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This sport, as much as Harris loved it, had a horrible track record when it came to punishing players for, well, anything, really.
“I wish he’d turn the camera around sometimes. The fans would probably rather see their hero than a weird fire hydrant, right?”
Fire hydrant?
NHL player for the Ottawa Centaurs. I believe victims of sexual assault.
It had been easy, being an asshole. It had been safe.
Hockey and deep throating, his top two skills.
“I like you a lot, Harris, but I need some time to figure my shit out. Maybe until then we should just, y’know, be friends.”
I mean ouch, but also basically the right move?
He’d booked a romantic getaway for himself and his boyfriend, and it was fine. He’d used his real name and everything.
I mean big step, but are they officially boyfriends?
“I don’t regret trying. It’s hard to change anything in this league, though. Anyone who tries tends to get squashed.”
Troy smiled wickedly. “Why? You got a fetish for hockey gear?”
I can't stop thinking about the smell if I'm honest.
“Is there video footage of Dallas being arrested?” Troy asked, because he wasn’t entirely a nice guy. Not yet.
“Sometimes it’s hard to stop caring about someone, no matter how much you know you should.”
He went up on his toes and kissed Troy like he was made of cookie dough ice cream.
I don't like this simile - what does it even mean?
