if it goes well and I’m not supposed to cuddle with Torin anymore? Does the potential that it might affect our relationship justify him having an opinion? “I don’t know,” I say eventually.

His leg hikes up mine and I snuggle in a little tighter. I’m not surprised to feel his dick half hard. Hell, mine is too. I love how we’re so alike in that way. It would be super awkward if only one of us had a badly behaved dick that liked to be hard during cuddles. But since we’re both a little hard, it makes it okay. We’re the same in that.

Probably. Online says it’s not normal to get hard with your friends all the time. I explain that away because what you read online isn’t always true. Especially when it says you’re definitely not supposed to cuddle with your friends either. There’s a meme that advocates for normalizing platonic cuddles. I agree with that. This is a platonic cuddle, right? It’s platonic because we’re friends and not lovers. That’s my understanding, anyway.

“I think if you really like her, then yes. But… just… go in with an open mind.”

I’m not sure what that means, but I nod. “Okay.” It is okay. I’m allowed to date. Maybe I’m so… uneasy about it because I’ve never dated before…? This is my first ever date! At twenty-eight. Should that be concerning?

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I blurt.

Torin chews his lip as he looks at me. At first, I think he’s going to agree, but then he looks… determined? Resolved. “You should go,” he says .

I’m not sure why that makes my heart hurt. Of course, he should want me to go. Friends encourage friends, right?

I nod, unsure why I feel sad. And hurt. I shouldn’t feel either. I don’t even understand why I feel either.

“Will you be here later?” I ask, hopefully.

Torin is chewing on his lip again as he studies me. “Yeah,” he whispers. “If you want me to be.”

I nod resolutely. “Yes. Please. Definitely be here.” Because I feel like maybe I need a hug right now, I pull Torin to me and wrap him up in a tight hug. “I really need you here after. Promise me?” I murmur.

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Sighing, I keep myself wrapped around him. His fingers dig into my back. I love when they do. It makes my insides feel all tingly and happy.

But there’s something almost sad hanging between us right now. Something that’s making me feel like I’m struggling to breathe. I’m not sure why I feel as if this is some finality. Like when Torin leaves, I won’t see him again.

“Good.”

He nods and takes a step back. I’m hesitant to let him go, so I just stare at him. He’s just… beautiful. Have I always thought he was beautiful? I know I’ve always thought his eyes were. They’re so uniquely colored; I’d love to stare into them forever. And then there are his pink lips—not too small and not the kind of faded skin tone that practically blends in. They’re bright. Not like lipstick just… distinct.

I’m now staring at his lips as I lean in a little closer. I want to memorize their exact shape. Do they feel as soft as they look? Absently, I lick my lips.

Torin steps away and I blink out of my thoughts. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

I watch as Torin walks out my front door and climbs into his car. I’m not even sure where he’s going. “You have your key?” I call after him.

Torin glances at me and nods. “Yep.”

Then he’s driving away. It feels like he’s taking my breath with him and it’s a struggle to take another .

“It’s fine,” I insist to myself. “He’ll be right back. I have a date to go to.”

Resolutely, I climb into my car and head down the road toward Antonio’s. I drive by it initially because… Well, I don’t have a reason. I’m not ready yet, I guess. But when I go around the block and come back, I pull into the parking lot.

Then I circle the lot twice. Not because there isn’t parking. There is. A lot. But because I’m not sure I want to be here. This shouldn’t be so hard. Are dates supposed to make you feel this way?

When my phone makes a noise, I stop driving in circles and pull off to the side. With my foot firmly on the brake, I pick up my phone. I received a text from my date. It’s a picture of an orange flower on a table that’s clearly at Antonio’s. She’s there. Waiting for me. She has a single orange flower with her so I can identify her.

I still think I should cancel. I can just tell her I’m a piece of shit and I chickened out. That maybe… maybe there’s this guy I kinda like and I think maybe he might kinda also like me. But is that weird?

What it is, is shitty. She’s already here.

I park my car in the nearest vacant spot and get out, determinedly walking to the front door. Whether this goes well or not, doesn’t matter. I think I really like Torin and I’m going to tell him that when I get home. I think I was hurt because he wanted me to date someone else. But if he knows I’d rather he go on a date with me instead, maybe… he’ll feel differently?

Stepping inside, Tony is there to greet me. I think he lives here. “Hi, Tony.”

“Hugo,” he says warmly.

“I’m looking for an orange flower.”

“Ah,” he muses, a warm smile on his face. “Your usual booth. Margerie will be bringing you wine soon.”

I nod, though I’m not sure I like wine.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the dining room and head for my booth. She’s looking at her phone. Her hair is short and blonde with dark roots. So much like Torin’s. In fact, as I get closer, she looks a lot like…

Torin looks up and I just stand there dumbly. Staring. I don’t understand what he’s doing here. I’m supposed to be on a date .

He raises his phone and takes my picture. A second later, my phone pings in my hand. But all I can do is look at him, confused.

“Look at your phone,” he says quietly.

My hands are slow to work, but I manage to look away from him long enough to pull my phone from my pocket. It’s not a notification from Torin, though. It’s from the girl I’m supposed to be meeting. Did Torin somehow get her number and… force her to leave so he could be here instead? How did that even happen?

I click on it and find a picture of me. I’m wearing just what I am now… Wait. Is that right now? That’s the picture Torin just took of me, right?

As I’m staring at my screen, another message appears.

7493

My name is Torin Jonah. I’m the mascot for the L.A. Golden Tides. Hi

My breath whooshes out of me as I stare. How is he even doing this?

Picking my head up, I meet Torin’s eyes. He looks terrified. My chest tightens at that look because it’s directed at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly. “I accidentally texted you that first time when I didn’t mean to but… you texted back. And I thought that maybe… maybe we could be friends. Then you asked me to hang out and I just… I didn’t want to lose that. I was scared. I’m sorry I lied to you. Please don’t hate me.”

Wait a minute… Torin is the girl I’ve been texting with? My eyes scan down his body, all on their own. I’ve felt his body. I’ve felt his dick. Hell, I’ve seen his body naked. Torin is not a girl. Why did he tell me…

He didn’t actually tell me he was a girl in the texts, did he? I glance down at my phone again, trying to remember back to the beginning. He didn’t. He never once used pronouns for himself. Why would he really, unless you’re talking about yourself in third person and that’s plain weird. I just assumed he was a girl!

“Hugo?”

My eyes snap back to his. He looks like he’s going to cry.

“Please say something.” His voice is shaking, and so quiet I can barely make out his words .

After locking my phone, I slip it into my pocket as I slide into the booth beside him. There’s no plan as I crowd in on Torin. None at all as I take his face in my hands and do what I’ve been dying to do for weeks now.

I press my lips to his.