11. Brandon
ELEVEN
brANDON
Brandon was in the kitchen after morning skate, making a smoothie that Ryan bought all of Brandon’s special ingredients for—even the protein powder he preferred—when Jackson cornered him. Ryan was at the park with Lola since the day was warm for December in Minnesota.
“Hey, I didn’t want to invite you to this until I knew you would still be up, but Ryan and I are starting a nonprofit—we probably told you about it?”
“The Rainbow Hockey Club,” Brandon said, remembering.
“Yeah, RHC, exactly. We have a fundraiser this weekend since there’s a few days off, and I confirmed with Coach you’d be up at least through the weekend. It’s basically a cocktail party, but there will be speakers, and activities, and food. I want you to come. And bring Gabe.”
And bring Gabe. Fuck.
“Gabe has a crazy work schedule,” he said, which was true. The fact that Gabe didn’t know he’d lied and told Jackson and Ryan he was Brandon’s boyfriend was also true .
“See if he can take off for the evening. I want to meet him,” Jackson whined. He had these big puppy dog eyes, and he leaned on the counter by Brandon looking like the saddest little kicked dog on earth.
“I’ll check with him,” Brandon promised. The tough part was that he wanted Gabe to be there with him. If he was going to go do gay shit, he wanted Gabe by his side. He didn’t want to go to a fundraiser for a queer nonprofit as a…maybe out person without a reason to be out. A boyfriend.
“Great. It’s cocktail attire, so suits. Your game day suits all look good. I don’t know if Gabe has a suit, but Ryan has a guy—I guess he’s my suit guy now too, after so many years—he mostly does customs, but he’ll tailor off-the-rack in a time crunch. Should I give him a call?”
This was all going so fast.
“Uh, let me check with Gabe first.”
“Cool, let me know. It’s going to be epic, so I really want you there. And once you get called up for good, and we get this thing going, you could get involved. If you want.”
Now that Brandon could agree to. He’d gotten the rambling, passionate spiel from Ryan more than once.
He wanted to mentor young queer hockey players, give them opportunities to be themselves, and do workshops with youth teams in the state to help change the culture of hockey.
Ryan and Jackson had big dreams, and Brandon thought it was cool as hell.
“Absolutely sign me up for that.”
“Rad. Listen, I know I always wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’m sure you’ve caught on to how excited I am about this, but I wanted you to know how excited I am that you’re here.
And that you’re working on being out. And if you want to come to this fundraiser alone and be stealth, there will be other guys from the team there with their wives and stuff, so it won’t be weird or obvious. ”
“No. I want to… I want people to know.”
“Cool. Everyone on the team is aware of the consequences of any speck of homophobia. I’m not afraid to fight.”
Jackson was small for a hockey player, and Brandon couldn’t remember a single time he had ever fought. He was the guy his teammates fought for. Still, Brandon believed him.
“Thanks, man.”
“I’m going to go do some yoga before Ry and Lola get back,” he said, refilling his water bottle before heading into the basement.
Brandon blended his smoothie and cleaned out the blender as he thought about how to ask Gabe to be his date.
Gabe was kind and understanding, and with how weird Brandon had been about his queerness, he didn’t think Gabe would be surprised he came out via fake boyfriend announcement.
He headed up to his room.
Beck, the captain of the Iowa Stars, had checked in on him, so he shot off a text message to update him that everything was going well, as he warmed up to texting Gabe. Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer. If he had to get Gabe a suit, time was, unfortunately, of the essence.
Brandon
Hi. Uh, weird question I need to preface with a confession. When I came out to Ryan and Jackson, I told them you were my boyfriend. It just…came out. I felt weird telling them for no reason, you know? Maybe you don’t.
Anyway, I lied to them, and now they want me to bring you to their fundraiser this weekend. Saturday night. Are you available? It’ll be fun. Good food, alcohol if you want it. I don’t know if you have a suit, but if not, I’ll buy you one. One you can use for other stuff when you need it.
For a long time in junior hockey, Brandon had only had one suit. He’d worn the same suit to his grandma’s funeral that he’d worn to games.
He hit send on his wall of text. Gabe would either message him back immediately or it would be hours.
Brandon finished his smoothie, full of all of the healthy shit one of his teammates once convinced him were crucial—flax seeds, chia seeds, and turmeric—and almost hopped into the shower before he was stopped by the buzzing of his phone.
Gabe
LMAO I would be honored to be your fake boyfriend at a fancy party. And unfortunately you read me to filth. I do not have a suit. I work on Saturday night, but my coworker Jere owes me a favor so let me see if I can trade shifts with him.
Also I’m addicted to those meals you got me by the way. So good. I’m never cooking again.
Brandon’s body flooded with relief. He’d been pretty sure Gabe would understand, but there was always the possibility that he’d be hurt or offended.
