CHAPTER THREE #2
Leif sneered at it. “I don’t accept drinks from you, Clayton. I remember what happened the last time I did.”
Tanner snickered, thinking about what Leif’s dick had felt like sliding into his mouth. “Yeah. Me too.”
Leif pursed his lips. “Not what I meant.”
“It’s what I meant!” Tanner said cheerfully.
“I’ll buy you a drink!” Ryan Hartinger said with a big smile as he strutted up to the table, hands in his pockets like he owned the place. “What do you want, Rassy?”
Leif pursed his lips, probably getting his panties in a bunch about the nickname. Tanner really preferred Ice Princess to Rassy, but he was pretty sure Leif hated both. It was so much fun to watch him look like he’d swallowed an extra-sour lemon every time Tanner called him that.
“White wine spritzer?” Leif said, sounding a little reluctant.
Tanner, who had just knocked back the shot Leif didn’t want, choked on it. “You drink white wine spritzers? That’s so—”
Leif leveled him with a look. “If you say it’s girly, I will make you regret it. I drink it because it’s hydrating and also my mother’s favorite drink.”
Tanner shut his mouth before he could finish his sentence. He hadn’t been about to call it girly, but he also didn’t make fun of guy’s moms. He fucked them sometimes, but he didn’t make fun of them. He loved moms!
“One white wine spritzer coming up!” Ryan said in a cheerful tone and walked away to the bar.
“Wait, I’m confused. Isn’t he retired?” someone farther down the table muttered. Rafe, maybe.
“Yes,” Zane Murphy said with a laugh as he took a seat next to Gabriel Theriault. They were off to Tanner’s left and across the table. “We both are.”
“Dude, wait, are you guys coming out of retirement to play? Because that would be siiiick,” Tanner said excitedly as the idea hit him.
“No,” Zane said, still sounding amused. “I’m assistant GM for Team USA. They announced it last year when they unveiled the tournament plan.”
“Ohhh, right, right,” Tanner said, deflating. He sort of remembered that. He would swear that sometimes shit just went straight in one ear and fell out the other. He probably should know who his assistant GM was though.
Whoops. Way to make a great impression there, Clayton.
“Dude, I fucking wish we could play,” Ryan said, sliding in on the far side of Leif—across from Zane—and handing over the spritzer. Leif shifted closer to Tanner, like he was afraid he was in Ryan’s way or something.
“We’d never win if you did,” Mickey said in a mournful voice.
“You’re not gonna anyway,” Nico chirped. “Team Canada for the win.”
Voices rose up from around the table as discussions about rosters got heated again.
In the middle of the discussion, Tanner peered around Leif to look at Ryan. “So if you’re not playing here, what are you doing?”
“Commentating,” Ryan said beaming. “This tourney needs some personality, not just some stuffy old dudes who played four hundred years ago.”
“Right on,” Tanner said, reaching across Leif to high-five Ryan.
Leif let out a little annoyed huff. “Do you mind?”
“No,” Tanner said truthfully. Leif smelled good so he didn’t mind being all up in his space. “How’s your spritzer?”
It looked like he hadn’t even touched it.
“Uhh.” Leif grabbed it and took a sip. “Good. And thank you, Mr. Hartinger.”
“Mr. Hartinger?” Ryan hooted. “Oh fuck no, dude. Call me Ryan.”
Leif shrugged. “You’re just …”
Tanner kinda got it. Ryan Hartinger was a big deal. Sure, maybe La Bouche had been the first NHL player to come out of the closet but Ryan and Zane had been the first couple to come out. The first couple to win Stanley Cups together.
And now they were married and had kids and were, like, peak couple goals for players who wanted to have it all.
Hell, the whole reason everyone was here drinking together tonight was because Ryan was the one who had gotten the Out in the NHL app going in the first place. For once, Tanner kinda agreed with Leif.
“I told you it would be weird for guys if we came to hang out,” Zane told his husband, his tone almost apologetic. “It’s different now that we’re not players anymore.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” Ryan said, shrugging as he tipped back his own drink.
“But I’m a GM—”
“Mon chum!” Gabriel called out, his face lighting up. Everyone turned to look at Noah Boucher strolling toward them with Jesse Webber by his side.
Tanner scowled. See? He wasn’t the last one there at all! They’d lied to him.
Gabriel stood, grabbed La Bouche by the shoulders, and kissed his cheeks. Noah laughed and kissed his cheeks back, both of them speaking in rapid fire Québécois as they smiled at each other.
They’d played together for years in Toronto before Gabriel was traded to Evanston. It appeared no time at all had passed.
Tanner smiled too. Not only were they good friends, Tanner was, like … ninety-nine-percent sure they’d fucked at some point too. Talk about a hot sandwich to be in the middle of. Goddamn.
La Bouche was a big red-haired Viking-looking dude. Rumor was, he had a pierced dick. Also, Tanner knew he chirped a lot and that was why they called him “The Mouth” but he’d always wondered if maybe there was another reason …
Gabriel was smaller, slimmer and shorter, but his wavy nearly black hair brushed his chin and he had gorgeous dark eyes and this … deep mysterious energy to him.
Tanner was totally into it. But they were both happily married to other people now. Ugh. Boring. So fucking boring. Why did everyone have to settle down?
And how could he and Leif be the only single guys here? This was distressing.