“Where should I start?”
“Uh…start what?” I asked, propping my pillows and sitting up in bed.
“Your hockey education. We were obviously talking about all the wrong things the other night,” Logan groused playfully.
I smiled. “I didn’t think so. I liked it. A lot.”
“Me too. But if I’d known you’d be at the game tonight, I could have at least explained the rules, so you’d know what was going on.”
“I figured it out. I’m not a complete moron. Puck into net…good. Right?”
Logan snickered. “Right.”
“And fighting is somehow good. Is that also correct?”
“It’s just part of the game.”
“Did you get hurt? That other player came after you kind of hard,” I said, plucking at the seam on my duvet.
“Ah! So you were paying attention! That guy is a fucknut to the extreme. And I’m the one who got sent to the sin bin,” he grumbled. “I admit that I lost my cool, but he started it.”
“Hmm. What’s a sin bin?”
“Penalty box.”
“Oh. It sounds…concupiscent.”
Logan barked a quick laugh. “Con-ca say what? Hang tight while I look that word up. Say it again. Better yet, spell it for me. I have dictionary.com up on my iPad.”
“No. You’re on your own,” I huffed.
“Don’t get crabby on me. I—oh, nice. I found it. Concupiscent, meaning lustful or sensual. Eagerly desirous. Derived from the Latin word confalufalous.”
“Ha. That sounds like a Dr. Seuss character.”
“True. I might have mispronounced it. I’m switching to Wikipedia. They know shit there. Oh! Now this is interesting. Says here that word means involuntary sexual arousal. What do you think that is? Accidentally springing wood? Or when you don’t want to be attracted to someone, but you are?”
“You’ve taken a serious left turn. What does any of that have to do with hockey?”
“Nothing, but you were the one who got sassy on me.”
“Did not.”
“Too.”
I sank into my pillow with a silly grin. “So, you weren’t hurt?”
“Nah. I’m fine. I have one game left after this, so I might as well relish the pain.”
“Kendra told me it’s not until May, right?”
“Yeah. We’ll still practice, but it’ll be mellow. You’ll have to come to that game.”
“You might not want me to.”
“Of course I will,” he countered.
“Hmm. Can I ask you something odd?”
“Sure thing.”
I bit my bottom lip, then blurted, “Did Friday night happen? I mean, I know it did, but I wonder if I enhanced it in my mind.”
Logan was quiet for a moment. “Do you remember giving each other blowjobs?”
I guffawed loudly before covering my mouth. It was almost midnight, but I’d bet big bucks my roommate was wide awake and studying. Noah and I were friendly, but we weren’t close. We met when I responded to his post on an engineering department message board last year. He was looking for someone to share his two-bedroom apartment near campus. Ideally someone quiet who studied hard, didn’t party, and didn’t invite friends over all the time. He wouldn’t appreciate any late-night outbursts. I still couldn’t help chuckling at the slim possibility I’d ever forget blowing Logan.
“That didn’t happen,” I deadpanned.
“It will,” he replied confidently.
I snorted in amusement. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
“Confident.” He let out a low, self-deprecating groan and followed it up with a sigh. “Sorry, that was a joke, but it came across as part cheese, part asshole. Not a good combo. Will you still have coffee with me tomorrow? Or did I blow it with the blowjob comment?”
My shoulders shook as I chuckled merrily. “We’re still on. Just…behave.”
“Okay. I won’t ask you what you’re wearing right now.”
“You’d be disappointed. I’m wearing Yoda pajama bottoms and a math team T-shirt.”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he purred.
I busted up. “They’re flannel, so yeah, they are a little warm. What are you wearing?”
“Black boxers and a plain white tee. I’m going for the monochrome look tonight. I can’t wear PJ bottoms. I sweat. When I was a kid, my mom used to buy us onesies in wintertime. They always had something cool on them, like a superhero or cowboy print. I wanted to wear them year-round. But I swear, I have memories of waking up in the middle of the night, drenched. I don’t know if I was stupid or stubborn, but it took me a while to figure out that less was more for me. I reserve T-shirts for January and February, but in July and August…”
“You sleep naked,” I finished.
“Yup. Oh, that’s TMI, isn’t it? Only one way to fix that. You’ve gotta share a TMI moment too,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I just told you I’m wearing Yoda pajamas. Isn’t that bad enough?”
“No. Star Wars isn’t TMI, it’s cool. TMI is when you tell me something concupiscent that you want to do to me in those Yoda jammies.”
I burst into a new round of laughter. “Nice one.”
“Thank you,” he said smugly. “I’m waiting. Gimme some TMI. No, that doesn’t sound right. Tell me something you think is gross that most people like.”