Chapter 27 #2
“I can barely see the puck during the game,” said Quinn. “How you can find it in that chaos astounds me, but that’s why you make the big bucks.”
The elevator arrived at the first floor, and the doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a lobby filled with people having quiet conversations. August exited first, smiling at Quinn as he gestured for him to follow.
“Start a list—write this down—”
“Nope,” Quinn said, raising his hands. “I blatantly refuse.”
“A chirp is our word for trash talk, but you probably knew that one because it’s a basic example.”
“August—”
“A pylon is someone who moves so slow that everyone can get around them, and a hoser is basically our version of a loser.”
Everyone was looking at them, and Quinn didn’t know if it was because August was so tall or if it was because they recognized him, but he was suddenly feeling too hot in his winter coat.
“And a dangler is a person who’s good at maneuvering the puck, so guys like Niko.”
August was listing the nonsensical hockey words to fuck with Quinn; that much was evident by the smirk on his face. They made it outside while August continued his ramble, and Quinn took a deep breath of cold air to cool himself down.
He didn’t know how far they were going, but once August gave up on his verbal torture and focused on leading Quinn to their destination, the walk became more pleasant.
The air was biting, and everyone was still staring at them, but Quinn found he didn’t mind the weather or the attention because August’s smiles and chuckles were growing on him.
He wished, for the first time maybe, that they were something more. Quinn found himself wanting to hold August’s hand, and even if they had to remain professional while surrounded by the public, no one would fault them for sharing a chaste kiss or two.
But instead, Quinn kept quiet and enjoyed August’s company, trying not to linger on the what-ifs so he could be in the moment.
Stop overthinking, Eren had told him.
Quinn scoffed.
Easier said than done.
When they were spotted by a small group of Toronto Sunburst fans, they shyly approached and asked August for an autograph.
Quinn figured August would shoot them down because they technically cheered for an enemy team, but he was surprised when August accepted their marker and flashed them a cocky grin.
“You guys have anything of Jett’s for me to scribble on?” August asked. “Preferably something that says Fraser so I can take a picture and send it to him.”
This seemed to delight the cackling teenagers who were quick to produce items for him to sign. But August lit up when one of the boys showed him the jersey he was wearing under his jacket with the name Fraser and the number twenty-five on the back.
“Oh, he’s going to be so pissed.” August gleefully signed the jersey and then took his phone out so he could snap a picture while the teens laughed.
“Are you and Killinger friends?” another boy asked. “We see you and Jett chatting during your games, but it’s hard to tell if we’re not close enough to hear, you know?”
“You could say that,” said August. “But who doesn’t like dogs? Jett’s more shaggy poodle than human—especially when he grows out those ridiculous curls of his.”
That earned August another round of rowdy laughter and a few fist bumps, which left Quinn feeling lost because wasn’t August insulting their star player?
When everything was signed, the teens respectfully said their goodbyes and wished August good luck for the All-Star game tomorrow, and then they were alone again.
Quinn waited until they were walking before he spoke.
“For some reason, you’re more cheerful with fans than I expected you to be.”
August’s smile turned pinched, and Quinn responded by taking his wrist.
“It’s not that I didn’t think you were capable of being nice,” said Quinn. “It’s just—you can be standoffish when you want to be.”
August paused to remove Quinn’s grip from his wrist, only to relocate it to his hand. Quinn was so stunned by the move that he forgot about his earlier hesitation, and by the time he remembered, it was too late.
“I’m good with the kids,” said August. “I love kids, and when they’re young, they’re usually not scared of me.”
Quinn frowned as his brain filtered this new information. He never thought about how mentally taxing it would be to walk into a room and see happy expressions shift into terror or disbelief.
“Those guys were good,” August continued. “They were shy, but I knew they weren’t scared. I’ll be less of a dick if they’re not wetting themselves when they approach me. And doing things to piss off my friends is always fun, so I had ulterior motives.”
Quinn sensed that, but he was glad August hadn’t told the kids to fuck off.
“Does it bother you when strangers walk up to you like that?” Quinn asked, genuinely curious. He was so immersed in hockey now that he often forgot these guys were celebrities. “I don’t think I’d like being known to everyone.”
“Um—” August dropped Quinn’s hand as if it had burned him.
“Shit, okay. I’m sorry, I should have asked about that before I held your hand.
Don’t freak out, but photographers have been following us since the hotel.
They’ve probably taken hundreds of pictures of us by now, so you may not be anonymous for long. ”
Quinn spun around, and sure enough, two guys were doing a poor job of staying out of sight while they pointed cameras in their direction.
He blinked, slowly returning his gaze to August, who looked pale and panicked.
“Don’t you care that they’re taking pictures of us—together?” Quinn asked.
To the public eye, August was straight and one of Canada’s most sought-after bachelors. And while no one could give him a hard time about his sexuality in this day and age, Quinn suspected that he would prefer to have his private life private.
“I don’t give a fuck,” said August, and something in his eyes went…dark. “Let them see. Especially my mother.”
Quinn waited in shocked silence for further explanation, but when August failed to provide him with one, he dropped the subject and took August’s hand back.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice we were being followed,” Quinn muttered.
August intertwined their fingers, and the smile from before returned to its former brightness. “I thought it was cute, but I guess it’s hard to see what’s going on around you when you’re too busy looking at me.”
Quinn squeezed his hand in silent retaliation. “Shut up.”
August’s laugh was infectious, and Quinn found himself smiling alongside him.
“You really don’t mind?” asked August.
Was Quinn ready to have a bunch of strangers on the internet hunting down information about him? No.
