“Come in,” David says, a little shy, to Jake’s shoulder and not his face. Wants it, for Jake to come in, to stay, to drape himself all over David and wake up beside him in the morning with bedhead and drowsy eyes, the way he’d looked that night David fell asleep in his bed. The thought scares him, but in the way Québec City did, New York did, the kind of fear that means he’s earned something he can lose.

“Cabbie’s waiting,” Jake says.

David gives him a flat look.

“I’m going to do this right, okay?” Jake says. “I mean it this time.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” David says, exasperated.

“I mean I’m going to do this right,” Jake repeats. “You deserve that.”

“And doing this right means you can’t come in?” David asks.

“Exactly,” Jake says cheerfully, then looks over his shoulder, brief, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to David’s temple, affectionate, like it’s easy. It makes David’s cheeks heat, his skin feeling lit up where Jake’s lips brushed. He still doesn’t know what ‘doing it right’ is, but he trusts that Jake does.

“See you in the morning,” Jake says softly, once he’s pulled back.

“Looking forward to it,” David says, and it’s saying too much, maybe, he thinks he might be saying too much, but he means it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

David sleeps poorly that night. He could tell himself it was because he was wired from the game, or suffering the aches and pains of a long season, but that would be a lie, one even he couldn’t believe.

He wakes up at seven. Well, he wakes up long before seven, but at seven he has to give up on the prospect of sleeping entirely. He takes a scorchingly hot shower, tries to linger over breakfast as long as he possibly can. He checks the time when he’s done, and it’s only eight-thirty. He hasn’t heard from Jake, but then, Jake’s probably still sleeping.

David tries and fails to invest himself in the news, and then, bothered by the clutter around him, he starts picking up after himself, ends up pulling out the cleaning supplies and attacking his kitchen, then his bathroom, and finally, after a minute of hesitation, spends a significant amount of time making sure his bedroom is spotlessly clean. It’s foolish. Jake probably isn’t coming over, and even if he was, David knows the level of mess he abides in his own apartment, bedroom included.

David has to admit he’s feeling something like nerves, which is ridiculous, considering how many times they’ve been on, well — maybe not dates, not officially, but something not all that different. There’s no reason for him to be nervous. It’s just Jake.