Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(36)

Gavin avoids my eyes, setting a container of food and plasticware on the table beside his keycard.

“I think it’s fair to say things have…gotten out of hand the past few days,” I tell him. “I admit that I’ve been juvenile with those pranks.”

He still stares down at his feet. His jaw twitches. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “And?”

“And…” I sift through what Viggo and I talked about in our meandering way, what I pushed aside while I focused on drills and scrimmaging today. “I propose a truce. I’ll try to chill out with the provocation. You’ll try not to be a ginormous dick.”

Gavin clucks his teeth and shrugs apologetically. “Can’t help what nature gave me.”

My mouth falls open. “Did you just crack a joke? And a dick joke?”

Silence hangs between us for a long, tense moment. “Seems so,” he finally says, strolling over to his bag.

I watch him, stunned and intrigued. The faintest hint of pink is on his cheeks. Holy shit, Gavin Hayes is blushing. And I know I just promised not to purposefully get under his skin, but that was before I knew I could make him blush.

“Did you know,” I ask him, “that, in absolute terms, the blue whale has the largest penis, but relative to its size, it is far outstripped by the barnacle, whose penis can stretch up to eight times the length of the barnacle itself? Pretty nifty evolutionary trick, if you think about it, given barnacles have to fix themselves—”

“Bergman, for the love of God, stop.”

He’s banging around in his bag. His cheeks are now bright red. “Whatcha looking for in there?” I ask.

“Something to gag you with,” he mutters.

I lean back on my palms. “I’m not into gagging, Hayes. Blindfolds are more my thing.”

He nearly drops his bag, saving it at the last minute with those freakish reflexes. “You,” he says, “are a nuisance. A horny, inappropriate nuisance.”

“You’re the one who led with a dick joke,” I point out.

He sighs as he turns with an armful of clothes in his hands. “Trust me, I regret it. Had I known it would lead us here, I never would have said a word. Now I’m going to shower. And while I’m in there, you’re going to eat.”

He grabs the container I noticed him carrying in, slaps the package of disposable plasticware on top of it, and shoves it into my hands. “You barely ate anything at dinner, and you’ll be useless tomorrow if you don’t carbo-load tonight.”

“I was going to eat a high-carb bar,” I mutter, hearing how peevish I sound as I open the container and unwrap my fork.

He arches an eyebrow. “Inadequate. Eat that. Then, when I come out of the shower, you’re going to go in and shower next. After that, we are going to put all the pillows we don’t need between us on that mattress, and not talk about penises belonging to anything on land or sea, and get some fucking sleep. Understood?”

I peer up at him, a massive bite of grilled chicken and pasta arrabiata giving me chipmunk cheeks. It tastes so much better now that my stomach’s not knotted with nerves. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy as hell?”

He smirks. “All the time. Now eat.”





11





OLIVER





Playlist: “Lay Down,” Son Little





Turns out eating a real meal makes me feel a lot better. So does a bit of teasing with Gavin, who emerges from the bathroom in one of his grayscale outfits—charcoal joggers, black T-shirt, dark hair dripping wet and curling at the ends.

My whole body tightens, an ache settling deep and low in my groin. Looking at him now, replaying when he told me to eat with the kind of concerned command that absolutely turns my crank, I spring off the bed and rush toward the bathroom, before Gavin has the chance to notice how worked up I am.

I haven’t had sex in years. I went through a phase that first year I was with the Galaxy when it felt like all I did was have sex, soaking up the attention, the appreciative gazes and touches and kisses. It felt good. I needed it. I needed to wipe away the sadness I associated with sex because of Bryce. I needed to have sex that was fun and carefree and simply for pleasure’s sake, no feelings, no repeats. But then—and no, I’m not going to analyze the timing—by the time our second season started, it began to feel unsatisfying. What once made me happy started to hurt. I knew why. I was ready again, not for the rush of anonymous release and relief, but familiarity, comfort and cuddles…

Intimacy.

I’ve wanted it. I just haven’t known how or where to find it. The team and all the publicity I do for it is time-consuming. I spend nearly the whole year training or playing. And unlike most other folks, meeting and falling in love with a coworker is off the table for me. I won’t risk anything imploding my joy in my profession or compromising its stability like I let my relationship with Bryce mess with my college career, even if it did end up leading me to make the best choice I could have in signing with the Galaxy rather than staying with UCLA and finishing my degree.

It makes sense, knowing this loneliness inside me, that I’d feel drawn to Gavin after such a long day, after he witnessed my vulnerability and actually showed me compassion for it.

But just because in a way it makes sense doesn’t mean it’s anything I’m acting on. Or acknowledging. I don’t even rub one out in the shower because I know what I’d fantasize about if I did. And that’s exactly the direction I can’t let my mind, body, or feelings wander.