Page 38 of Role Model

After about half an hour of pretending to work, Harris pushed back from his desk and stretched. “I’m going to take Chiron for a little walk before Hannah comes to pick him up.”

Chiron had almost fallen asleep in Troy’s lap, but he perked up at the word walk. Harris grabbed his coat and Chiron’s leash off a hook by the door, then turned to Troy. “You can come if you want.”

Troy’s face lit up as much as, Harris suspected, Troy’s face ever lit up. “I’ll get my coat.”

The walking options near the arena weren’t great, but the parking lot was huge and empty, so they strolled the perimeter of it. Troy held Chiron’s leash and patiently let the puppy sniff every rock, puddle, and crumpled Tim Hortons cup they passed.

“I’ve never walked a dog before,” he said.

Harris stopped dead. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Never had one, never looked after anyone else’s.”

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s all right.” The way Troy was looking at Chiron—not smiling, of course, but with definite amusement in his eyes—told Harris that he was enjoying the experience more than he was letting on.

It was a reasonably nice day for Ottawa in early December. Cold, but sunny and calm after a drizzly, windy night. Harris spent way too much of his life indoors these days. Mostly in front of a computer, or looking at his phone. “Has anyone ever said anything to you? About being gay?” Troy asked out of nowhere.

Harris had no idea why he was asking, or even what he was asking, but he said, “You mean given me shit about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. But no one I care about. Why?”

Troy didn’t reply, seemingly as interested in a soggy McDonald’s straw wrapper as Chiron was. Then he said, to the straw wrapper, “Anyone on the team? Or in the organization?”

“No one,” Harris said. “Like I said, this is a good group. I’ve never hidden being gay, and no one here has ever made me feel like I needed to.”

“That’s good.”

They walked to the end of one side of the parking lot, then turned the corner and started on the next. “I’m guessing things were different in Toronto?” Harris asked.

Troy’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “A lot of slurs and stuff. I can’t pretend I wasn’t contributing to it.”

Harris was disappointed to hear it, but he wasn’t surprised. “You gonna keep contributing to it?”

“No.” Troy stopped walking. Chiron seemed confused, and walked back to bump his nose against Troy’s sneaker. “I was a complete fucking asshole in Toronto. I know it. Everyone here seems so, like, good... I shouldn’t be here.”

Harris was tempted to put a hand on his arm, so he shoved his hands in his coat pockets instead. “Do you hate it here?”

“Not as much as I thought I would.”

Harris chuckled at that. “Glad to hear it.” He started walking again, and Troy joined him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“You don’t think I’m an asshole?”

Harris bit the inside of his cheek, then said, “Not as much as I thought I would.”

Troy made a huffing sound—not quite a laugh—and Harris nudged him playfully. Troy didn’t return it, but his mouth was fighting a smile.

Then Troy handed him the leash. “I should go. Gotta nap, y’know. Before the game.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure. I’ll see you—”

But Troy was already jogging away, toward the hotel. And Harris was left to stare after him, wondering what exactly Troy’s deal was.

Chapter Nine

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