Role Model (Game Changers, #5)

by Rachel Reid

“Didn’t you tell me last season that you thought he was the hottest player in the league?” Harris had definitely said that. “I don’t remember.” “We were playing Marry, Fuck, Kill and you said ‘fuck Troy Barrett’ three times.” Oh. Right. “I may have had a few beers in me.” “Mm.”

“Just easy questions, right? Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? That kind of thing?” Harris’s eyes went wide in mock horror. “No way. You don’t want the crunchy peanut butter fandom coming for you online. Best to avoid controversial subjects like that one.” “Maybe I like crunchy.” “The smooth fans are even worse.”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth, I guess.” “Nothing wrong with that. What about something savory, like poutine?” “Always seemed kinda gross.” Harris blew out a breath. “I’ll edit that answer out so the Ottawa fans don’t know your shocking views of poutine.” “Cheese and gravy don’t go together.” “The fuck they don’t!”

Troy hesitated a moment. He wasn’t in a hurry to go back to his lonely hotel room, and he found he didn’t mind being around this weird little apple farmer. He didn’t mind looking at him either, which wasn’t good. He left.

“You should have a boyfriend.” Now it was Troy’s turn to blush, which was so cute Harris couldn’t stand it. “I mean. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t. Um.” He chewed his lip nervously, and Harris was going to die. “You’re, like, nice. And not, y’know, ugly.” Harris laughed. “Jesus. Thanks.”

“I barely even know what a slow cooker is.” “Oh man, they’re great. They cook stuff slowly.” Troy was really glad he’d agreed to come. He felt better already, listening to Harris say stupid, adorable things. “Why is that good? Don’t you want things to cook faster?” “So you can come home to a meal that’s been cooking all day! It’s like a little husband.” That actually made Troy laugh. “That’s bleak.” “Said like someone who’s never known the love of a slow cooker.” “I don’t want to hear how you thank the slow cooker for dinner.”

“Tell your dad I said hi,” Dallas said as Troy skated past him. “That sounds like you want to fuck my dad,” Troy shot back. Dallas looked horrified. “Blow me, fuckhead.” “That sounds like you want to fuck me.”

“Where are we going?” “The bar that Scott Hunter and Eric Bennett own. Is nice, sort of.” Okay. Wait. Troy knew that Hunter and Bennett bought a bar together, but... “Isn’t it a gay bar?” Ilya frowned at him. “Is that a problem?” “No! No, I didn’t mean—I’m just—” Troy shook his head. He wasn’t against gay bars, obviously. He’d just never been to one. And now he was going to go to his first gay bar with Ilya Rozanov, apparently.

Troy took a few deep, settling breaths after he washed his hands. Nothing is weird. You’re at a normal bar with three NHL stars because you are an NHL star. At least two of them are queer, but guess what? So are you, buddy, so pull yourself together.

“Sorry. I’m just a little, um, out of my element here.” Kyle’s eyebrows shot up. “First gay bar?” “Uh, yeah. Actually.” “Don’t worry. As long as you leave by midnight. That’s when the floor opens up to reveal the sex pit.” Troy’s laugh was a little less nervous this time. He liked this Kyle guy. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Why did you punch Dallas Kent?” Ilya laughed. “Many reasons.” “I know, but why exactly did you punch him? Because I thought it was because he insulted you by saying that you were, like, gay. Or whatever. But then you took me to a gay bar, so I’m pretty confused right now.” “I did not punch Kent because of that. I am not so fragile.” “Oh. I just thought, because most hockey players would rather be accused of murder than be accused of liking dick—” “I am not most hockey players.” There was an edge to Ilya’s tone. “And I have not ever said I was straight.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Troy hadn’t even realized he was asking the question before the words were out, hanging between them with their clouds of breath on a Manhattan sidewalk. Ilya’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Yes. Very well.”

“I like him.” “I know. We all like Harris. But you want to kiss him.” Troy didn’t bother denying it. “I won’t. He deserves better, and there’s probably a work conflict thing that makes it wrong.” “Yes. Maybe the social media guy will give you a Twitter advantage if you blow him.” Troy let out an uncharacteristic yelp of shocked laughter. “Oh my god.” “You will get all the good GIFs.”

“So, you’re not straight?” Troy asked carefully. “I am bisexual. It is not anyone’s business, but, yes.” “I heard the rumor that Shane Hollander is gay. I don’t know if it’s true, but...that’s what I heard.” “Did you.” Something clicked in Troy’s head. “You guys are close, huh?” Ilya started walking faster. “That is enough sharing for tonight, Barrett.”

He’d really thought he was going to die. That they were all going to die. That Harris was going to die. And during those horrible minutes when he’d been grappling with his impending death, he’d kept thinking one thing, over and over: I want to kiss him.

“I think,” Ilya said, “that what you think in that moment...it is correct, yes?” Harris caught Troy looking at him. Their eyes met in the mirror for a second, then Troy looked away. “Maybe.” “I think so.” Ilya downed the rest of his whiskey, then clapped Troy on the shoulder. “What you wanted on that plane. Go for it.”

“I don’t think being gay makes flying scarier.” “No, I mean, like, that’s fucking brave too. Two things Dallas thinks are weak, being afraid and being gay, but they aren’t. I wish I’d...” He sighed. “I wish I’d done everything differently. I should have supported Ryan and told Dallas to go fuck himself.”

