Page 75 of End Game

He laughs, a little awkward. “In the most literal sense of the phrase. We’ll watch something and hang out and just… relax.”

“You don’t want to drink and get laid?”

Barrett shakes his head. “My whole body hurts. I’m exhausted. Tomorrow night we can party after your game, but for tonight, I want to hang out with you—just you. No crowds, no loud music, no craziness. I have some vodka if you really want to drink. I just… I’m in the mood for something low-key tonight.”

There’s a lump in my throat. “Yeah. That’s okay with me.”

He gives me a winning smile, and my stomach flips. “Great.”

By the time we get back to his house, Wes is already installed in his usual armchair with his book, and Mack has taken over the couch with her tablet. She looks up and smiles nervously at us when we come in.

“Fuck, it’s getting cold out there, isn’t it?” Barrett says as he hangs up his coat.

She nods. “Winter starts earlier and earlier every year.”

“Fuck global warming,” Wes says, turning a page in his book.

It’s the most I’ve heard him say in the last few weeks. Only two other times has he spoken since I’ve met him. He’s not dumb. He’s just shy.

“We’re going to watch a movie,” I tell them. “Do you guys want to join?”

Wes looks up and meets my eyes. His eyes are a clear green, intent on mine, as he studies the offer for any hidden agenda.

“Thanks, but not tonight,” he says, a little gruffly.

“Maybe next time,” Mack says. “I just got to a really good place in my book. I wouldn’t pay attention.”

“Next time, then,” I agree.

Even though we haven’t spent a lot of time together one on one, I like her. She’s friendly and personable in a crowd, but she’s happy enough falling back and hiding in the shadows. It’s not anything sinister; she’s just not fond of being the center of attention.

We head up the stairs. Barrett tugs at his tie as he lumbers slowly behind me. Once we’re in his room, he strips off his jacket and pulls his tie all the way off. I’m wearing leggings and an oversized Zhang jersey, so I’m already comfortable. He rolls up his shirtsleeves and takes off his belt. He collapses onto his bed with a sigh.

“Don’t you want to change?”

His eyes snap up to mine. “Huh?”

“Put on sweats or something. You don’t have to hang out in your dress clothes.”

“In a minute.” He pats the space beside him. “Come lay here with me.”

Tentatively I take a seat on the side of the bed. Barrett wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me into the depression beside him.

I laugh. “Can I at least take off my shoes?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He releases me, and I roll over until I can sit up. Unzipping my boots, I kick them off and retake my spot next to him.

Barrett slides his arm beneath my neck. Curling into him, I rest my head on his bicep and breathe. What are we doing? Are we really just going to lay here and stare at the ceiling?

After a few minutes, he sighs, and starts to sit up.

“Be right back,” he mumbles. He digs in his dresser drawer, coming up with a pair of sweatpants, and disappears into the attached bathroom.

I scrub a hand over my face. What are we doing? I’m out of my comfort zone here.

When Barrett opens the bathroom door a few moments later, he’s changed into a Newton football t-shirt and sweatpants, and traded his daytime contacts for his thin black-framed glasses. Now he looks like my best friend, the man I want to see.