Chapter Sixteen #3
With three minutes left, getting close to the point where New York was probably going to pull their goalie for the extra attacker, Troy got a breakaway.
Dykstra put the puck on his stick in the Ottawa zone and Troy took off.
He was one of the fastest skaters in the league, and a skilled stick handler.
He poked the puck between the legs of the New York defenseman in his way, picked it up on the other side, and then he was all alone, closing in on the goalie.
Tommy Andersson was a good goalie, but Troy faked him out easily, dangling the puck and getting it over Andersson’s outstretched leg.
It was a highlight reel goal for sure.
His linemates were on top of him a second later. Bood jostled his helmet and said, “I like those show-off goals of yours a lot more when we’re on the same team.”
After the game, most of the team went to celebrate at a bar called Monk’s that Troy learned was a team favorite. It was an older tavern in the Glebe, not far from Troy’s apartment.
Troy was sitting at a table with Evan Dykstra, Wyatt, and Wyatt’s wife, Lisa. Quite a few wives and girlfriends had shown up at the bar, which Troy thought was cool. In Toronto, there’d been an unspoken no-partners rule for most team celebrations.
“I just ended my shift and I’ve never needed a beer more,” Lisa said after her first sip. “If I fall asleep in a minute, just ignore me.”
Wyatt wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Let me know when you want to leave, champ. We can continue the celebrations at home.”
She shoved his chest lightly. “My celebrations involve a shower and bed.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Mine too.”
Evan laughed. “I think Caitlin fell asleep hours ago. She said she was going to watch the game, but her texts stopped after the first period.”
“I don’t blame her,” Lisa said sympathetically. “How is Susie doing?”
Evan lit up and started talking at length about his one-year-old daughter. Lisa smiled as she listened, but Troy noticed her snuggling closer into Wyatt, her eyelids growing heavier.
Troy scanned the bar to see what everyone else was up to. Ilya was loudly trash-talking Bood as they played pool. A rowdy table full of the younger players was littered with empty pitchers, which probably wasn’t good.
Then he spotted Harris at the bar, and he stopped looking anywhere else. He hadn’t noticed Harris come in, but he wasn’t surprised that he was here. He was wearing a denim shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms.
And he was talking to a very tall and attractive dark-haired man. Smiling at him. Laughing. And the other man was smiling and laughing too.
Troy’s jaw clenched. He had no claim on Harris, obviously, but seeing him with another man made Troy realize that he’d been hoping to go home with Harris himself tonight.
He pushed back from the table and went to the bathroom. Maybe by the time he returned Harris would already have left with Johnny Handsome.
The bathroom was empty when he walked in. He parked himself at a urinal, and as he was opening his fly, the door opened behind him.
“Barrett,” said Ilya Rozanov’s voice.
Ilya sidled up to the urinal next to Troy, which was...cozy. Ilya was a weird guy, though, so it made sense.
“Having fun?” Ilya asked.
“Um.”
“At the bar. Not in here.”
“Yeah, sure.” Troy tried to finish up as quickly as possible, but he’d drunk a lot of beer.
“Feels good to win.” Ilya finished first, zipped himself up, and headed for the sinks. “To have something to celebrate.”
“Hey, uh.” Troy got himself tucked away and followed Ilya. “That speech before the game... I don’t think we would have won without it.”
“Everyone worked hard tonight,” Ilya said as he inspected himself in the mirror. “You did a good job today.”
“It was a pretty nice goal,” Troy admitted.
“Not the goal. The posts you made. Instagram. It was good shit, Barrett.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you saw those.”
Ilya’s lips quirked into a teasing half smile. “I follow you. Did you not see?”
“I didn’t really check after I posted those.”
“You should. People like them. Especially after I shared them.”
Oh god. Didn’t Ilya have like hundreds of thousands of followers? Troy knew that the point of social media was to get your thoughts and photos seen by as many people as possible, but he still felt anxious. “So lots of people have seen them then?”
“Yes.” Ilya clapped him on the shoulder. “Like I said. Good job.”
Ilya left the bathroom, and Troy stared at the door, unsure if he was ready to go back out there.
Unsure of who he even was anymore. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin.
It had been easy, being an asshole. It had been safe.
Now he was suddenly standing up for shit, and putting himself out there online, and thinking about publicly coming out as gay, and maybe seeing if Harris wanted to kiss him again.
He had no one to hide behind anymore, and the mask was so full of cracks he may as well throw it out.
