Game Changer (Game Changers, #1)

by Rachel Reid

“No! I mean… I get hints that maybe…” “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?”

“Thanks.” Scott frowned. Why was this so awkward? “Tomorrow morning, then.” “Yes. Tomorrow.” Fuck it. Scott strode over to Kip and kissed him. He held his face in his hands and tried to show him what he was feeling, since he couldn’t tell him.

Scott couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached for Kip, who came to him immediately. Scott kissed him and an instant calm settled throughout his body. He had needed this so badly. He had been thinking of almost nothing but Kip’s mouth for over two days. It was a miracle that he had played as well as he had in the two games since his and Kip’s night together.

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.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine. Has he looked yet?” “No. But if he does come over here—Okay, he sees you.” “How can you tell?” “Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”

“Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.

“Kip,” Maria said, “you didn’t tell me that all of your cute dude friends are gay. What is even the point of me being here?” “I did tell you and, if you want, later we can go to Olive Garden or wherever straight people go.”

“Stay in the closet forever. Got it.” “What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.”

“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.

Murdock blew out a breath. “I don’t envy you—which is not something I ever thought I’d say—but I certainly respect the hell out of you, Hunter. I’ve got your back if anyone comes for you.” “Thank you, Coach.” They shook hands, and Murdock said, “It’s not Rozanov, is it?” “Jesus. No! Why does everyone—?” “Good. I don’t need that kind of circus.”

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.

And Scott didn’t have much experience at clubs, but the way Rozanov moved against the men he danced with seemed a lot more deliberate and practiced than someone who was just trying to get into the spirit of the place. Huh. It was maybe unimpressive in size, this little resistance group of hockey players who had chosen to join Scott tonight, but it felt like a revolution. A year ago—hell, a month ago—Scott would never have imagined this scenario. Out at a gay club with his best friends—his teammates—and his boyfriend and, uh, Ilya Rozanov. Dancing. Laughing. Celebrating his sexuality instead of hiding it. It was surreal and wonderful.