Chapter 8 Adrian
ADRIAN
“And how would you describe your ideal partner?” I ask Hudson.
I quickly took over as the one typing as we fill this out so I could have something to focus on other than how hot he looks right now in his faded black Werewolves sweats. He is, yet again, not wearing a shirt.
Have I kept the place a little warmer than necessary since he moved in? So what? He hasn’t complained.
“Umm, kind, funny, smart. I’ve always been attracted to confidence too,” he answers, pulling my focus back to this stupid app I’m setting up for him.
Ugh. Why did I agree to do this again? Creating a dating profile for your perfect man to help him start seeing someone else—probably another hot confident blond supermodel with big tits—should be considered a cruel and unusual form of torture.
Hudson was gone for a few days with a stretch of away games, and I was kind of hoping that he’d have gotten impatient and started this whole thing without me.
Or better yet, decided he didn’t actually need to create any dating profiles because he was already living with the perfect candidate.
Except that obviously didn’t happen. He flew in late last night, and when I got home from work today, he was already waiting for me with our fancy pre-made-by-his-personal-chef meals heating up. And as soon as we started eating, he asked if we could work on this after dinner.
I had no excuse not to help him. The truth of “sorry but I’m far too jealous to help when all I want to do is sabotage any date you ever try to go on with anyone other than me” probably wouldn’t have gone over well.
And I do want him to be happy.
So now here we are, sitting side by side at the table, building a dating profile so he can finally move on from his ex-wife… with someone who isn’t me. It's not a surprise—he's straight, I remind myself for the millionth time—but somehow knowing that doesn't stop it from stinging.
After he let that little comment slip about preferring to not be alone, I’ve realized he’s never actually talked about trying to find his own place. I’ve been afraid to ask and remind him that it was even an option, but as far as I know, he’s content to stay with me for now.
And I’m more than happy with that arrangement. But I also know exactly how this is going to go when he starts dating again. Anyone he shows the slightest interest in is going to fall head-over-heels in about two seconds. I know I have.
And then he’ll realize bringing home his date to my guest bedroom isn’t as appealing as it would be if he had a house of his own. I’ll be lucky if he’s still here in a week.
My nights of coming home to dinner, chatting about our days, and ending with relaxing on the couch together watching TV are numbered.
I guess I already knew they were, he could find his own house tomorrow, but for some reason, creating a dating profile for him makes his leaving seem far more real than I care to focus on.
I just hope they deserve him, that it isn’t another Shelby situation where he settles for the first woman that checks his boxes.
I wonder if he’d let me screen his dates to make sure they’re worth his time. Or maybe I can meet them after he actually likes someone enough for a second date, see if they seem like a good fit.
Ugh. That would be weird, right? Hudson and I are friends, and honestly new friends at that. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean he owes me any extra access to his life. The fact he’s asked me to help with this at all is more than I would have expected.
“What’s your ideal first date?” I prompt.
He takes a second to think about it, because he actually cares about this. He’s so invested in finding his person, and it’s so fucking sweet I could puke.
“I’d love somewhere public enough that they’re comfortable, but private enough that we can talk and get to know each other. Maybe dinner in a quiet restaurant overlooking the lake. Oh, at sunset, that’s my favorite.”
Of course it is. Every answer he’s giving is so endearing that if I didn’t know him, I would think this was a fake profile with how perfect he seems. But no, the man sitting next to me is very real, and he genuinely enjoys all the cliché things his profile will advertise.
I love them too, damn it.
And his pictures are so hot, like, what the actual fuck? Does this man not have one bad angle, maybe an off-putting picture of him holding up a big fish or something?
No.
Of course not. His pictures are him in gameday suits, posing with people at charity events, and hanging out with other professional hockey players. And somehow none of them come across as him showing off or like he’s pretending for the cameras.
At this point I’m convinced Hudson has no flaws, and honestly, it’s rude.
“Okay, what age range would you like me to include?” I ask, trying my best to stay focused and get this thing done as quickly as I can. He talked about wanting to try multiple websites, but I’m really hoping the one will be enough for tonight.