Did he like holding hands with August? Yes.
The two cancelled each other out, and since the pictures had already been taken, he may as well enjoy himself and try his best to go with it.
“It is what it is at this point,” said Quinn. “As long as you don’t lash out when someone asks you a question about your sexuality, consider me unbothered.”
August seemed satisfied with his answer, but just because they had made it over that small hurdle didn’t mean Quinn wasn’t thinking about August’s previous words.
Did August and his mother have a falling out? Quinn couldn’t remember hearing August talking negatively about her, but he also hadn’t been keeping up with hometown gossip because the drama did nothing but bring him pain.
Quinn was so busy pondering what had happened that he didn’t realize they had reached their destination until they were standing in front of a massive building with bizarre glass windows, and his legs went shaky.
He would recognize the building anywhere because Quinn had been wanting to visit again for the longest time, and he was confused by August’s choice to bring him there.
“Did you ask Eren for tips?” Quinn asked.
August cringed like something sour had just been shoved in his mouth. “Did I ask Callahan, my captain, for tips about where to bring his brother for a date? Fuck no.”
Well, when he put it like that…
“You’re an artist, and this is an art gallery,” said August, giving him the simple explanation. “I figured it was a safe bet.”
“This isn’t an art gallery,” said Quinn. “This is the Art Gallery of Ontario. I came here once after high school, and that visit is what made me want to major in art.”
August was brushing his fingers over Quinn’s cold ones in a repetitive, self-soothing motion. “Wait, does this mean I did a good job? I can’t tell because you look a little mad—but I’m also hearing excitement, so help a guy out.”
Quinn nudged their arms together in a soft, playful bump meant to shake August out of his spiralling thoughts. “You did so good,” he murmured, using the same warm, coaxing tone he’d used the night he tied August up—and knowing exactly what it would do to him.
As he had hoped, August reacted with a flutter of lashes and a dopey smile, looking eager to earn more praise from him.
And Quinn would give it, but first—
“Come on,” said Quinn, tugging August’s arm. “Let’s get out of the cold. I want to ramble on about art facts so I can get revenge for your weird hockey list earlier.”
August followed, smirking despite Quinn’s threats. “Except I want to hear you talk about your passion,” and then added, “I like the sound of your voice.”
Quinn’s heart tripped beneath his ribs, fluttering in a way that made him feel suddenly, stupidly exposed, like it wanted to break free and throw itself into August’s hands.
A low, electric buzz crawled through his body as they stepped inside and paid the entry fee, and Quinn knew he wouldn’t be able to stand still, let alone enjoy the quiet, unless he did something with this pent-up energy.
There weren’t many people around since it was nearing dinner time, and the city was alive with hockey fans, so no one saw Quinn pushing August into a bathroom, hiding them from sight.
August didn’t protest as Quinn brought them to the last stall, double-checking that they were alone before they were inside with the door locked.
“What are you—”
Quinn walked into his space, crowding August against the tiled wall as their breathing turned ragged. “Just a kiss,” he said.
August was already reaching for him, stroking a thumb along Quinn’s jaw and cupping his face, bringing them closer until Quinn was on his tiptoes, preparing for the contact.
“What do you want from me?” Quinn whispered against August’s mouth. “Other than to drive me mad?”
August pressed the barest hint of a kiss to Quinn’s lips and drew back. “I want you, but I don’t know if you’ll let me have you.”
Quinn’s eyes fluttered closed when August brought them together for another brief kiss. “What did I tell you before we agreed to this?”
August smirked against his mouth and let out a breathy laugh. “Don’t fall in love with you.”
Another kiss—this one deeper and more urgent than the last. Quinn’s toes curled in his boots, and his breath left him in a gasp. “And?”
More laughter.
“I heard what you were saying, but tell that to my damn heart.”
Quinn moaned into August’s mouth, sweeping his tongue inside to taste him as he wrapped his arms around the back of his neck to steady himself.
His traitorous heart didn’t seem to be listening either because it was beating frantically in his chest, skipping repetitively when August’s calloused hands slipped under his shirt to touch his heated skin.
Shit—shit—shit!
August stepped back, ending the kiss and putting some much-needed space between them. They were both a panting, blushing mess, but it was clear that these feelings weren’t going to leave anytime soon.
“Don’t think about it now,” said August. “Can we just—keep going until—”
Blood spilled from August’s nose, sliding down his chin before dripping onto the floor, swiftly ending the conversation. Quinn scrambled for a handful of toilet paper and shoved it into August’s face, holding it there until it was taken from him.
“Fuck’s sake, August.” Quinn hated the nosebleeds. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were happening for a reason he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
And he didn’t like how tears were forming in August’s eyes, like he was…ashamed? Scared?
August turned and unlocked the stall door, pressing himself to the wall so Quinn had enough room to get past. “Go,” he said. “Give me a second to stop the bleeding, and then I’ll join you. That way it doesn’t look like we were making out in a public bathroom.”
Quinn wanted to stay, even with August smiling at him reassuringly. He didn’t want to leave him alone, bleeding into a tissue, looking lost, while Quinn got to walk away, but he also didn’t want to get banned from the gallery for inappropriate behaviour if they got caught.
“I’ll wait for you,” said Quinn.
August pinched his nose tighter, letting out a defeated chuckle. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Quinn knew damn-well he wasn’t talking about waiting for him outside of the bathroom, but he returned August’s smile anyway before he left, shaking his head at August’s fucking audacity.
It was all fun and games until someone wound up trussed like a present, and they both knew whose skin Quinn’s knots would be decorating when they returned to Vancouver.