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“Sorry, sir,” he stammered. “What can I—?” Kip’s mouth may have dropped open like a cartoon character’s. Possibly his jaw was on the floor, and his tongue may have rolled out of his mouth like a carpet.
“Like how we’re sitting in his personal seats because he personally gave you his personal tickets when he visited you at work for the third time this week?”
But for the first time in his career, Scott felt—absurdly—like he was leaving someone behind.
He had been playing the worst hockey of his career before he’d walked into that shop and Kip had served him that smoothie, and he’d been on fire ever since. In more ways than one, if he was being honest.
Dressed like he was, you almost couldn’t tell he was Scott Hunter. But Kip knew. And he knew that Scott Hunter had frantically bought souvenir clothing so he could go on a date with him.
The way Scott looked at him then, Kip would never forget it. If they were alone, and if he were someone else and Scott were someone else, he would have expected Scott to lunge across the table and haul him into a hungry kiss.
He pressed his lips together, like he was trying to suppress a smile. Like he was giddy about this. About Kip. Fucking incredible.
“I want to know about you.” Scott smiled down at him and began stroking his hair. “Will you tell me something? I can’t think of the right questions to ask.”
Scott stroked the backs of his fingers over Kip’s face. “It’s completely selfish, actually. I want to see you in a tux that was tailored to your gorgeous body. I might not be able to dance with you that night, but you’ll know I’ll be wishing I was.”
There were still so many things he didn’t know about him. I want to learn everything.
Kip looked relieved and delighted, and Scott kissed him, because how could he not? It might sound silly, but having these socks would help him a lot when he was away from Kip.
“Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
Scott entered the room. “Kip. Oh my god.” He strode over to him like he was the first glass of water Scott had had in days.
Scott’s fingers tapped lightly on Kip’s lower back, and Kip wondered if Scott felt like he did: too full of feeling.
“Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.
The boring, responsible one who was going to call his fucking boyfriend right now!
“Well, I’m glad she texted me. Made me feel…like what we have…” Kip was losing the thread.
It was the most important thing in Kip’s life, and he couldn’t carry it beyond the front door.
I’m going to THROW UP
Kip listened to Scott vent all evening. He kept his own problems to himself.
If someone asked Scott what he’d be willing to give up for Kip, Scott’s knee-jerk reaction would be everything. But when he thought about it, that wasn’t really true.
“I know.” Dad hugged him again. “I didn’t want to intrude, but…are you boys fighting?” “Boys? Who are you—?” Dad smiled at him knowingly, then his face sobered. “I know he must be busy right now, with the playoffs, but it seems like maybe something worse than that is going on.” What the hell?
“Hey,” Bennett said, after they separated, “what’s his name?” Scott grinned. “Kip.” Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.
“I’m talking about how you have exactly three minutes to eat that dessert because I am getting you back to my place as soon as fucking possible.” “What, no coffee?” “I’ll make you coffee in the goddamn morning.”
Now go meet your friends.” “Okay. Go win the Stanley Cup.” “Deal.”
Shawn: You. Fucking. Bitch. You lying fucking bitch. We’re getting lunch together. SOON.
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.