“Ummm. I don’t really know. I guess like twenty-five to forty? Is that bad if I cap it at forty? Maybe forty-five? I don’t want to judge anyone based on their age, but I’d like someone who’s in the same phase of life as I am of wanting to start a family.”
I glance at him as I try to picture him with someone over ten years older than him. “Can women have kids at forty-five?”
“Well, a woman could have fertility issues at any age. I’m not necessarily looking for the biological mother of my children. I just want a partner that wants to raise kids with me,” he explains with a shrug.
Interesting. He’s been talking about wanting to be a dad so much, I guess I had assumed he meant his own biological children, but if he’s open to other options…
What else is he open to?
Focus. He wants to date a woman. Not me. Although the next question is certainly interesting. “Okay, do you have any other preferences? I put that you’re straight, but would you prefer to only match with cisgender women?”
“Oh, they ask you that right away? Wow, things have really updated since I was last dating. That’s pretty cool, though, that people can be so open about everything upfront.
” He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his bare chest, dark brows furrowed, deep in thought, and somehow as gorgeous as ever.
“I honestly haven’t considered it before now.
I’ve been with Shelby for so long, but no, I don’t think I would have any reservations about dating a woman who happens to be transgender. ”
My fucking heart, this man.
I know Hudson is an ally, so I’m not completely shocked by his answer.
He has always made his support of the LGBTQIA+ community obvious, not in a showy way, but he’s always the first to volunteer when Beckett or I have asked for team support for Pride events, and he’s never hesitated to use Pride Tape or wear the Pride jerseys like some players.
But dating preferences are so personal, and yet he didn’t hesitate to share his with me.
Not only did I like his answer but the fact that he is so comfortable with me already makes me way happier than it should.
I want to ask if I was right in labeling him as straight, but he didn’t correct me, so I don’t need to make him repeat it unnecessarily. Even if I could probably use the reminder when he’s looking as attractive as he does right now, continuing with his green-flag behavior.
“Okay, let’s move on, I think we’re almost done. Do you want me to include any hobbies or interests?”
“Hockey, obviously,” he says with a laugh. “But other than that, I’m pretty boring. Everything in my life has revolved around hockey for so long, I’m not sure what else I like.”
“A workaholic? I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I tease. “But I’m sure there’s something. Do you enjoy working out? Like, is that something you only do because you need to for work, or do you think you’ll still do that when you retire?”
“Yeah, I enjoy it. I can’t imagine stopping.”
“Then we’ll put fitness as an interest. And hockey. Maybe design TV shows? Or has that just been while I’m around?”
“Oh, you can definitely add interior design shows. I’m officially hooked. Half of my algorithm is interior design now.”
I can’t help but smile at the thought of Hudson scrolling through endless videos of wallpaper and mirror shapes. I’ll be so curious to see how he decorates his place when he does move out.
I hope that he shows me, and that we’ll remain friends.
I know it hasn’t been all that long since he moved in here, only a couple of weeks really, and he’s been gone for a lot of it with his travel schedule, but we fell into our routine so quickly that it’s hard to think about how quiet it will be when he’s gone. How empty my condo will feel.
I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine living on my own. I’m just being dramatic. Dramatic? Me? Never.
I put the finishing touches on his profile and realize I have one more question. “Have you thought about how you’ll handle it if you match with a fan? Would you prefer to date someone who doesn’t really care about hockey or…?”
“I’ve never had a strong opinion either way.
Shelby didn’t really care about hockey, but she got really into the idea of it after we started dating.
Looking back, I think it was more the WAG lifestyle she was into than anything else.
I could see the benefits of dating someone who doesn’t care at all, who’s interested in me for me and not because of my job.
” He tilts his head back and forth as he considers.
“But, like I said, hockey is such a big part of my life, I also think it would be nice to be with someone who genuinely enjoyed the sport, so they don’t get bored of me talking about it all the time. ”