Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
[Image Description: Casino interior full of people in black tie.
Nick Tiernan stands at a roulette table, wearing a dark gray tuxedo.
He stands next to a young woman with long, dark hair wearing a backless red dress, leaning in close; his hand hovers over her lower back, and he appears to be whispering in her ear. She is smiling.]
@TMZ: Up to his old Trix? NVD captain Nick Tiernan seen getting cozy with actress Helena Sharp at a charity casino night put on by the Dragons. The pair reportedly left the event together. Are we seeing a return of the hockey star’s party-boy attitude?
Despite having reiterated several times over that getting lunch with Matt is not a date, Nick still finds himself anxiously checking himself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the rink before getting ready to leave.
He’s a little later than intended, so Matt is already waiting for him. He stands at the sight of Nick, and there’s an awkward moment where they aren’t sure how to greet each other, eventually settling on a somewhat clumsy bro-hug that lasts a second too long.
He feels ridiculous for the way his stomach bubbles with excitement; it’s literally only been ten days since he last saw Matt, but as they take their seats he studies the planes of his face like they’ve been apart for months. “Hi,” he says, watching a shy little grin tug at Matt’s mouth.
“Hey.”
They sit there, staring at each other, until someone a few feet away loudly scrapes their chair across the floor. “I, uh, menus,” Matt says, holding one out to Nick. “I haven’t really had the chance to look yet.”
“Oh, I’ve been here before. I know what I’m getting.”
“Any recommendations?”
Matt scoots his chair closer, ostensibly so they can both look at the menu, but all Nick can focus on is the way their thighs press together beneath the small table.
Heat flickers down his spine, and he leans in as much as he dares in public.
“Literally everything on the menu is amazing. You can’t really go wrong. ”
“Wow, high praise,” Matt remarks, sneaking his foot between Nick’s, their ankles crossing as he ever so slightly hooks them together with a wink. “Anyway, how have you been? Six games since I last saw you, and all of them winners. Could give a guy an ego, y’know.”
Nick rolls his eyes, cheeks growing pink. “We’re having a good run.”
“I’ll say. Almost made Joel cry the other day, beating Pittsburgh. Casey’s hoping I’ll do something to sabotage you for tomorrow.” Matt’s wolfish grin suggests exactly what kind of thing that would be, and Nick’s face heats further.
“I thought all of you were Dragons fans now?” he says instead, pouting.
“Oh, babe, we are, but there’s still some hometown pride left in ’em and you’ve gotta respect that.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” Nick was always more of a New York fan despite growing up in New Jersey, and he still feels a little guilty every time he beats them. Mostly because Amy makes sure of it.
He looks up when a waitress approaches, beaming at the familiar face. “Hey, Cindy!”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Tiernan,” she says brightly, surprised gaze landing on Matt. “Now, this isn’t one of your teammates, unless there’s been a trade I don’t know about.”
“Ha! No, this is my buddy Matt.” Nick can be normal about this, see?
“Nick’s been talking up the food here,” Matt says, “so I figured he’d better put his money where his mouth is.”
Cindy laughs, tucking a bleach-blonde curl behind her ear. She’s been waitressing here for as long as Nick’s known the place—she’s about his mom’s age, maybe a little older, and all her kids have grown up and moved away, wanting to raise their own families in quieter cities.
“He’s a boy with a lot of pretty words about a lot of things,” is all she says, and Nick presses a hand to his heart, mock-wounded.
“C’mon, Cindy, you know I’d never lie about that. Can I get my usual?”
“You sure can, sweetie. You want the pumpkin spice too?”
“You know I do.”
Beside him, Matt laughs. “Of course you’re a PSL guy.”
“Sometimes things are popular because they’re good, y’know,” Nick responds primly. Cindy giggles, and he shakes his head at her. “Honestly, I get no respect around here.”
“You want respect, go back to your ice rink,” she jokes. Taking Matt’s order with a fond smile, she pats Nick on the shoulder as she walks away, promising to be back with their drinks shortly.
When she’s out of earshot, Matt pins him with a look. “Been here before, huh?”
“Oh, y’know, once or twice a week since I moved here,” he says with a shrug. “It’s a great place. And the fans haven’t found it yet.”
“I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t have found it if you hadn’t given me directions.”
That does help, that it’s tucked away off the main strip between two much flashier buildings.
“It’s cute that you get on so well with the waitress, though.
