Page 20 of Game On

Dorian... didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He stared at Jamie, eyebrows coming together. “Is that a truth or a lie?” He asked it slowly, gently, as though walking on eggshells.

Forcing a smile, Jamie waved a hand. “Never mind. Don’t use that one.”

“Obviously,” Dorian muttered. Something in his posture softened. “Do you want to talk about?—”

“I met our Prime Minister at a train station in Paris when I vacationed there one summer,” Jamie tossed out, making up the lie on the spot. “I met the Spice Girls backstage at a concert once. I went parasailing with my brother in Cancun and my harness broke. I learned to surf in Tofino.” He paused for breath. “Those are all lies, by the way.”

Dorian stared at him for a beat before he went back to typing. “You were supposed to let me guess. Those are good lies, though. What about truths?”

Fuck. Why were truths so hard?

“I foster rescue dogs.”

Dorian side-eyed him.

“No pets,” Jamie said. “I remember. I won’t do that here until I get my own place. Let’s see, what else? I do virtual yoga with my mom every week.”

“And that’s... a truth?”

“Sure. Well, half-truth? We miss some weeks. Our schedules don’t always align.”

Dorian typed Virtual yoga with mom into the document.

“When I was seven,” Jamie said, “I auditioned for the role of Chip in the Kelowna Community Theatre’s production of Beauty and the Beast. I didn’t even get a role in the company.”

“Aw.” Dorian grinned as he typed. “I auditioned for a role in The Addams Family in my high school production. I got assigned as the prop master.”

Jamie held out a hand for a fist bump. “To childhood dreams. Felled by casting agents everywhere.”

“I was Student Council president the following year.”

“And I made it to the AHL. Fuck them casting agents.”

They shared another fist bump.

“Okay, come on,” Dorian prompted. “More truths. That dog one won’t work. I’m guessing that’s something else that’s on your socials.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Jamie dropped his head back onto his shoulders and stared at the ceiling. He removed his brand-new Orcas hat and ran both hands through his hair, still damp from his post-practice shower. He’d stuffed the Cobras hat into the back of his closet where he hoped some closet elf would steal it and secret it away to its realm, never to be seen again.

Frustrated with himself and his lack of ideas, he dropped his arms and...

Hold up. Was Dorian staring at his biceps?

He had big ones. He played hockey; he knew he had guns. And the Orcas T-shirt he’d been given in his duffle of swag was slightly too tight, pulling across his chest and biceps.

Dorian’s gaze lingered for another second before it trailed up to lock with Jamie’s.

He didn’t look away.

Neither did Jamie.

There was a hint of challenge in Dorian’s brown eyes, though Jamie didn’t know Dorian well enough to understand what it meant.

What he did understand? Dorian was attracted to him too. Normally, Jamie would be all over that. Mutual attraction for the win.

But Dorian was his coach’s cousin.

And his housemate.

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