Cutting a sip short, Luke swallows. I fixate on the jump his throat makes before getting distracted by his tongue darting out to clear some water off of his upper lip. Somehow, I manage to tear my gaze away and stare at the table, trying desperately to stop ogling him.
“Oh my god, that goal was epic,” Luke gushes.
Against my better judgement, I look back, and his face is completely lit up in a way that’sirresistible.
“Like, seriously,” he continues, “that goal was a total game changer.”
Nils stretches across the table and smirks. “Hey, he’s such a loyal fan,” he says in Swedish. “You should show some gratitude to your biggest supporter.”
I shush him. “Dude, he’s right there.”
Laughing, Nils waves me off. “I think you forgot that he doesn’t speak Swedish.”
“He might, though. He says he’s learning.”
Nils scoffs. “Oh, he’s learning? That’s so sweet, but he had zero reaction to what I said. I’ll show you.” I lock eyes with Nils, and in the gray, I catch an unmistakable, mischievous flicker.
Uh oh.
“Alright boys,” he says, turning to face the team, still addressing them in Swedish, “raise your hands if Erik should act on his obvious crush on… the guy sitting to his left!”
Jesus, way to—honestly, I don’t care anymore. I’m already embarrassed enough at myself, and at least there’s no way Luke learned enough to understand all that.
The rest of the team immediately raises their hands. Silja snickers, and Luke leans in.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
Silja replies before I can. “Nils asked the team if they think Erik should have another drink.”
Luke also raises his hand, and the guys absolutely lose their shit.
Nils turns to me, smug as hell. “I told you, he doesn’t know what we’re saying.”
I glare at my beer.
“You good, Erik?” Luke asks. He’s resting his head in his palm, and then hebats his fucking eyelashes.
This isn’t fair. My ribs ache with pure want when he smiles, and I can’t do anything but give him a quick nod as a reply.
I groan. “If Luke gets any flirtier, I’m done for.”
Nils raises his drink at me. “Oh, buddy. You’re already done for. Just accept your fate. You two are so cute together, I can’t even.”
My pulse pounds in my ears as I struggle to tamp down the rising affection for Luke that’s at risk of surfacing. If I go all soft on Luke here, the team will never let me hear the end of it. In fact, they’d feed into the crush, and there are already enough people doing that.
I manage to hold my own for the next while, and then one of our defensemen, Matt, stands up and clinks his glass. “Okay, let’s take this party to another bar!” He’s one of the Canadians on the team, and his Swedish is passable. The rest of the guys woot in agreement while Nils translates for Luke, and Silja makes an unnecessary show of standing up with shaky legs.
“I’m so drunk,” she says in perfect, sober English. “Nils, you need to help me get back to our place!”
Nils pretends to be shocked. “Of course. And Luke, uh, is barely standing upright. He’s so jetlagged.”
I swivel my head in Luke’s direction, only to see him paying his bill without fumbling or falling over.
“Makes sense,” Matt calls out. “We’ll catch you guys at practice on Sunday.”
The team leaves, which is when Silja makes a miraculous recovery. “Actually, I’m not that drunk. Maybe it’s my iron levels or something.” She then takes Nils’s hand and gestures to the exit.
“Alright,” Nils says, facing me and Luke. “Silja and I are gonna take a walk, but you two should rest up. See you guys later.”
