I shrug and pick at fingernails in my lap, an act of nonchalance even though what happened next still has me blushing when I think about it. “I was sick, so it’s kind of a blur . . .” I try to downplay the whole thing. “We agreed to be friends . . . and then . . . Ifellasleepontopofhim.”
Silence fills the room, so heavy that I swear I can hear Aleks blinking at me in shock. “. . . I’m sorry. You what?”
“It’s a long story,” I sigh. It really isn’t, but what Hendrix told me is his personal business, and I won’t gossip about it. “But basically, I went to hug him while he was lying down, and then I fell asleep while hugging him. He, uh, fell asleep, too.”
And that is the most confusing part. For someone like Hendrix, who says he doesn’t even like high fives, letting me cuddle against him while I slept was unexpected. I’m a touchy-feely guy, and that cuddling session was more than I’d usually do with just a friend. I will snuggle with a guy or girl I like more than a friend, though. That information has my mind reeling because there is no way I like like Hendrix. The guy hated me up until yesterday, and he might hate me again once he makes some other friends he likes better.
“You and I could cuddle—I mean, hug like that, right?” I ask Aleks before he can recover his voice, disbelief still clear on his face. “It wouldn’t be weird, would it?”
Aleks considers the question before answering in the brutally honest way he always does. “I’d probably pop a stiffy.”
I throw a pillow at him, which he catches, of course. “Dude!”
“I’m serious! You’re hot; I’m hot. You’re bi; I’m gay. Hey! Is Sour gay? Why else would he let you snuggle with him? And he kissed me.” Aleks sits up, clutching the pastel blue throw pillow in his orange-dusted hands. Excitement has his dark eyes shining, and his face lights up like a kid in a candy shop. The guy is so gorgeous that I wonder, not for the first time, how he and I never felt more for each other than friendship. Then he opens his mouth again, and I realize exactly why. “Did he pop a boner? Is he big? I get serious BDE vibes from him.”
“No! I don’t know. You can’t ask me these questions, Kiss. Hendrix and I are just almost-friends, okay?”
“So, he’s straight? He kissed me,” he points out as if either of us has forgotten what happened the night of that first away game in Denver.
“Everyone has kissed you,” I snort under my breath.
Aleks hears but isn’t discouraged by my jab. “True. Everyone wants a kiss from Kiss.”
My face falls into a dramatic deadpan. “Dude. That was seriously bad.” We both chuckle about his horrible joke, and when we’re done, he goes right back to talking about Hendrix. Which, okay, I get it, but the more questions Aleks asks me, the more I realize I have no idea how this whole friendship thing with Hendrix is supposed to work.
“So,” Aleks asks between sucking Cheeto dust off his fingers. “Did you invite him to the after-party on Sunday?”
I give him a pointed look. “The tentative after-party?”
He shrugs. “We’re going to party whether we win or lose. Plus, I’m thinking of inviting some of the Treasures players. The cool, queer ones.”
“And when were you going to tell me about these extra people?” Considering you are going to be inviting them to my house, I silently add. It’s not that I particularly care if some of the Treasures have my address, but it’s the principle behind asking before giving out my personal information.
“Um, when they showed up at the door?” He gives me a sheepish grin. “I didn’t think you would mind.”
“I—” Do I want to try and explain it when he probably won’t see the difference anyway? I sigh and shake my head, relenting. “I don’t. It’s fine.”
“Great.” He carries on undeterred. “With more guys in the League coming out, I have been thinking we should do something after every home game and invite any allies who want to come. Like a queer night.”
“Inclusive night,” I quickly suggest instead. “We don’t want to make it sound as if we don’t want someone there just because they’re straight. You had it right with the ally thing.”
And, as Aleks does, he moves on just as quickly as he got there. “We should definitely make sure Sour comes to the inclusive party. Maybe he’s looking for a chance to come out to us.”
I roll my eyes, confused as to why it is so important what Hendrix’s sexuality is. Yes, a part of me wants to know because him letting me fall asleep on him, and him falling asleep in return, was strange, but at the same time, it’s his choice if he tells us or not. For now, I’m content with the knowledge we are friends and that the cuddling was a one-off due to my being sick.
“So, did you invite him?” Aleks demands to know.
“I . . .” We hadn’t gotten that far before . . .
“What, sleep-gate get in the way?”
“Do not call it that!” I hiss, feeling my eyes go wide.
“If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck—”
“You’re just a fucking horndog.”
“This is true,” he acknowledges, then points at my face. “And you’re avoiding the topic. Did. You. Invite. Him?”
“I didn’t get around to it,” I confess with reluctance.
Aleks just stares at me.
“What?”
His eyes widen, and he gestures at my phone on the table. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do it now.” When I don’t move, Aleks gives me a wtf look.
I shrug. “I don’t have his number.” We also hadn’t gotten around to that before we fell asleep, and it’s not like I could have asked him after the fact because . . . “He left before I woke up, so I never got around to asking to exchange numbers.”
“He ghosted you?” Aleks makes a sympathetic noise. “That’s rough, dude.”
I feel my face fall in disbelief. “No! He didn’t ghost me. He just . . . left before the sun came up without waking me, or giving me his number or address or a way to contact him, and— Oh my God, did I get ghosted last night?”
Aleks smacks his teeth, sucking in air, his expression nonverbally telling me that I did.
“No, no,” I interject before he can. “We’re going to see each other at practice tomorrow. Everything is fine. We’re friends now.”
My best friend remains silent with his lips rolled between his teeth as if trying to keep his opinion to himself.
