Page 47 of The Poster Boy
Boone didn’t believe a word I was saying, but he let it slide. For now. He thumped my chest with his fist.
“Get your head out of your ass, Brooksie.” He skated away, but I knew the conversation wasn’t over. He had officially sniffed something out, and he wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. But he wasn’t going to keep digging here. He’d wait until we were back home, and then he’d pester me about it.
Thankfully we still had to hit the weight room after this. It gave me time to come up with a cover story. Boone checking on me seemed to be the magic trick because for the rest of practice, my focus was razor sharp.
In the weight room later, Boone took the treadmill next to mine and matched my speed.
“Level with me, Brooksie. What’s going on?” He glanced over at me.
“Just had an off day, man. Nothing to worry about. And anyway, I pulled my head out of my ass like you told me.”
Boone lowered his voice. “It’s that person you’re seeing, isn’t it?”
“I might have something like that on my mind.”
He wasn’t going to let it go, which annoyed me, but if I dodged him too hard, he’d dig deeper, and if he dug too deep, he’d sniff out my obsession with Marek in no time. Most of the team didn’t know I was gay, but that wasn’t the thing I cared about. I cared about them knowing my business. I didn’t want to be the next poster boy for queer players. I didn’t want the media attention that Myers had to put up with.
In my periphery, I saw Marek over at the weights. He was spotting Griffin and laughing. And if I hadn’t been such a grumpy asshole, I might have been able to join in. But the team thought I barely tolerated Myers, and the less they knew the better. I didn’t want our relationship to become a distraction for the team.
I’d grumped my way into a corner where Myers was concerned. I couldn’t be his friend out of the blue because I was a gruff bastard and the whole team knew it. But the spike of jealousy that stabbed at me when Myers put his hand on Griffin’s shoulder and squeezed got me right in the guts, and it was a miracle that I kept my feet under me and didn’t stumble and fall off the treadmill.
“Have you finished your shopping?” Boone asked. We had a short break over Christmas before another three-game road trip. As I’d done for the past few years, I’d be spending the holiday with Boone’s family.
“Already done.”
“Ugh, you’re such a showoff. I bet you got it gift-wrapped too.”
“It’s already been delivered to your mom’s house. You better hurry up before you end up on Santa’s naughty list.”
“If Boone’s on the naughty list, you’re at the top, Brookbank,” Andrew chirped as he mopped the sweat from his forehead with a towel.
“It’s not so bad being on top. You should try it sometime.” I hit the stop button on my treadmill and reached for my towel. “I’m going to hit the showers.”
Some of the guys had already finished their workouts and left, but I was never among the first ones out, and I was desperately trying to act natural. Deviating from my routine would tip people off that something was up. And if theylooked too hard, they’d see the way my gaze found Myers in every room.
I felt like our connection had put a flashing sign over my head announcing that Marek and I were fucking. Nothing was wrong, but acting like I wasn’t obsessed with Myers, like I didn’t care about what he had to say or who he said it to was harder than I thought it would be.
When he’d arrived, it had been easy to ignore him because I hadn’t wanted to be his friend. But that was different now. Now, I wanted him around, but it was impossible to say that to him. Or to change the way I’d treated him when he’d first been traded. Now our dynamic was set. On the ice, we were teammates. He was my goalie, and when he was in net, it was my job to help him do his job. And after the game, he was the poster boy, and I was the angry defenseman who avoided the cameras whenever possible.
There were occasions when I’d be asked to be on camera and give short interviews, but mostly those spots went to more interesting players. The team captain. The star forward. The goalie. The cameras were another reason I didn’t want my shit with Marek to become public knowledge. The media was a dog with a bone when it came to him. Even now that his affection for the press had cooled after the whole incident where they asked about his parents, Marek still gave interviews. The press had stopped asking about his love life; instead they’d gone digging and turned up the fact that his parents kicked him out and his sister worked her ass off to keep him in the game.
Not that I was paying attention or anything. I wasn’t that obsessed with him.
To prove how not obsessed I was, I went home after practice and took care of meal prep for Boone and me for the week without looking at my phone once. I totally didn’talmost burn the ground turkey, and I absolutely didn’t almost chop my thumb off when I was cutting vegetables.
Boone had gone out Christmas shopping. He was the kind of sick person who loved busy places. He didn’t mind the throng of holiday shoppers or the crowds. Lineups were all part of the fun, according to him. He’d stopped trying to get me to go with him years ago. Apparently there was a limit to the amount of grumpiness Boone was willing to deal with, and holiday shopping put me well beyond that limit.
I’d almost managed to get Marek off my mind when my phone buzzed with a text.
Marek
You were shit at practice today.
I’d be insulted if it weren’t true.
tsk tsk. Get your head in the game, Brookbank.
I liked it better when he called me Jay. I liked it even better when he was balls deep inside me when he did so.