Not a lot of people on your kinda paycheck have the time for that these days.
” Matt’s brown eyes soften, and Nick stares at him for possibly a beat too long.
He really wishes he could hold his hand, but as safe as this place usually is for him, he thinks that’s pushing it.
Besides, holding hands isn’t casual.
“My mom waitressed at, like, three different places to afford my hockey gear when I was a kid,” he admits, running a hand through his hair just so he doesn’t try and grab for Matt’s.
“I used to sit and do my homework in a back booth after practice while I waited for her to finish, and—God, some people are assholes to service staff, y’know? ”
“Oh, I was a barista all through college, I’m well aware.” Matt smiles. “That’s really great of your mom to do that for you, though. She must love you a lot.”
Nick swallows thickly, the back of his neck prickling.
“I—She does. She was great,” he says slowly.
“Did everything she could to give me and my sister the opportunities we wanted. But, I mean, by the time I was sixteen I was living away full-time for hockey, and Amy—my sister—was having a tough time at school… Mom only really had the energy to focus on one of us. And I was doing fine.” Until he wasn’t, but by that point the distance had done its damage, and the idea of reaching out just felt impossible.
As an adult, Nick loves his mom to the ends of the earth, but they don’t really understand each other these days.
He doesn’t call as much as he should; she’s always busy when he’s playing on the east coast; it’s just one thing after another.
She still loves him, he doesn’t doubt that, but she doesn’t know him anymore, and he hasn’t really tried to let her.
“I’m sorry,” Matt starts. Nick brushes him off with a too-bright smile, shaking his head.
“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to get all into my family shit, that’s my bad.” He’s dangerously comfortable around Matt—he never talks about stuff like that.
“I don’t mind,” Matt insists, curling his ankle a little tighter around Nick’s. “But we can change the subject if it’s a sore one. It’s okay.”
He’s saved from coming up with a response by Cindy arriving with their coffees. Nick’s has a small mountain of whipped cream and some caramel syrup on top, and Matt goggles at it. “You are a child.”
“Look, okay, if I’m going to survive this stupid charity gala tonight, I’m going to need this. Let me have my vices.”
“Sometimes,” Cindy mock-whispers, leaning in towards Matt, “when he’s having a really bad day, he orders a hot chocolate with about half a cup of mini marshmallows.”
“Cindy!” Nick whines. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Matt’s head tips back with the force of his laugh, his slouchy beanie almost falling off his head. “I love it,” he declares, delighted. “You’ve got a secret sweet tooth, huh?”
“Apparently, not that secret,” Nick grumbles, shooting Cindy a look of betrayal. She pats his shoulder sympathetically.
“Don’t worry, hun, I won’t tell him about the pancakes.”
“What pancakes?” Matt asks, but she’s already walking away. He turns to Nick. “What pancakes?”
“No,” Nick says, shaking his head. Matt’s lower lip sticks out, his brown eyes going wide in the most exaggerated puppy-dog expression Nick’s seen since Howie’s daughter tried to get a piggyback ride out of him.
“No. Damn it, don’t look at me like that!
” Matt doesn’t look away, letting that pouting lip wobble.
“Ugh. Fine. During playoffs I come here once a week after closing time and stress-eat my weight in pancakes,” he confesses, arms folded defensively across his chest. “It’s hard, okay, and by that point in the season I need to eat, like, a million calories.
There’s only so much pasta I can take.” It’s still carb-loading, kinda.
“And now I know who to come for if that makes it into the gossip blogs.”
Matt mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the keys, eyes sparkling. “You’re adorable,” he murmurs under his breath, bringing a pink flush to Nick’s neck.
He’s grateful when Cindy brings their meals over—without sharing any more embarrassing tidbits of information—to give him a distraction from how good Matt looks when he smiles like that.
The conversation turns to Matt’s time away, both in LA and Phoenix. Nick admits to having watched one of the LA interviews on YouTube, which garners some teasing, but he can tell Matt is flattered.
“The festival was awesome,” Matt relays.
“It was kinda small and we were on right before the headliners so it was a little chaotic, but we got to hang out for the whole weekend and see some of the other bands perform, which was rad. And the crowd was super nice—they even seemed to know a bunch of our songs!”
“Well yeah, you’re kinda famous, dude,” Nick points out with a grin. Matt, mouth full of sandwich, flips him off.