Page 130 of Role Model

“Okay. Well, maybe you could post it just before—”

There was a knock on the door, and both men turned to face it. One of the security guards, Remy, was poking his head in. “Hey, guys. I was told Troy was in here, and I’ve got a guy named Curtis who says he’s your father. Said you weren’t expecting him.”

Harris looked at Troy, whose face had gone ashen.

“Oh,” Troy said. “He’s...here?”

“Yeah. You want to see him, or...”

For a moment, Troy didn’t say anything. Then he blinked and said, “Okay.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harris said.

“No.” Troy’s voice was sharp, with a hint of panic. “Don’t.”

Harris wanted to argue, but Troy’s expression told him he shouldn’t. “All right. I’ll wait here for you.”

Troy nodded, eyes wide and terrified, and left.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

Curtis narrowed his eyes at him, and Troy glanced down at his own T-shirt. It had the official Ottawa Centaurs Pride logo on it. Every member of the team was wearing the same shirt today, but Troy still felt like he’d been outed.

“Why do you think I’m here? I thought it would be fun to see you play against Toronto.” He smiled, but it wasn’t kind.

“It’s a good rivalry,” Troy said quietly. God, he sounded as scared as he felt.

“Thought I’d see Kent play, but then all that bullshit happened. Poor kid.”

Anger flared up in Troy. What a fucking douchebag this guy was. “It’s not bullshit.”

“And,” Dad continued, ignoring him, “I didn’t know this was happening tonight.” He waved a hand at Troy’s T-shirt.

Troy swallowed hard. What could he say? A few minutes ago, he’d been ready to come out to the world. Possibly minutes away from posting that incredible video Harris—his boyfriend—had made. He’d been excited about tonight. Nervous, yes, but ready.

Now he felt like he’d been hurled back in time to the not-so-distant past where he would rather die than have anyone find out his sexuality. What if everyone looked at him the way his father was looking at his T-shirt right now?

“Troy?”

The voice came from behind him, and he turned to see Harris standing a few meters away. Troy had asked him not to follow, but he was grateful he’d disobeyed. He needed the reminder, right now, of what was important.

He liked who he was with his new teammates. He almost loved who he was with Harris. He couldn’t stand that Dad was here to tarnish all of that.

“Harris. This is, um. This is—”

Of course, Harris walked confidently up to Curtis and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Harris Drover, the social media manager for the Centaurs.”

Curtis seemed to have a hard time deciding what to snarl at hardest: Harris’s own Centaurs Pride T-shirt, the array of Pride-themed pins on his denim jacket, or at the outstretched hand. Troy knew there was no way Dad was going to shake it.

“Social media, huh?” Dad said. “So they let you hang out with the team?”

“Every day,” Harris said. His voice was cheerful, but Troy could hear the underlying irritation in it.

Curtis glanced at Troy. “In the locker room?”

A jolt of fury rocketed through Troy so forcefully that he almost lunged at his father. Instead, he curled his hands into fists at his sides and said, “I think you should leave.”

Curtis looked baffled. “Why?”

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