Page 18 of Twisted Needs

I stare at him. My brain feels slow suddenly, like it’s trying to process too many versions of reality at once. He kissed me back. He deepened the kiss. There’s probably a fucking hickey on the side of my neck from him.

I didn’t fucking imagine that. I know I didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I say immediately, the words tripping over themselves so fast they barely sound coherent. “I thought—I don’t know, I thought⁠—”

The embarrassment hits so violently it makes me sick to my stomach. I sit up and turn away before he can see my face properly. The humiliation is unbearable. Heat crawls all the way up my neck while every second of the last two minutes replays in horrifying detail behind my eyes.

He takes a small step and I hear the floor creak beneath his weight. “Anders.”

I shake my head immediately. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment Parker doesn’t say anything, but then I feel his hand gently close around my wrist. “Hey,” he says softly.

That softness almost makes it worse. He sounds so careful now, almost like I’m suddenly a child again.

I finally force myself to look at him. And immediately regret it because Parker looks ashamed. He looks guilty.

“You’re drunk,” he says quietly. “You made a mistake.”

My chest tightens painfully. “I’m so sorry.” But I can’t tell if he’s telling that to me or to himself.

His grip on my wrist tightens slightly. “You’re okay.”

The way he says it makes me feel strangely small, and suddenly our age difference feels enormous. Humiliatingly enormous. But the way he just took control of the narrative so easily…now he’s the one who gets to recover from this. Meanwhile I still feel his hand on my waist like it means something.

“That’s not fair,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

Fuck.

Parker’s expression shifts slightly. “What?”

I almost laugh. I don’t even know how to explain it. The fact that he let himself kiss me back long enough for hope to exist before deciding to become responsible again. But I can’t exactly say that because hearing it out loud would make me sound insane. So instead I just shake my head.

“Nothing.”

Parker studies me for a second too long before exhaling quietly. “Come on,” he murmurs. “It’s getting late. You should head upstairs.”

somehow that hurts too, because the night is ending exactly the way he wants it to. With Parker deciding what happens. He sends me up to the guest room like it’s my bed time, watching me walk up the stairs like a parent just counting down the minutes until they can plop down on the couch and watch a show that isn’t animated or has loud, obnoxious singing.

The worst part is that I still want him near me even now.

I lie awake for hours staring at the ceiling, half-convinced he’ll come back to me once he’s had enough time to stop pretending that whatever happened between us only happened to me.

But he never does.

CHAPTER 6

CONSTANT REMINDER

PARKER

The locker room always smells like the same three things after practice: Tape adhesive, sweat that’s been baked into cotton, and whatever cleaning solution the arena staff uses that never quite gets the job done.

I sit on the bench with one skate still half-laced, rolling my shoulders back until I hear a soft pop in my neck. The guys are still talking behind me, voices bouncing off the tile and metal lockers, but I’ve already shifted into the part of my morning where I’m only half here.

It’s a good team this year, which matters so much more than people consider. Our biggest personalities just so happen to be the youngest guys, who act like they were raised on a completely different planet than the rest of us.

Calvin Malloy is currently trying to tape his stick with the concentration of a surgeon, tongue poking out slightly as he leans over. The kid is loud in a way that never quite turns off, even when he’s quiet, which, arguably, is what makes him a good goalie. Bishop keeps correcting him from two lockers down, not even looking up from his own gear. Their little bromance is the cutest thing ever. I don’t think I’ve seen Bish take another mentorship as seriously as this one.