Page 133 of Role Model

Harris stopped filming. “Can’t help it. Wait’ll you see the replies to your—”

“Nope. Shut it. Later, okay?”

“Okay.” He pressed his lips together, as if that was the only way he could stop himself.

Bood nudged Troy playfully in the back as he walked by, causing Troy to stumble into Harris. “Kiss him for luck, Barrett.”

Harris smiled at him. “It might work.”

So Troy kissed his boyfriend, a little awkwardly because he was wearing full hockey gear and his skates made him a couple of inches taller than usual. Harris didn’t seem to mind. He went up on his toes and kissed Troy like he was made of cookie dough ice cream.

“Wow,” Troy said when they broke apart. “You really went for it.”

“Hockey gear. You know what it does to me.”

“I can’t believe they let you work here, pervert.”

Harris kissed his cheek. “I’m proud of you. Now get out there and win.”

“It’s just warm-ups.”

“Then stretch better than anyone has ever stretched before.”

Troy laughed, and turned to face the entrance to the ice. Then, after a deep breath, he stepped on the ice for the first time as an openly gay man.

He kept his head down for the first lap around the Centaurs’ end of the ice. He could admit to himself that he was scared to look up.

Ilya fell into stride beside him. “Is nice, right?”

Troy finally raised his head, and then slowed to a stop.

The first thing he saw was a giant hand-painted banner hanging from the second level of seating. It said We love you, Troy in rainbow letters with big hearts on either end. As he turned to look all around him, he saw rainbow flags and fan-made signs with his name on them everywhere.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

Ilya draped an arm over his shoulders. “Not bad. Must be how it feels to be Scott Hunter.”

A weird sputter of laughter burst out of Troy. Dammit, now his eyes were damp. “This is for you, too, you know. Even if they don’t know it.”

“Yes. And maybe they will know, soon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I hope so.” Ilya removed his arm. “We are all using the rainbow tape sticks tonight. For the game, not just warm-up. To show support.” Then he grinned and skated away.

Troy had to put his head back down to hide the raw emotion on his face.

Harris was impressed with himself for not falling apart completely during the presentation before the game. The team had invited two local LGBTQ activists to drop the puck for the ceremonial face-off, and instead of Ilya meeting the Toronto team captain to do it, Troy was chosen to represent the Centaurs.

When Troy’s name was announced, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Harris could see, on the big screens, that he was struggling to keep his emotions under control. He waved at the crowd a few times, lips pressed tight together. He nodded stoically and seemed a little embarrassed, but the ovation just kept going. Eventually, Troy had to cover his face with one of his big hockey-gloved hands.

Harris fell apart a tiny bit.

The Toronto captain seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing, but who cared about that guy? This wasn’t about him. After the puck drop, the two activists each shook the Toronto captain’s hand, and then gave Troy a hug. With a final wave at the crowd, Troy skated back to stand on the blue line. Harris noticed Ilya nudging him when he got back. He also noticed that Ilya’s eyes didn’t look entirely dry.

This was a huge night. Not just for Troy, but for hockey. For Harris. He’d grown up loving hockey, and knowing it would have been a rough place for him if he’d played. There would be queer kids watching tonight that this presentation would give hope to.

It was also a very busy night for Harris, but he’d never enjoyed his job so much. He would do the best job he could documenting the game, and hopefully Troy would want to look at it all someday.

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