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“Yeah, I, uh, don’t really know what to do with any of it. I can grill chicken and make rice and vegetables. Aside from that?” He shrugged, watching TK begin to unpack the bags.
“Well, I’m gonna use the shit out of it tonight, that’s for damn sure.” He grabbed the bag that had the cold items inside and wandered around, confused. “Fridge?”
“Oh, right here,” Ryan said, moving to open the door for him.
“Oh, you fancy, huh?” he joked, putting the items into the nearly bare refrigerator. “Kinda nice how the NHL pretty much eliminates the need for groceries, huh?”
“It really is. The food is unreal.”
“The food, the clothes…ugh, I miss it,” TK said sadly, closing the doors. “Got no one to blame but myself for fucking it up though.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Ryan corrected, sitting down at one of the island stools. “Just a blip, man. You’ll be back in no time.”
TK laughed uncomfortably. “Mind if I grab some water?”
“Sure,” Ryan pointed to the cabinet where the glasses were, as TK grabbed one. “The water dispenser is on the inside of the fridge. It took me like, three days to figure that out.”
Ryan eyed him up as he filled his glass, his cock twitching as he thought about how it would feel to flick his tongue across those barbells and what noises might escape from him as he did so.
Fuck.
TK slammed the glass of water and set the glass in the sink. “Is, uh, Ty on his way?” he finally asked. He appeared nervous.
Ryan nodded. “Had to finish up some of his house chores after training. Said he’d probably be here around 6.” They both turned to look at the clock on the microwave.
5:27 p.m.
Neither of them said a word for a bit.
Ryan’s eyes followed TK as he headed toward the floor to ceiling windows that composed the entire back wall of the apartment, with two of them being sliding glass doors that led to a large balcony overlooking the bay. “Mind if I head out for a smoke?” he asked.
“Yeah, no problem.” He filled up a red Solo cup with water and followed TK outside, set it on the cocktail table, and sat down on the L-shaped sectional, watching TK lean over the glass railing and puff away. “Here’s a cup for the butt.”
TK turned to face him. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Ryan asked, patting the cushion. “You don’t…you don’t have to be nervous. I mean…you just…don’t have to be.”
Shaking his head, he took a long drag, dropped the butt into the cup, and had a seat on the opposite side of the couch. “Right.”
“What?” Ryan asked, staring at him.
“What do you mean what? I don’t think I’ve ever even had an actual conversation with you, and I know you fucking hate me…”
“I do not hate you,” Ryan cut him off.
“I would if I were you.”
“Well, you’re not me.”
TK shrugged. “That I’m not. Kinda wish I was though.”
Ryan scoffed. “Yeah? And why’s that?”
“Have you seen yourself? I mean, people don’t get much more perfect than you, pretty boy.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ryan replied immediately. “Please.”
“Sorry. Old habits.”
