“Dill pickle?” Chase says in awe as he looks between me and Chris.
“Yeah. Heard it was your favorite.”
“You’re a keeper,” Chase says, knocking his brother in the side as he gets a couple of bowls out of the cabinet. “Don’t fuck this up, Chris.”
“There’s nothing to fuck up,” Chris mutters while I stand there, moving from side-to-side, feeling a little awkward without Zach.
This is exactly why you need to be here.
“Since you’re our guest, we were thinking of letting you choose,” Chase says.
“Me? Am I the only guest tonight?”
“Yup,” Nick says with a smile. “Can’t have too many people infiltrating our hockey night. Be thankful, you only just made that list.” He winks and says something to Chris as he takes a now full bowl of popcorn and walks past.
“Well, I’m honored and now I’m feeling the pressure to pick something good.”
“You’ll be fine,” Chris says. “We’ll like whatever you pick. Just make sure it’s not something with subtitles—Jensen will probably start having a conversation with the screen.”
“I don’t have conversations with the screens,” Jensen protests. “I just… read the subtitles so you don’t have to. It’s very different.”
“So what you’re saying is, turning foreign films into one-man plays is totally normal?” Chase asks, pulling out the bag of popcorn and emptying it into a bowl.
“Totally normal,” Jensen repeats.
“How about we let Honey pick the movie before we spend the entire evening talking about it?” Chris leads me to the living room and gives me the prime spot in the middle of their couch. Then he hands me a remote.
“I’m trusting you to pick something good.”
“No pressure.” I accept the remote and scroll through the movie options, feeling the weight of their expectation.
“Um, how about this one?” I suggest, clicking on a thriller that looks interesting but not too intense.
“Perfect,” Nick says, plopping down on the other side of me. Soon, Jensen and Chase have joined us with pizza and the rest of the popcorn.
I’m just getting comfortable when my phone lights up, and I instantly smile when I see his name sprawled across it. Zach texted me tonight. Not the other way around.
Zach:Miss you. What are you up to?
Honey:I miss you, too. I’m watching a movie at the hockey house, but I wish I was with you.
Zach:Ditto.
Honey:Can I come to your house after? I know you’re busy tonight, but it’s closer than mine and I want to see you even if it’s just in bed.
Zach:It’s our house and yes, fucking please.
Honey:Can’t wait. Love you, Zach.
Zach:Love you too, Honeycomb.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, but hear another notification come through and check it again in case it’s him.
Unknown:Your golden boy’s game isn’t for another two days and you really think he’s spending the night talking to the boys? That’s cute.
Unknown:Check the location share, Honey. Or don’t—denial looks as good on you now as it did when you were in high school.
I read the message again, doing my best to swallow down any emotions begging to come out. I can’t do that. Not here. Not in front of a bunch of guys I barely know.