Page 15 of Game On

“You too.”

“This is you here.” Brawsiski gestured at the locker to his left. “Figured I’d save you one. Easier than navigating your way around in a new environment.”

“Appreciate it.”

As Coach Shore had said, all of his gear was here. Practice uniform, pads, skates. Everything was impersonal, as practice facilities tended to be, though Jamie suspected his name was already up on a cubby in the locker room at the team’s arena on the Pacific National Exhibition’s grounds.

“This is Lin,” Brawsiski said, jerking a thumb at a red-headed guy on his other side. “My defensive partner.”

They exchanged handshakes while Jamie again brought up the player roster in his head. Tadhg Linstrom, though how a name spelled T-A-D-H-G was pronounced was anyone’s guess. No wonder he went by Lin.

“Tell me, really.” Like Walters, Lin leaned closer. “Is your name actually Jamie Jamieson? I can keep a secret.”

“Trade you that bag of All Dressed chips in your bag for the truth.”

Lin appeared to genuinely consider that before shaking his head. “I’d rather keep my after-practice snack, thank you very much.” He saluted him with his hockey stick. “See you out there.” And he departed, following behind a few other guys.

“You sure like to bargain,” Brawsiski pointed out as Jamie hustled into his gear. That five-minute warning Shore had given was ticking down in his head. There couldn’t be more than a minute left on the clock.

“I’m the youngest of eight kids,” Jamie said. “Everything could be bargained for in my house.”

“Eight?” Brawsiski’s eyes went wide. “Jesus.” He waited patiently until Jamie finished dressing, then handed him his stick. “Come on, JJ. Let’s see what you can do.”

* * *

Dorian pushed the button to buzz up to Charlie’s apartment. Waited ten seconds. Pushed it again. And again. And again. Kept it depressed, knowing it’d make an annoying and endless bzzzzzzzz in Charlie’s apartment.

If Charlie was home, he’d buzz Dorian inside in the next few seconds, just to make the noise stop.

Sure enough, there came the click of the locks disengaging.

Persistence for the win.

He stepped off the elevator a minute later and let himself into his cousin’s apartment without knocking.

“Don’t scowl at me,” he said without looking in Charlie’s direction.

“Will you just call first?” came Charlie’s voice from the kitchen, heavy with exasperation. “Or text that you’re on your way? You know how I feel about unexpected visitors.”

Dorian left his boots by the door. “But you love me, unexpected or not.”

“In small doses.”

Dorian chose to ignore that. They were each other’s favourite people and he refused to believe otherwise, even now that Charlie was cutely coupled up with his hockey player.

Dorian followed his nose to the kitchen. It smelled sweet. But then, it often smelled sweet at Charlie’s. He was a baker, after all.

On the counter were all sorts of ingredients—flour, baking powder, salt, brown sugar, vanilla—as well as measuring cups, ramekins, and... dates?

In the pot on the stove was a sauce that looked and smelled like caramel. Or... maybe it was butterscotch?

Then there was Charlie himself, short and cute and blond, and though he was indeed scowling in Dorian’s direction, it quickly morphed into a smile.

“What are you making?” Dorian asked.

“Sticky toffee pudding.” Charlie handed him a whisk and a measuring cup filled with cream. “Make yourself useful, will you? Whisk the cream into the sauce.”

“What are you going to do?”

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