To be fair, Blake wasn’t being grumpy for no reason, it was because Brammer wouldn’t stop bugging him.
They play in Hartford the day before New Year’s and return home late, so Blake sleeps in, two cats in his bed with him, walking all over him, and then screaming when he won’t get up and feed them. They won’t get to sleep in his bed the next time he tries to sleep in.
He makes himself breakfast, scrolls through Instagram for a bit and posts a picture of Squid, because the people love him. The whole Instagram account for the cats thing was a joke in the beginning. He needed a distraction from being miserable, but then Blake actually kept posting photos and now his cats have followers.
Angus doesn’t make too many appearances, because he usually only glares when Blake takes a picture of him, but Squid is a natural and tries to look extra pretty when Blake points his camera at him. He’s still fiddling with filters when someone knocks on the door.
It’s Charlie, smiling when Blake opens the door.
“Hey,” Charlie says.
“Hey, you wanna come in?”
“I actually wanted to ask what you’re doing tonight,” Charlie says, but comes in anyway.
“Hanging out here, I guess.”
“You’re not going to the party Brammer was talking about?”
“No, why?”
Charlie shrugs. “I was just wondering.”
“Oh,” Blake says. He’s a little suspicious, because Charlie isn’t much of a party-goer either. When they go out after a game, it’s usually Charlie and Blake who lead the way to the next best pub. They don’t do dancing. He’d suspect that Brammer put Charlie up to this, but then Charlie isn’t the kind of guy who’d do Brammer’s dirty work.
“It’s just…”
“Yeah?” Blake prompts.
“I… Okay, this is embarrassing, but…”
“Yeah?” Blake says again.
“I haven’t really… I kinda want to go to the party. Because it’s been so long since I…” Charlie’s face is redder than Blake has ever seen it, which is quite the feat. “I’m bad at talking to girls. And, like, I’m not asking you to be my wingman or anything, but the other guys are always so… They’re not subtle. And they’re mean. And they’re gonna be assholes about this if I show up alone, but if you’re there… it might not be so bad.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want me to come so Brammer won’t embarrass you in front of a girl with his juvenile bullshit?” Blake says.
“I guess?”
“I…” Blake really doesn’t want to go. Especially if he’s going to have to watch Charlie pick up a girl.
“I’ll pay for the cab fare.”
Blake presses his lips together. Still doesn’t want to go.
“I bet they’ll have really good food. And free drinks.”
Not really enough to sway Blake. He has food and drinks in his fridge. It’s right there in the kitchen and he doesn’t have to go to some Upper East Side party to get it.
“Please?” Charlie says.
“Fine,” Blake says, because he can’t stand the look on Charlie’s face. He has actual puppy eyes.
Charlie honest to God hugs him. “You’re the best.”
#
“Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”
“I don’t know…”
“Moo, it’s time.”
“For what?” Elliot asks as he fiddles with his elbow pads.
“To get back in the saddle,” Andreas says with a wise-beyond-his-years kind of voice.
Elliot rolls his eyes. They shouldn’t have taught Andreas idioms.
“No, he’s right,” Adam says. “Moo, it’s time to get laid. Come on. You’re not seventy years old. Honestly, seventy-year-olds probably have more sex than you. It’s been months. I mean, what else are you gonna do? Be alone forever?”
“Yeah,” Elliot grumbles. He’s not in the mood for a party. They just played a hockey game and he wants to take a nap. “I’m tired.”
“Go home, take a nap, then come to the party.”
“Whose party even is this?”
“Oh, it’s…” Andreas looks at the ceiling, clearly thinking hard. “It’s my girlfriend’s friend. They were in the same soro… soriety?”
“Sorority,” Elliot says.
“Yeah, that. What even is that? It sounds like some sort of sect when she talks about it.”
“I think that’s exactly what it is,” Adam says.
“She told Carly that she could invite me and that I could bring as many of my teammates as I want.”
“Are you sure she didn’t say single teammates?” Elliot asks.
Adam snorts. “Probably what she meant. But you are a single teammate, Moo. The ladies will love you.”
“I’m going to the party, but only if you promise that you won’t give a shit whether or not I go home alone,” Elliot says.
“I can live with that. But you have to talk to girls.”
“Okay, maybe I will, but don’t be weird about it, okay?” Elliot says. His worst nightmare is his teammates setting him up on dates and introducing girls to him at bars, because he’s currently not at all sure what he’s looking for. It’s awkward to have someone pushed at him and it’s even more awkward to talk to someone he didn’t choose to talk to, someone who probably also didn’t choose to talk to him, but was lured over by one of his teammates.
“We’re never weird,” Andreas says, solemn.
“Don’t give anyone my phone number.”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t like… pull one of those weird moves–”
“We’re never weird,” Andreas interrupts.
“Let me find people to talk to.”
“But can we