And hearing the premade meals were appreciated also felt…
nice. He would have kept sending them forever, even without confirmation that Gabe was eating and enjoying them, but having that knowledge felt incredible .
He sent back a bunch of smiley face emojis and hopped in the shower while he waited to hear back from Gabe.
He rinsed off after his morning skate, but his hair never looked good after using the shampoo at the rink.
And maybe he was vain about the pseudo-fashion show that was walking into the arena for the game.
When he got back to his phone, Gabe confirmed he was free. And that he was excited.
Over the following hour, he got Jackson’s suit guy’s number and scheduled an appointment for him and Gabe after practice the next day.
That night, Brandon scored his first NHL goal, a messy rebound cleanup that counted as much as anything else, and felt even better than his first assist. And the thing he was the most excited for (after hearing all was well with Ashely) was the congratulations text he knew would be on his phone after the game from Gabe.
“I don’t know,” Gabe told Martin Kilgorf, Jackson’s suit guy, when asked how he liked the suit he was wearing.
Martin had a tiny storefront, and his assistant had purchased a dozen suits from Macy’s in Gabe’s general size for him to try on.
Gabe looked uncomfortable in each of them, even if Brandon thought he looked delicious enough to eat.
He liked Gabe in his scruffy thrift store wardrobe, but in a suit? Whew. Brandon had to reel it in.
“The charcoal one you had on before was nice,” Brandon said, trying to be normal about this.
“The good opinion of your gentleman is important in making these decisions,” Martin said.
He seemed like an eccentric guy, which Jackson had prepared him for, but he was no weirder than a goalie.
Plus, Brandon assumed by how much he implied that Brandon and Gabe were together, that he was either gay himself or so used to gay clientele that it wasn’t a whole thing with him.
Gabe blushed. “Okay. Then the charcoal, I guess.”
“Is that the one you like?” Brandon asked, checking in to make sure that he wasn’t overstepping.
“I like it,” he said, sounding unsure. He looked back at himself in the tri-fold mirrors. After this, they would need to go get him some shoes, too. Martin had some suggestions but didn’t sell any himself. He’d been frustrated that Gabe showed up in beat-up Sambas.
“Once it fits you like a glove, you’ll like it better,” Martin assured.
They’d already spent forty minutes there getting every inch of Gabe’s body measured, but he ducked into the changing room again to put the charcoal suit back on, and it took another half hour for Martin to meticulously pin and mark every change he was going to make.
The rush job—since they needed it the next day—would make the off-the-rack suit cost nearly as much as one of the custom ones Martin preferred to sell, but it was what it was.
Gabe deserved a nice suit regardless. And talking to Ryan and Jackson about the cost of a suit like this and finding out the money guys spent on their girlfriends, or girls they were trying to win over, made his own actions feel…
normal. Normal for his extremely specific demographic.
They headed to the mall afterward for shoes and a nice button-up shirt, and Gabe took his hand as they walked from one end of the mall, bags in tow, to the other end, where the taco place Gabe vouched for was.
“We should practice being boyfriends,” Gabe said, tugging on Brandon’s hand to bring them closer together as they walked. “So tomorrow isn’t the first time we hold hands or anything.”
“Smart,” Brandon said, realizing that his hand was going to be sweaty and gross in about two seconds.
Gabe’s hand was fire in his. He’d never held a boy’s hand like this.
With romantic intention. Even if it wasn’t real, it made his heart beat twice as fast in his chest. When he looked over at Gabe, he was smiling.
“You have nice hands,” Gabe told him, and it made Brandon liquify. He didn’t care what that meant. He didn’t care what metric Gabe was using. His green eyes sparkled, and Brandon nearly walked into a bench.
“Careful,” Gabe said, tugging Brandon to safety, a smirk on his face.
He knew what he did to Brandon. It was almost a relief to see that Gabe saw right through him.
That he didn’t have to protect this secret of finding Gabe attractive.
This was the first time in his life he felt safe to just…
look. To feel his heart beating when he noticed the way Gabe’s rust-red hair curled around his ears, or how his freckles covered every inch of his skin (that Brandon could see).
Every other boy he’d ever liked had been his deepest, most stringently guarded secret.
He dropped Gabe’s hand only to wrap his arm around Gabe’s shoulders, reveling in the feeling of Gabe’s arm around his waist, the weight and heat of Gabe’s body against his as they got closer to the restaurant.
It felt as good as he’d always imagined in his daydreams of what having a boyfriend would be like.
Sure, Gabe was just his friend. The emotional piece of that experience wasn’t there.
But Gabe squeezed his waist before letting go to follow the host to their table, and Brandon could feel it through his jacket like Gabe had touched his skin.