Chapter 6 #2
The irony is, Connor could probably come out and still be beloved by fans.
I even get the sense that he’d like to do it, but his father, who has too tight of a leash on him, would never allow it.
But the NHL’s PR team would eat it up for sure.
Connor with his charm and good boy good looks could so easily be seen as acceptable by fans.
Which in turn would make him acceptable to the higher ups in the league.
Anything goes with them if it drives up profits.
That doesn’t mean I would encourage him, though.
Locker rooms all across the league would be a nightmare for him.
Plus the chirping he’d get on the ice during games would be brutal.
In essence, he and I would run into two completely opposite problems if either of us was outed. At least in his case, he’s beloved by everyone enough that his paychecks would still roll in.
So yeah. We are playing with fire and this flirtation we’re engaging in is a terrible idea.
Unfortunately, however, the way he’s looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes as I needlessly help him off the bench, confirms that I’m doomed to keep making this mistake for the remainder of this Olympic experience.
The spell between us is broken when the gym doors open. We quickly let go of each other as two women, around our age, who are fully made up with perfect hair and makeup walk in. Connor takes a step and turns away from me, busying himself with removing the weights from the bar.
“Are we done?” he asks when he turns back to face me. The look of hope is still there, but it’s more about wanting to get away from what’s about to happen than hoping we both give in to what’s simmering between us.
“Yeah.” I toss him a towel so he can dry off his sweat. “We’re done.”
“Molly! Look!” one of the women says. I can hear the fake surprise in her voice. “That’s Connor Kennedy!”
Connor catches my eye, giving me a look that says we need to get out of here. I couldn’t agree more.
The women saunter towards us. The one who spoke has her eyes locked on Connor, while the spare looks at me.
Her gaze is assessing as she tries to place if I’m someone she should know.
Puck bunnies like this never know who I am.
They’re so focused on players like Connor.
It’s quite funny, actually. Connor is without a doubt the biggest prize in the league for one of these women to try to snag.
He scores goals, he always plays in the all-star game, and he’s talked about every morning on every sports channel.
He’s instant fame and instant money, which is, let’s be honest, exactly what these kinds of girls are always looking for.
The sad truth is it usually works—when the hotshot player in their sightline isn’t gay.
Not today, ladies. They’re barking up the wrongest two trees in the league.
The woman with her eyes focused on Connor touches his chest with her finger. “I didn’t know you boys were staying here.”
“Bullshit,” I cough and Connor blushes.
She ignores me and clearly assumes the flush of Connor’s cheeks is because of her. “I’m a big fan of yours,” she says. “I watch all of your games.”
“Thanks,” Connor says. He uses the towel I gave him to wipe his neck, which is sweating again. Are these girls making him nervous? I grin. That’s adorable.
She steps closer to him and lifts onto her tiptoes to whisper not so subtly into his ear. “I also have your jersey. I wear it to bed.”
I almost choke, trying to stop myself from laughing out loud.
Her friend notices and glares at me. “Who are you?” she asks.
Connor takes a step back to put some distance between himself and the woman that’s trying to pull him into her clutches. He places his hand on my shoulder. “This is Gavin Marshal. He’s a first line forward and alternate captain for the Buffalo Blizzards.”
“Oh!” the spare woman says. Her expression towards me lightens. “I didn’t realize.”
I grin at her. “So I take it you don’t sleep in my jersey.”
This time it’s Connor who barely conceals his laughter. He hides it by checking his watch. “It was nice to meet you, ladies,” he says. “But we need to get going. As I’m sure you can imagine, we’re on a very tight and busy schedule while we’re here.”
“Of course,” the woman who’s had eyes for Connor says. Then, undeterred, she adds, “Maybe we can catch up later? You can come to my room and sign my jersey.”
I knock him with my elbow. “Yeah, Connor. Why don’t you go sign her jersey.”
He flashes me a look and his nostrils flare, causing the bridge of his nose to wrinkle.
“Tempting,” he says to her. “But I need to keep my focus. If you’d like me to sign your jersey, I can do it in the hotel lobby this afternoon when we return from practice.
” He smiles at her. “You can probably get the entire team to sign.” He pats me on the back and gives me a forceful push that if I was a smaller man, would have moved me.
“Come on, Marshal. Or we’re going to be late for breakfast.”
I flutter my fingers at the women and give them a wink. “Bye-bye, ladies.”
“You’re such a dick,” Connor says with a laugh under his breath once we reach the door.
“You like it,” I say, placing my hands on his shoulders to jostle him.
“You’re right.” He flushes again. “I do.”
And yep. Unless I can get this under control, I’m right back to being completely fucked.