Fuck.
I have to stop, or I’ll get hard again, and you can see everything in these damn workout shorts.
We all saw the little jersey-swapping game Rachel and Sanny played last night, first during the actual game, then again at the press conference. Jake was practically squirming in his chair over it. The big reveal was Sanford wearing Jake’s jersey like he was a goddamn WAG.
Now the gossip is everywhere. When I got out of the shower, that’s what Nov showed me on his phone. He’s still in a couple group chats with some of the guys on the Pens and the Bruins, and they were asking him to confirm whether Jake and Sanny are finally out as gay.
But they don’t know what Novy and I know. It’s possible no one else does. Jake and Sanny are sharing our team doctor. They’re together. The three of them. They’re in the same goddamn position as us…and now they’re getting dragged for it. That’s what pulled Poppy out of my bed at 5 a.m. She’s been over here dealing with the PR “crisis” that is three consenting adults choosing to be together.
It’s a fucking mind trip, like we’re getting to watch the world’s craziest game of “What if” happen before our eyes:
What if Lukas and I came out as dating Poppy?
What if we came out saying we want to live together, share our girl, and grow fucking old together?
Would the League accept us? Would our teammates? Would the fans?
We get inside the practice arena and head up to the gym floor looking for Jake or Sanny. We step into the gym and Novy sticks out his arm, stopping me in my tracks.
Mars Kinnunen is standing in the middle of the floorin a fucking rage, yelling at DJ Perry. “And what gives you the right to think you get to have an opinion?”
“Jeez, Mars. I only said—”
“What Compton and Sanford do outside this gym is no business of yours oranyother person on this team!”
Shit, looks like we’re too late.
Novy grabs my arms and pulls me into the gym, going over to where Langers is watching, eyes wide. “What the fuck happened?”
“Avery started chirping about Jake and Sanford being gay,” he explains, pointing over to where our head of PT stands, arms folded, smirking. I fucking hate him. “And that got Dave-O going, and then Perry joined in,” Langers goes on. “I guess some of the guys got pings to their group chats about it all. The Pens, the Kings…”
“Fuck.” Nov glances warily over to me.
Mars is still on a fucking tear. “—and I will not stand silently by as members ofmyteam are derided by the likes of a no-talent fourth line forward who doesn’t know his ass from his goddamn elbow!” We all lean away as he switches to Finnish. He strides forward, all six-foot-five of him. Towering over Perry, he pounds his fist into his hand as he continues to shout.
“DJ’s gonna piss himself,” Langers says, clearly in awe of the goalie.
“Come on.” Novy pulls on my arm, dragging me out of the gym.
“You don’t want to see how that ends?”
“Perry’s already crying. You wanna stick around? Come on, we gotta go find Compton. This is fucking bad.”
“Well, what do you want us to say?”
“I don’t know. What wouldyouwanna hear?” He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at me.
I shrug. “I don’t know, Nov. I’m not in the hot seat.”
“Yet.”
I nod. It’s only a matter of time, really…if we keep doing what we’re doing. I hold his gaze. “Are we fucking crazy here?”
It’s his turn to shrug. “Does it matter at this point?”
No. It really doesn’t.
We finally findSanford lurking in the laundry room. “Hey, Sanny,” Novy calls, stepping into the room first.