Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He’s right about a lot of things.
The main one being he’ll be the one to pick up my pieces when Dex inevitably wants to stop playing pretend.
We eat in relative silence after that—never come between a hockey player and his food—and then we look up our schedules for the season to see when each of us will be meeting up with the other queer collective guys.
I won’t cross paths with another member until mid-November, but one of Oskar’s first regular-season games is against New York. He’ll be facing Ollie Strömberg, who’s already admitted he’s retiring this year.
The only OG out hockey player left in the league is retiring. I can’t wrap my head around it. The entire reason guys like Oskar and me have a career is because of guys like Strömberg.
It’s the end of an era.
I skip dessert with Oskar because I want to get home. There was something not right with Dex’s behavior. We’ve had bad games before. Faced losses.
It makes me concerned it’s not the game but Fensby and Jessica that’s actually getting to him. I’ve been trying not to think about that all night because I didn’t want to spill my worries all over Oskar. He worries about me enough as it is.
But as I enter my apartment and find Dex on the couch, his head buried in his phone and his dark blond hair falling in his face, it comes flooding back.
I throw myself down next to him and then lean over, putting my head on his shoulder.
He quickly closes whatever app he was looking at, and I missed what was on the screen. My gut sinks. I can’t help reading into that too. Was it Jessica’s Insta account?
“I need to ask you something,” Dex says and refuses to look at me.
“What is it?” I try not to panic yet. It could be anything.
What he does say not only takes me by surprise, I didn’t even know he’d been thinking about it.
“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”
Twenty-Three
DEX
I turn my phone over and over in my hands, waiting for Tripp’s answer. The whole time he’s been out, the question has been eating at me, worrying me. Doesn’t he want to have sex with me?
All I know is if he’s having second thoughts about our relationship, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.
Is he only following through with this because he feels like he doesn’t have another choice? Urg.
“Uh … Dex? What do you think we’ve been doing the past few weeks?”
“No, like …” I make a circle with my forefinger and thumb, then poke my other finger through it.
Tripp cracks up laughing. “Why aren’t we fucking, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
Hearing him laugh loosens some of that dread I’d worked myself up to, and I finally turn to face him.
He has a weird look on his face as he studies me. “I thought you liked my mouth …” Tripp reaches for my dick, and I quickly snatch up his hand. If he touches me, I’ll get distracted again, and nope. We are having this conversation.
“Tripp, I’m serious. Do you …” I clear my throat. “I mean, I read lots of gay dudes don’t do that, so do you just not like it?”
“Nope. I’m pro penetration.”
“So it’s me, then?”
“It’s not …” Tripp presses his lips together, and I think for a second that he’s mad. Then he smiles. “I didn’t realize what we were doing wasn’t enough for you.”
“No, it is. I love it all. But that’s why I want to try it.” And the grossness from today’s game finally starts to recede as excitement at doing this takes over. “Can we? Please?”
“Like I’d ever say no to you.” He grins, but I don’t return it.
“You can though. Always.”
“I know. That’s not what I—”
“Why are you hesitating? Is it a me thing? You don’t want to go there because it’s me? Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t want you to ever think I have a problem with you.” Tripp turns to face me and grips my hands, which are nervously wringing together. “It’s not … you.” Tripp blinks up at me, and I believe him, but it makes me want to ask what is it, then? But I have to admit, I think I’m scared to hear the answer. If it’s not me, maybe it’s us. Maybe it’s the pressure of making it feel good—I get that with chicks sometimes. Performance anxiety can be a bitch, so instead of putting that on him, I back down.
“If you don’t, it’s fine. I’ll let you suck me off instead.”
“My husband. So generous.”
He hasn’t denied it though. Ouch.
“Dex …” Tripp tackles me into the couch and grinds his hard cock into my thigh. “Does it feel like I don’t want to?”
“Well, mini Tripp seems on board.”
“Fuck you. Don’t call my cock that.”
“Oh yeah? Make me.”