Troy left the bathroom and, though he knew it was a bad idea, made a beeline toward the bar. And Harris. And the hot man Harris was probably flirting with.
“Troy!” Harris called out happily as soon as he spotted him. “Amazing goal tonight. Holy shit.”
“Thanks.” Troy’s gaze was fixed on the smoke show Harris was practically holding hands with. How many amazing goals did you score tonight, buddy?
“This is Alain,” Harris said. “Alain, this is Troy Barrett.”
Alain stuck out his hand and Troy, after frowning at it for a second, shook it. Alain’s hand was warm and strong, and his dark eyes were so beautiful they were hard to look at directly.
“Hi, Alain,” Troy mumbled.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Alain said with a heavy Quebecois accent. “Gen was telling me about your Instagram.”
“Oh?”
“Alain is Gen’s boyfriend,” Harris supplied.
It was embarrassing how relieved Troy was by that. “That’s cool. Gen seems great.”
At that moment, Gen came up behind Alain. “Gen is great. Oh, hi, Troy. Nice goal tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“The GIF I posted of it has a zillion likes already,” Harris said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup. And so do your Instagram posts now that the team accounts’ve shared them.”
Troy felt a confusing mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. “You saw those, huh?”
“No thanks to you.” Harris punched his arm playfully. “You didn’t tell me you created an account! Or that you were going to use it to be a fucking hero.”
“As if.” Troy’s cheeks heated. “I had to, um, watch some tutorials, figuring out how to do some stuff, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“I love your posts, Troy,” Gen said. “That’s how you be an ally. Keep it up.”
An ally. Troy supposed that’s what he was, or what he was trying to be. Not a hero, certainly. “Thanks. I will.”
Gen turned to Alain and said something to him in rapid French. Then she said, to Harris and Troy, “We’re going to head out.”
Harris gave each of them a hug while Troy stood awkwardly to the side.
“So,” Harris said, after they left, “you want a drink?”
“Nah, I had a couple of beers already. I think I’m good.” He gestured to Harris’s pint glass. “Is that your sisters’ cider?”
“You bet. They have it on tap here.”
“Nice.”
An awkward silence fell between them. It had been a pretty excellent day all around for Troy, and he couldn’t help but think that the perfect way to cap it would be pinning Harris to a wall somewhere and kissing him breathless.
If Harris was into that.
“We haven’t talked really. Since we got back from Florida,” Troy said.
“I noticed that too.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you or anything. It’s not because we, uh. Y’know.”
Harris’s eyes twinkled. “You sure?”
Troy couldn’t lie to him. “Maybe it is. I’m kind of embarrassed about it.”
Harris huffed. “Well, that’s not what I want to hear.”
“No! I mean, I’m not embarrassed about...what we did. It’s because I kind of dumped a bunch of stuff on you and bolted.”
“You did,” Harris agreed. “But to be fair, it was a weird couple of days.”
“Yeah, well.” Troy ducked his head. “I also said that what we did wasn’t a big deal. But the thing is, it kind of...was.”
Harris’s eyes widened.
“For me, at least,” Troy said quickly. “I don’t usually...do that. I’ve only ever done that with, um...well, you know.” He hoped someday he’d be able to talk about being gay, about dating men, in a public place, but today wasn’t that day.
“I know,” Harris said gently. “When I left your hotel room after saying all that stuff, I spent the rest of the night thinking about what a big deal it must have been for you. All of it. What we did. What you were able to tell me. And I’m honored you trust me enough to share that with me.”
Troy nudged the leg of a bar stool with his toe. “I do. Trust you. And, um. I liked what we did. A lot.”
Harris put a hand on his arm, warm and steady. “Troy. Would you like to do what we did again?”
Troy’s heart sped up, but he managed to nod.
“Would you like to do it...right now?”
Troy couldn’t answer. He just stared, stunned at Harris’s easy proposition. His gaze focused on Harris’s lips, glistening with his last swig of cider.
Harris stepped slightly closer. “Because I would really like to.”
Troy felt light-headed and couldn’t think of anything except crushing their mouths together. His cock was already firming up, which was going to be noticeable in the snug jeans he was wearing.
“Yeah,” he whispered, then, more loudly and steadily, said, “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Harris stepped back, and Troy damn near fell forward trying to chase his warmth. Harris steadied him with a helpful hand and laughed. “You sure you only had two beers?”
“I’m not drunk,” Troy promised, straightening. “I’m just...eager.”
Harris leaned into him, his breath brushing Troy’s ear. “I can work with eager. Let’s get our coats and get out of here.”