A Different Slice

11.1 - The Hockey Party (Naomi)

"You sure you don't want this?" Ian pulled out the edible package again.

Naomi looked at his hand and shook her head. Just because Greg and Tara were both missing didn't mean they were together. She might be talking to her friends, and he was always busy with something.

"Leave her be, Ian," Marc said as he walked through the living room. He leaned down and whispered, "Greg's upstairs, and he'd love to see you," with a smile.

"Thanks, there are chicken wings in the freezer when the oven frees up, and I brought some Captain Morgan."

"Right on." Marc kept walking into the kitchen.

Naomi stood and freed herself from the beanbag chair's grasp.

"Be careful, Nomi. You're good people." Ian wore a glazed-over stare.

"And you're drunk and high, my friend."

"Just drunk, but it doesn't make me wrong."

Ian's warning clung to her neck like a bloodsucker as she headed upstairs. The gray carpet on the stairs was soft on her sock-clad feet. She called out as she approached Greg's room.

"Greg, you up here?"

"Nomi, you're finally here." He met her at the door frame, leaning against it without a shirt. She scanned the room but didn't notice Tara. "Like what you see?" he teased.

She liked that Tara was nowhere in sight, but wasn't sure why he was shirtless. It wasn't that hot, and he couldn't have known she'd arrive now. He kept staring at her like he expected a real response to a question he'd teased her with for years. She smiled. "Your bicep curls and front delts are paying off well."

"You'll never change, Nomi, will you?"

Naomi swallowed uncomfortably. Was that a shot at her or the fact that she wasn't blushing or flustered? "Am I supposed to?"

"No." He stroked her face. "It keeps me humble. Come, you can help me figure out what to wear."

She followed him into the room. "You've been up here the whole time studying your clothes?"

"Nah, the pig roast prep was messy, so I rinsed off so I could change."

"Pig roast?"

He opened the closet. "Yeah, a few of the guys chipped in. You should see it in the backyard. Kind of epic."

"Cool, I will." She set her drink on his bedside table and looked through the shirts on hangers, running her fingers over the soft fabrics. She stopped on a thin, long-sleeved green sweater with a few buttons at the top and pulled it out. "I like how this one brings out your eyes."

He accepted the shirt from her but remained close enough for his breath to tickle her lips. "You're a funny woman, Nomi."

"How so?"

"No matter how often I work out, you only notice my eyes."

Now, they stared at her mouth, which drew her attention to his full lips and how he bit his bottom one. Her heart beat quicker with their proximity, and she sensed he was waiting for her to act, so she brushed her lips against his. He pulled Naomi closer with a hand on the small of her back as he dropped the shirt to the floor. His kisses were intense, working their way down to her collarbone. As his hand travelled under her shirt, she tried not to tense and hooked his fingers in hers, squeezing them gently.

"Sorry, Nomi. You have this effect on me."

Would it be the same every time?

It would be until she told him about her asexuality. She couldn't keep hiding it and expect their relationship to succeed.