“Thanks.” He stepped by me.
“We’re having tuna casserole for dinner, by the way.” I watched him set his duffle next to a box on his mattress. Though he was from Vancouver, he had lived for a decent amount of time in Chicago, so he might know what we were talking about.
“Yeah? Sounds cool.” He opened his bag and pulled out some black athletic wear. “We all hitting the gym tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.” I did a double take of Mason, staring at me with a grimace on his face. “What?”
“Tuna? Casserole?” He fake gagged. “No fucking way am I eating that shit.”
“Fine, then you can order some pizza or something.” With a tut, I made to head into the main room and wait for Tyler.
Jonah stood in the middle of the hallway, one hand on the wall and the other on his hip, glaring down Mason. “It’s my mother’s recipe and it’s fucking awesome. You’ll eat it and shut up.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mason said, “You’ll have to shove it down my throat?—”
“That can be arranged.” Huffing a laugh, Ace lumbered out of his room and grabbed Mason by the back of the neck. “In fact, I think there’s a can of tuna waiting for you in the kitchen right now.” He pushed Mason down the hallway by his neck.
“No fucking way! Get off me, you heathen.” Mason flailed his arms, stumbling along. “Help me, someone get this brute off me!”
“Don’t be such a baby.” Ace shoved him all the way into our older, 1980s style kitchen that still had the older element burners on the stovetop.
I followed along with Jonah, both of us snickering into the backs of our hands. The fun was only getting started. We loved picking on Mason. Not sure why. Maybe to break his cocky persona down a notch?
“Please don’t make me eat tuna out of a can. I hate that shit.” Mason hung his head, ambling along like he’d given up.
Ace stopped him in the middle of the kitchen, then focused on me and Jonah and snapped his brows up. “What do you think, boys?”
“Ah, leave him be. I don’t want to be cleaning up his puke later.” Chuckling through a huff, Jonah waved Ace off.
“You’re lucky.” Ace freed Mason and laughed sharply. “How did you get to be such a picky eater? Did your mommy cut the crust off your sandwiches, too?”
Mason straightened his shoulders. “Yes. So?”
With a hearty laugh, Ace said, “Fuck man, love you.” He wrapped him up in a bear hug and spun him around.
“Love you, too, Ace.” Mason hugged him back, then as Ace set him down, he planted his hands on Ace’s cheeks and gave him a sloppy kiss.
“Dude, not like that.” Ace wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
Mason cackled. “Gotcha.”
My gaze caught movement out the front window. “Hey, Tyler’s here.” I hightailed it out the front door and to his truck, parked in the driveway. Finally, everyone was home. My heart soared. These were my best friends and we’d all made it to ASU after fighting, groveling, and pulling lots of strings to get here. The squad, a whole line up of queer men who played hockey and didn’t put up with any bullshit.
Tyler, our first-string right D-man, opened the tailgate on his truck and slid a box to the end of it, his shoulder-length, dirty blond hair shining in the sunshine.
“Hey, man.” I grinned and planted my hand on his shoulder. “Nice to see you.” He was better than me by a mile and was weighing his options for the NHL, with a brother already playing for the Rangers and a dad who was a juniors coach.
“Hey, Archer.” With a dimpled grin, he threw his arms around me and hugged me into his chest. “Missed you and all the guys.” He freed me and his brown eyed gaze raked over me. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks. You got to hang out with Myles a little bit up in Chicago, right?” I stepped back and inspected him, the smattering of tattoos on his arms. Most of us had them, including me. I had my sleeve done a few years ago, after Mom’s accident.
“I did.” He lifted his chin and puffed out his chest. “Got to show off my hockey bod at the gay bar with him a few times.”
“Of course you did.” And with a body like his, I couldn’t blame him. “Let me help you with your boxes.” I hopped onto the tailgate and walked through the boxes, shoving them down to him while he stacked them on the driveway.
“I heard you’ve had multiple hookups with some hot as fuck musician?” He arched a brow at me.
Word had definitely spread about Milo. “Yeah, I think I’m going to see if he wants to start dating.” I jumped off the tailgate and picked up a box.