“That’s sad,” I replied, tsking and feigning boredom as I shook my head at him, since the truth was that there was way too many scenarios, and all of them linked to desires I rarely shared with anyone.
“What?”
“That you possess such an uninspired imagination.”
“I see.”
“Doubtful,” I shot back. “You see what everyone else does. Rebel the rock star. I’m so much more than that.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“If that were the case, you’d get that there are things I would literally get down on my knees and beg for without a blush or a moment’s hesitation.”
"Hmm," he muttered, side-eying me as he stepped in front of the door, clearly intending to go first so he could make sure thereweren’t any unexpected surprises when we stepped off the elevator. “Such as?”
He sounded like he truly wanted to know, which sucked because that was the moment the elevator stopped, dinging as the doors opened. The look on the hall monitor's, err, guard’s face when he caught a glimpse of me behind Steel was classic disbelief. These guys had next-level training, but I’d always been a notorious shit and an epic prankster to boot, and I didn’t see that ending anytime soon.
“Wha-h-how…” Cyril stammered as I swaggered past him on the way to my door. I could practically feel the smugness oozing out of my pores, smirk firmly affixed on my face as I dug out my key card.
“Yeah, as soon as I figure out how he managed it, I’ll let you know,” Steel muttered, sounding a tad bit exasperated with me.
Oops.
“Traitor,” I muttered as I opened the door.
“Brat,” he said, voice harsh and rumbly.
Of course that meant my brain went straight to my dick, which twitched in my pants as if to remind me that it had been sorely neglected for a while now. Leading him in, relieved that I’d had the foresight to close the door to the balcony on my way down, I couldn’t help but feel proud of the escape I’d pulled off. He’d probably lose his shit if he knew the truth about my little stunt.
Sure as shit, the moment he stepped inside, he started peering around the room, searching for clues. I grabbed the remote off the rumpled bed where I’d left it and turned on the television as I headed for the mini fridge. The room had a kitchenette, which would have been nice if I’d had time to stock it before settling in.
“Hope you like sparkling lemonade,” I remarked as I grabbed two and twisted off the caps. “I usually keep iced teas and tangerine juice on hand, but I’m all out right now.”
“This is fine, thanks,” he said as I handed him one.
“Cheers,” I said, extending my bottle.
We clanked necks and settled in on opposite ends of the couch, in the same intensely interested posture, elbows on our knees, bodies leaning forward, eyes on the television, drinks clutched in one hand. What started as low muttering grew as we forgot we weren’t in a stadium.
“Come on, come on, come on!” Steel growled.
“Oh my god, do you not know how to read misdirection!” I yelped.
“Apparently not,” Steel quipped.
We clapped, groaned, and deposited our half-empty lemonade bottles on the table after we splattered each other when we threw up our hands, forgetting we were holding them. A near goal led to Steel smacking a hand over his face and groaning while I rolled my eyes. That was too damned close. Stomping, whistling, hands curled into fists, my nails dug into my palms as Detroit’s star wing raced towards the Boston goal, with Steel and I on the edge of our seats, waiting to see if anyone stopped him. Steel’s boot hit the base of the coffee table as we leapt to our feet when the puck was swiped right out from under him, three Boston players racing for the other end, passing the puck between them.
“Holy shit!”
“Did you see that steal?" Steel declared.
“You’re damned right I saw it,” I declared, dancing around like a madman.
I wasn’t the only one either. Steel clearly didn’t mind showing his enthusiasm over the final, buzzer-beating score that came seconds later. With Boston winning 3-2, I was more than in the mood to celebrate as we linked arms and danced a messy jig. I’m sure we were pissing off the people below us, but who the fuck cared right now?
“Hell of an ending,” Steel declared as we finally began to settle down.
“Yeah, it was.”