Page 67 of Game On

A what?

Charlie

Never mind. They eat at restaurants, go to the movies, go bowling, visit a museum, take bike rides together. Just...stuff. Activities. Things they like to do together.

He and Jamie hadn’t yet discovered what they liked to do together, but they were pretty good at talking, walking Poppy, and watching movies.

That was a start. Right? They could build from there.

Dorian was still fuzzy on the details, however, and he didn’t love that. Jamie had admitted that something had changed. He’d admitted that while all the reasons why he hadn’t wanted to act on his attraction were still there, they didn’t hold as much power as they once had.

But where did that leave them? If the Orcas players turned out to be not who Jamie expected and began giving him a hard time over their relationship, would Jamie break things off?

Not that Dorian expected that to happen. He wasn’t close enough to any of the players for them to care one way or another whether he and Jamie worked out or not. And Matt wouldn’t make a stink of it either—he wasn’t one to butt into anyone’s personal life.

What was important to keep in mind was that Jamie thought it was a possibility, and that wasn’t something Dorian could ignore.

Still, that wasn’t going to stop him from taking Jamie home and putting all that post-game energy to good use.

Something happened down on the ice that had the goal horn buzzing and the Orcas fans groaning. San Jose had scored, then.

Cool. No overtime.

There was a part of Dorian that felt like he should care more that the Orcas were losing with only a few minutes left in the game, but he was all out of fucks.

He wanted to fuck.

How was that for wordplay? He was mentally patting himself on the back when the Orcas retaliated with a slick goal that slid right in between the goalie’s legs.

Dorian groaned. Everyone else cheered.

He could’ve gone home. Archie would’ve dropped Jamie off after the game. But something kept him rooted to his seat, and that something was named Jamie Jamieson.

Hey. Now that he was thinking about it, he still didn’t know if that was his real name.

An interminable amount of time later—or whatever the equivalent of an intermission and an overtime was—the Orcas proved victorious. Not a surprise. They’d made the playoffs for a reason.

Once the game ended, he waited for the mass exodus, then made his way to the player entrance to wait for Jamie. There was a different waiting area for wives and girlfriends, but since Dorian had credentials, he could head past it to the restricted areas.

Plus, he wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with strangers, so there was that.

He put his social-media-coordinator hat on and answered fan questions while he waited, and soon enough, players began rounding the corner in pairs toward the exit, nodding at Dorian on their way past. Archie came solo, gaze on his phone, and did a double-take when he spotted Dorian.

“Hey,” he said. “Guess I don’t need to wait around for JJ?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Cool. He shouldn’t be too far behind me.”

Sure enough, there, dressed in a black suit paired with a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, was his defenceman. He was laughing at something Toussaint was saying, head back, throat bared, his teeth gleaming in the harsh overhead lights. His laughter was uninhibited, bouncing off the hallway walls and hitting Dorian right in the sternum.

Shit. He was in so much trouble.

Toussaint was the first to notice him. “Hey, Dorian.”

Jamie’s gaze snapped to his. “Hey, Dorian,” he echoed, sultry and thick.

Dorian suppressed a shiver.

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