Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(15)
I fail miserably.
“Guess the drugs are kicking in.”
I follow his gaze to where my dick is trying to say hello under the thin hospital gown.
Way to go, Shane. You’re killing it at embarrassing yourself.
“Right. The drugs are doing it.” Even though I’m pretty sure limp dick is a usual side effect, not the other way around.
We stare at each other, and I swear the tips of his ears turn pink. Dunno why he’d be embarrassed when I’m the one who’s hard.
“You still need to take a leak?” Talon asks. “I carried your ass across campus the other day. Twenty feet is nothing.”
If he’s willing to ignore the giant boner in the room, then I am too.
“What’s your pain level at?” Talon asks when I struggle to get out of bed.
The smirk on his face lets me know he’s messing with me. Any time we’ve got an injury, our trainers constantly ask what the pain level is, and it’s beyond annoying.
“I dunno, but my bullshit level is at a zero, so how about not giving me any.”
“Clearly, they haven’t given you enough drugs if you’re this grumpy. Then again, if they give you more, you’d probably poke me with that monster boner you’re rocking.”
“You wish.” The quip rolls off my tongue like it would if I was smack talking any of the team, but this time, it makes me pause. It’s different with him.
“Maybe I do.”
It’s a joke, I know that, but my body doesn’t. I nearly stumble and fall on my fucking face.
“Whoa.” Talon catches me and wraps his arm around my waist, while I put mine around his shoulders. “One joke about your dick, and you’re falling for me, huh?”
When I stare at him as if he’s lost his head, he acts as if he never said anything out of the ordinary. Either these drugs are better than I thought or he’s flirting with me.
It has to be the drugs. Straight guys don’t flirt with other supposed straight friends.
“I’m messing with you, man,” he says and squeezes me tighter. “If you can’t laugh, you’re only gonna cry, and you know I’m allergic to that stuff.”
“Tears?”
“It’s like my kryptonite. It sucks all my awesomeness from me.”
I’d like to suck something from him … Okay, I don’t think I can blame the drugs for that thought, but I’m milking the drugged-up situation as long as I can.
He smells of disgusting locker room soap, yet I can’t help breathing him in.
Still as pathetic as you were six years ago.
I’m still thinking of the one thing that will never happen while openly ignoring that reality by pining for and perving on my old best friend.
At least the walk to the bathroom helps deflate my cock with the pain in my leg coming back full force.
It takes two years to get into the bathroom. “Probably shoulda used the plastic urinal thing by my bed,” I grumble.
“Need me to hold your dick?”
Yes, please. “I’m all good.”
While I drain the snake, Talon stands close. Like, crossing personal boundaries close.
When I’m empty, I drop my hospital gown to cover my cock again. “You mind?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I’m reminded of the morning we woke up next to those girls and how Talon was so carefree about free balling it in front of me.
It hurts that I can’t return the same level of comfort around him, but when he’s near me, my skin tingles and my gut tightens with expectation and want.
My brain imagines his hand trailing down my shoulder, my back, and then down to my hip.
“Mmm, these drugs are good.” It literally feels like Talon’s touching me.
“You okay?” he murmurs, and his voice is impossibly close.
That’s when I know it’s not the drugs. I’m not imagining this.
Talon’s behind me, his hand on my hip and his warm breath in my ear.
“What are you doing?” I garble. It sounds like I’ve been chewing on gravel.
“Wanna know something weird?”
Is he gonna say the way his hand still rests on my hip over my less-than-sexy hospital gown is weird? Because I’d agree.
“What’s weird?” I ask.
“When you went down on the field tonight, my heart stopped, and I wanted to trade places with you. I wish I could take away your pain, because you’re the best guy I know, Shane.”
He never calls me Shane. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but to me, it means everything. It means he doesn’t see me as just a teammate. Not that I ever thought he did, but the simple use of my first name makes me even more pathetically stupid over him.
“And I can deny it all I want—tell everyone I signed with the Warriors because it was more money—but watching you tonight and helping you struggle right now, I know that it’s a lie. I’ve been lying to myself for months.”
“What lie is that?” My question is so quiet, even I barely hear it, but Talon moves in even closer.
“I moved to Chicago because I missed you. It’s simple, really.”
Chapter Seven
TALON