Ah, shit.That’s a bit disappointing, but not unexpected. I sure don’t miss the early mornings from my high school hockey days.
Still, the way Erik is eye-fucking me right now says that he’s interested. He’s being subtle, or at least trying to be, but his gaze travels along the length of my body and back up, obvious enough for me to notice.
I break the silence to save it from falling into awkward territory. “You’re a disciplined man, that’s for sure.”
He hesitates for a moment. “I had a great time tonight. Let’s exchange numbers.”
The direct way he says that surprises me, and I’m smitten. I unlock my phone and hand it over.
Erik hands my phone back after filling in his details and texting himself. Intrigued, I scroll through his contact, finding out that he just put his name in as “Erik.”
“Do you have a last name?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s Norberg.”
I finish entering his information. “Thanks, I wanted to have you saved as more than Erik ‘Cute Guy from Bar.’”
Erik stares at me, his face flushing again as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other.
“Uh, you know you’re attractive, right?” I say.
“I guess, maybe?”
He’s either fishing for compliments, secretly blind, or part of a cult that bans mirrors. There’s no way he doesn’t know.
A flustered sound escapes Erik, and he tilts his head down at the ground, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Sheesh, that’s one gorgeous smile right there.
“I’m not used to hearing it said like that,” he says, casting a quick glance off to the side.
“That’ll change when we hang out again.” I shoot him a wink that I hope isn’t awkward. “Text me and we’ll make something happen.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you!” At that, Erik abruptly spins around and walks away.
Okay, he’s a lot less suave than most other people who look the way he does, but that’s the furthest thing from a problem.
Before heading into my building, I swivel my head back toward Erik’s departing figure, lingering on the way his powerful legs propel him forward.
Then I avert my gaze. I don’t want to be that kind of creep who stares furtively at someone’s ass, even if said ass might as well have been carved out of granite. Holy hockey butt.
Smiling, I walk into my building. Hearing from Erik in the next few days wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Very far from it, in fact.
BATHSTREET BOYS GROUP CHAT
Stefano
yo luke did u go out
Yeah
Adrian
And?
And what?
Carl
