Chapter Twenty #2
Troy glanced at Harris. “Would you be mad if I ordered a beer?”
“Of course not. Do you like pilsners? My buddy Johnathan runs Portage Brewery and they make a killer pilsner.”
“Are you friends with everyone?”
Harris shrugged. “I like people and I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“Sure,” Troy said to Manu. “I’ll try one of the pilsners.”
Manu went to get their drinks, but not before a parting glance at Harris that seemed to say a lot of things Troy couldn’t translate. He recognized Harris’s bashful smile, though.
“Is this a date?” Troy blurted out.
Harris’s eyes went wide. “Huh?”
“You said you just had an extra ticket, but...is this a date?”
“Do you want it to be?”
Troy narrowed his eyes. “Do you want it to be?”
Harris leaned one elbow on the bar. “This game sucks. Let’s just be honest.”
“Okay,” Troy said, as if that were an easy thing to do.
“I’m trying to give you space, like you asked. But I lied about the ticket. I bought it for you. I want this to be a date.”
Troy’s heart did a little shimmy. “So do I.”
Harris beamed. “Well, okay then. We’re on a date.”
Troy smiled back at him. “Let’s do it.”
Fabian Salah knew how to put on a show. Troy had never seen anything like it.
Fabian stood alone on stage, but somehow created a wall of sound all by himself using his violin, various pedals, an electric piano, a laptop and who knew what else.
You could hear a pin drop in the packed club when he was singing, his voice clear and ethereal.
He was also wearing wings. Huge, black, elaborately feathered wings. And a black minidress. And gold, strappy sandals that went all the way up to his knees. And, like, a lot of makeup.
This was Ryan Price’s boyfriend. Ryan Price. One of the fiercest enforcers in NHL history. Quiet, socially awkward, enormous Ryan Price.
It was blowing Troy’s mind.
But mostly he was watching Harris, who was watching Fabian with rapt admiration. Troy understood; the music combined with the spectacle of a man performing it was pretty incredible.
And sexy as hell. There was something profoundly erotic about the entire experience, though Troy’s confused brain couldn’t quite sort out exactly what it was.
Maybe it was Fabian’s confidence—his courage to present himself so openly and shamelessly.
The lyrics were sexy, too. Were they about Ryan? Jesus.
In the middle of one of Fabian’s songs, Troy brushed his fingers over the back of Harris’s hand. He’d been wanting to touch him all night, and Fabian was inspiring him to be brave.
Harris smiled at him and then, suddenly, they were holding hands.
A warmth seemed to radiate from their joined palms and it filled Troy’s whole body.
He could do this. He could hold this man’s hand in public because he wanted to.
Because Harris made him happy and Troy was so fucking tired of being miserable.
They stayed like that, fingers tangled together, for the rest of the song. They broke apart to applaud, then automatically took each other’s hand again.
After the encore, and the applause had died down, Troy tugged Harris toward him. “Thank you for inviting me. That was amazing.”
“Right? He’s, like, life changing. I can’t believe he’s a real person.”
“I can’t believe he’s dating Ryan Price.”
“I know!” Harris glanced around. “I wonder if Price is here. He usually travels with him.”
Troy glanced around too, and found Ryan near the back of the room. He was easy to spot, since he was the tallest person in the room, and had very red hair.
Troy made a decision. “I want to talk to him.”
Harris nodded. “Then you should. You want me to stay here?”
“Maybe. I won’t be long.” He locked eyes with Harris. “I’ll find you.”
“You’d better.”
Impulsively, Troy leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Then he darted away before he could see Harris’s reaction.
Ryan was standing alone when Troy approached him. He could see the exact moment Ryan recognized him, because his expression shifted from someone who was probably fantasizing about his impressive boyfriend to one of wide-eyed anxiety.
“Hey,” Troy said when he was in front of him.
“Barrett? What are you doing here?”
“I came with a friend.”
Ryan’s eyes darted around anxiously as if he expected to see Dallas Kent. “Why are you in Ottawa?”
That question surprised Troy. “I play here now.”
“Oh.” Ryan looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I don’t follow hockey too closely anymore.”
“It’s okay.” Troy tilted his head toward the now-empty stage. “Is that really your boyfriend?”