“You are so fucking hot,” Harris said. “Thought I was gonna die on that beach. And not from the waves.” “From the mile-long killer jellyfish?” Harris laughed. “No. From how much I wanted you to push me down on the sand and straddle me.”

“Jesus,” Troy huffed. “You look annihilated.” “There’s nothing left of me.” Harris spread his arms out on the mattress. “They’ll need to hire a new social media manager.” “Gonna be awkward explaining why.”

Troy pointed to the corner of Harris’s kitchen counter. “Is that the slow cooker you told me not to worry about?” Harris laughed. “I swear there’s nothing going on between me and the slow cooker.”

“I honestly don’t know how I would have dealt with anything this season without you.” Oh. Harris managed a shaky smile. “Happy to help.” “I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.” His eyes went wide. “I mean—thanks.” He jogged away before Harris could reply. “Oh man,” Harris muttered to his patched-up heart. “I think this guy might destroy us.”

“He’s taking me to a concert. Fabian Salah.” “Fabian! I did not know he was in town.” “You know him?” Ilya stared at Troy like he was an idiot. “Yes. He is Ryan Price’s boyfriend. Ryan Price who coaches at my camps.” “Right. I forgot.” “I saw Fabian play once,” Ilya said. “In Montreal. He is very good. Very...pretty.” “Oh yeah?” Ilya grinned. “Fabian and Ryan is like Beauty and the Beast. Wait until you see.”

“Oh my god. I have dreamed of coming to this place.” Troy pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at Harris’s excitement as he took in the stunning interior of the main lodge. “I was only able to book it on short notice because someone canceled, so I had to book the same package they had.” “Unless it was the You Have to go Home Immediately package, I don’t care.” “It’s the Lovebird Getaway. So it might be a bit...much.” Harris’s eyes went even wider. “Is this our honeymoon?” Troy elbowed him. “Calm down.”

Harris just lay there like a puddle of mush, perfectly relaxed and blissful after a day at the spa with the man he— The man he definitely had some significant feelings for.

“You don’t bring people home very often?” “I invite friends for dinner sometimes, but not men I’m dating. Or, y’know. Whatever.” They were both quiet a moment, and then Troy said, bravely, “Are we dating?” Harris glanced up at him. “Kinda feels like it maybe.” Troy smiled. “It does.”

“I want to come out,” Troy said. “Like, all the way out. Maybe on Instagram or something.” Harris glanced away from the road for a moment. “Yeah?” “When’s our Pride Night game?” “The end of February, but—” “I want to come out before then. Maybe the same day.” Troy was excited now. “Every Pride game I’ve ever played in has felt so weird. Like I was hiding in plain sight or something. I hated it. But this time I can just...be proud. Actually be proud.”

“I really like you as a person,” Harris said in between the kisses he was peppering Troy’s belly with. “I like everything about you, including the weird way you smile and the way you pretend not to like sweets.” Troy huffed. “Okay.” “I just want to make that clear, so you don’t get any wrong ideas here. Because, holy hell, Troy. Your body is ridiculous.” “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m going to miss you.” “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be here when you get back.” “I’ll probably text you a lot,” Troy warned. “You’d better.” Harris kissed his nose. “I take a mean dick pic.” Troy cracked up, which made Harris crack up. “What does that even mean?” Troy gasped. “You’ll see.”

“This is completely unfair,” he murmured. “What?” “This!” Harris waved a hand over Troy’s body. “Tell me you have a spare jock at home.” Troy smiled wickedly. “Why? You got a fetish for hockey gear?” “Uh, yeah.” Harris said it like it was obvious.

“That was weird. I loved it.” “It was okay?” “I said I loved it.” “We still have to, like, officially disclose the relationship,” Troy said. “I know. It’s just a formality. No one will care.” “Okay. Can I kiss you?” “Everyone is probably watching.” “Then I’d better make it a good one.”

He’d let so much bullshit, so many toxic people, guide him in the past. He’d made so many terrible decisions, and valued all the wrong things. But somehow it had all led to this moment, sitting on the floor of a drab office while his wonderful boyfriend handed him tissues. “I love you,” Troy said. It was terrible timing; he had red eyes, a snotty nose, a hoarse voice, and they were both at work, but he couldn’t help it. He loved Harris, and he needed him to know.

“Kiss him for luck, Barrett.” Harris smiled at him. “It might work.” So Troy kissed his boyfriend, a little awkwardly because he was wearing full hockey gear and his skates made him a couple of inches taller than usual. Harris didn’t seem to mind. He went up on his toes and kissed Troy like he was made of cookie dough ice cream. “Wow,” Troy said when they broke apart. “You really went for it.” “Hockey gear. You know what it does to me.” “I can’t believe they let you work here, pervert.” Harris kissed his cheek. “I’m proud of you. Now get out there and win.”

“Today really was like a Disney movie,” Troy said as he watched them walk away. Harris took his hand. “It was amazing. And I have a great idea for an ending.” “That sounds like a different kind of movie.” “There isn’t a Disney movie where the prince’s boyfriend rims him until he begs to be fucked?” Troy huffed. “I don’t know. I don’t watch Disney movies.”