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“Yeah, well, you know the life of a smoothie maker…live fast, die young, right?”
“Sounds good,” the man said, politely ignoring how fucking dumb Kip was being.
He turned on the blender before he could say something stupid like, What do your abs taste like?
There was just something about him. Scott wanted to talk to him for hours, and find out everything about him. Show him everything. Give him everything.
Oh no, Hunter. You are in trouble.
“Are you asking me to come get a burger with you?” Scott was absurdly terrified. But goddamn, he wanted this. “Yes.”
Scott turned pink. It was cute.
Kip was speechless. And Scott looked absolutely tortured.
But suddenly he didn’t want to eat another bite of his stupid burger. He wanted to get Scott Hunter somewhere private and let him slam Kip against a wall.
“I can keep a secret,” Kip said, almost a whisper because he wasn’t sure if the driver could hear them. “And I promise I’ll make it good for you.”
Scott looked at him with so much gratitude, it was heartbreaking.
An athlete. A guy who got stitches on the bench and was back on the ice next shift. He could take it.
Boston had their own star center, a hotshot Russian named Ilya Rozanov.
“Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
“You’re in trouble later,” he growled.
“I love you,” he said. “I just wanted to say that. Before I left.”
“I love you. Scott, I’m…completely in love with you.”
He loved Scott so much. How could he ever be good enough for him?
He hates that people saw us together.
“I propose a toast. To Kip! A guy you want to hate because he’s so handsome, but you can’t because he’s so goddamn charming.”
“I did tell you and, if you want, later we can go to Olive Garden or wherever straight people go.”
“Please stay,” Scott said. “I love you so much, Kip. I need you. Please be patient with me.”
Scott loved him. He knew that. He just wished it didn’t have to be so complicated.
And when Scott’s fists had been colliding with that asshole’s face, he’d wanted to tell him. He’d wanted him to know exactly who it was that was beating his face in. A cocksucker. A homo. Yeah, a fucking faggot is about to break your fucking jaw.
Her opinion was that Kip and Scott were both idiots.
“Scott,” Carter said, holding a hand up. “Shut the fuck up for a second. I’m gonna process this shit, and then I am gonna give you a manly hug. But just shut it for five seconds.” Scott suppressed a grin. “All right.”
“Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?”
“I’m in love with your son, ma’am. I don’t care who knows it anymore.” Kip blushed because sheesh.
“I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you, you know that?” Scott said wistfully.
“I’m gay.” Murdock froze, and stared at Scott like he’d just told him he was a wizard.
“Ah. You’re in love. That makes sense. Love makes men do all sorts of dumbass things.”
“It’s not Rozanov, is it?” “Jesus. No! Why does everyone—?” “Good. I don’t need that kind of circus.”
“You’re a bad influence, Grady.” “Mm. Corrupting New York’s perfect boy.” “I was so sweet and innocent before I met you,” Scott smirked.
Kip snorted. “Adorable?” “Tell them adorable. By the time they realize I’m a total grouch they will already be in love with me and it will be too late.”
“Well,” Kip said giddily, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” “Mm. May as well go for broke, then.” Scott kissed him again, and everything around them disappeared. It was just Scott and the man he loved, making out in a penalty box.
Scott turned toward the reporters and cameras. “So,” he said, “any questions?”
“That,” Carter said with a wide grin, “is fucking cute. He picked you up at work? I didn’t think Hunter had any game!”
“I was just celebrating a little with my boyfriend.” “I don’t think that the world was aware that you’re…” “Gay? Yes, I’m gay. I was planning on making some sort of official announcement, but what the hell, right? Everyone is here now.”
“And…are you… Is there anything you want to tell us about him?” “Absolutely. He means the world to me and I love him.”
“It’s fine,” Kip said. “Scott, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting it, but… I mean, that was romantic as hell!”
know people have been burning their Scott Hunter jerseys, which, by the way, is not a good idea. Those are polyester, and are full of chemicals.”
yes, Scott Hunter—captain of the New York Admirals and model of rugged masculinity—was going to a gay nightclub with his pretty, painted boyfriend.
Rozanov shrugged. “Wanted to see what Scott Hunter Night was. Is not as bad as it sounds.” Scott snorted and shook his head. “Did you really come to a gay bar in Vegas just to make fun of me?”
He needed to get out of here, or make peace with the fact that he was going to fuck Kip against a wall in front of god and Ilya Rozanov.
“You’re happy,” Kip observed. Scott leaned their foreheads together. “I feel invincible right now.” “Me too. Let’s change the fucking world.” Scott kissed him, hard, because Kip had described exactly how he felt. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do that.”