Ryan’s face shifted again into a proud smile. “Yeah. I know, I can’t believe it either.”
His hair had always been long and he usually had a thick, sometimes unruly, beard covering his face.
Now his hair had been cut shorter than Troy had ever seen it, and his beard had been reduced to dark red stubble.
It turned out that Ryan had been hiding a very handsome face and a nice smile under all that hair.
“You look good,” Troy said, because he owed this guy a compliment. And so many apologies. “Look, um, I know this probably won’t mean much to you, but I want to apologize. I was a complete asshole to you when we played together, and I’m sorry. It makes me sick thinking about how I treated you.”
Ryan had clearly not been expecting any of that, the way his mouth fell open. “Uh, okay. No problem.”
“Especially about the fear of flying thing. I can’t believe how horrible and immature I was. And I kind of got a taste of how you must have felt.”
“Right. I heard about the plane thing. I didn’t know you were on that plane because I didn’t know you played for Ottawa, but, um, it seemed like a nightmare.”
“It was pretty fucking scary.”
“I don’t even want to think about it. I haven’t been on a plane since I quit hockey.”
“Really? I heard that you travel with your boyfriend when he tours.”
“We drive. Or he flies alone. I don’t go on every trip.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Who’s telling you all of this?”
“Uh...” Okay, so this was the other thing Troy wanted to talk about. “My friend Harris. He’s a big fan of Fabian’s and he does the social media for the Centaurs. He’s...gay.”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a gay friend now?”
“Yeah, uh. That’s the other thing I wanted to apologize for. I said a lot of homophobic shit when I played for Toronto and I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to make excuses, but I was kind of...hiding behind it, if you know what I mean. That doesn’t make it less shitty. But it’s why I did it.”
He could see Ryan putting things together in his head. “Wait. You’re gay?”
Troy swallowed. “Yes.”
Ryan blew out a breath. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“I know.”
Troy couldn’t tell from Ryan’s expression if he actually cared about any of this.
“Does your friend know you’re gay?” Ryan asked.
“Who? Harris?”
“No, Dallas.”
Troy’s stomach clenched the way it always did when he heard Dallas’s name. “Wow. You really haven’t been following hockey. We’re not friends anymore.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I know.”
Both men shared an awkward silence, then Ryan said, “I should go meet Fabian backstage. But, um...”
“Yeah. Of course. Go.” Troy hesitated, then said, “I’m glad you’re happy, Ryan.”
Ryan nodded. “Good luck with, y’know, figuring everything out.”
He left quickly without a glance back, which Troy couldn’t blame him for. He was glad he’d gotten a chance to apologize, but he didn’t expect Ryan to want to talk to him for any longer than he needed to.
But there was someone here who did want to talk to Troy. Who always had time for him, and seemed to really care about him. And Troy wasn’t going to keep him waiting.
Harris had found friends to talk to while Troy was busy with Ryan, so he hadn’t been bored. But a thrill shot through him when he spotted Troy walking toward him.
“You found me,” Harris said.
“I said I would.”
Then he placed a hand on Harris’s cheek, tilted his head, and kissed him. Full on the mouth. With people all around them.
And suddenly, there was no one around them. At least not as far as Harris was concerned. All that existed in the world was the firm, warm press of Troy’s lips against his own, and the slow, gentle tangle of their tongues.
Troy began to pull away, but Harris nipped at his bottom lip, pulling him back in for another long, luxurious kiss.
“Wow,” Harris said, dazed, when they finally broke for air. He hadn’t been expecting anything like this when he’d invited Troy out tonight. He hadn’t expected, but he’d hoped. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wanting to do it all night, and—” Troy’s smile was wider and brighter than Harris had ever seen it, and his eyes shone with an excited energy. “I don’t do things I want to do very often. I like kissing you.”
“Oh,” Harris said. “Good.”
Troy was still cradling Harris’s face. “Come home with me?”
“Okay,” Harris said, still light-headed from the kiss.
Then Troy kissed him again. It was quick, but sweet because he was still smiling.
“Sorry,” Troy said. “Last one, I promise.”
“I hope not.” Harris took his hand. “Let’s get our coats.”