Page 21 of Game On

And his team’s social media coordinator.

It was the trifecta of bad situations.

Even knowing that, Jamie didn’t break eye contact. There was something about Dorian that made Jamie want to... play. Flirt a little.

Nothing wrong with harmless flirting, right?

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the fan whirring on Dorian’s laptop and the muted conversation of a couple of people passing by the meeting room. The back of Jamie’s neck tingled, awareness heightening his senses.

Dorian’s mouth lifted in a smirk and, casual as fuck, in a voice that reminded Jamie of smooth chocolate, he said, “Truths, Jamie.”

“You’re too sexy for that shirt. Literally.”

Smirk widening, Dorian’s eyes dropped to Jamie’s chest. “I could say the same about yours.”

“I did win most likely to bust out of his shirt my rookie season with the Cobras.”

“Now there’s a fun truth,” Dorian said, keys clacking as he typed. “What else you got?”

So Jamie got back to work.

* * *

Jamie and Dorian had only been home for twenty minutes when Jamie received a text from Toussaint.

Toussaint

Team dinner at Bayside in the West End. 7pm. Archie’s not far from you. He’ll pick you up on his way.

Thinking this was some kind of hazing ritual where he’d be left with the cheque at the end of the night, Jamie messaged Blair Brawsiski, who seemed like a level-headed guy who would give it to him straight.

Jamie

Toussaint texted me about a team dinner. Is this a hazing thing? I need to know if I need to rob a bank before dinner.

Brawsiski

LOL Coach Shore would murder us if he heard of any hazing, and trust me... he knows everything. You’re safe.

Once Jamie had changed out of his post-practice sweats and into jeans and a sweater, he went downstairs and found his housemate in the kitchen, elbows propped on the island as he scrolled through his phone. Dorian had changed as well, into a pair of crocodile-print short shorts that hugged his ass and thighs and a pink T-shirt with #youcanttouchthis on the front.

Jesus. Was he trying to drive Jamie crazy?

Clearing his throat, Jamie stood on the other side of the island, where Dorian’s butt wouldn’t distract him. “You’re friends with the Orcas, right?” It only made sense, given Dorian was their social media person.

But Dorian raised one eyebrow. “Friends? No. Not sure I’d even go as far as acquaintances. Colleagues is a better word, and even that’s not wholly accurate. The only one I’d call myself pseudo-friends with is Blair.”

“Why?”

“He’s dating my cousin.”

Jamie gaped at him. “Brawsiski’s dating Coach Shore?” A player and a coach? There had to be all sorts of rules against that. Did the rest of the team know? Management?

Dorian seemed to choke on his own spit. “No, not Matt. My cousin Charlie. I do have more than one cousin, you know. Or... I guess you don’t know. Sorry. But to answer your question, no. Aside from Blair, I wouldn’t consider the players friends. I recently got transferred to the Orcas to temporarily backfill a role. Usually I work with the NHL team. I hardly know the Orcas.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

---