Page 43 of Role Model

“Oh.” Troy looked like he’d really like his coffee cup lid back. “Are they mostly for, um.”

“Sex?” Harris offered. “Sometimes. I like talking to people, though, as you’ve probably noticed. I like getting to know someone. So I’m usually hoping for more, but if it’s just a hookup, that’s cool too. Sometimes that’s all I need anyway.”

Troy looked like he had something lodged in his throat. Harris watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He had no idea why Troy was asking him all these questions about his gay dating life if it made him uncomfortable.

Well, there was one possibility, but Harris was trying not to think about it too much. If Troy was working out his own sexuality, Harris didn’t want to push him. He also didn’t want to get his own hopes up.

“What about you?” Harris asked carefully. “Do you date much?”

Troy stood. “I should let you work.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m almost—”

“I need to—”

Troy didn’t even finish his sentence. He just darted out the door, as he always did, leaving Harris to replay the conversation and wonder what exactly Troy wanted from him.

Troy opened his browser on his phone and typed fun things to do in Ottawa. The results were mostly museums, tours of Parliament and other historic buildings, and going to an Ottawa Centaurs game. Not great.

The team was heading out on the road tomorrow morning, starting with a game in Toronto.

Toronto.

It was early in the evening now, but Troy could already tell he was going to have trouble sleeping. He needed a distraction.

He tried Ottawa nightlife instead. There were clubs, live music venues, sports bars, and several other places Troy didn’t want to be. He didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe just a chill pub where he could sit alone and nurse a beer. Somewhere he could people watch without having to interact with any of them.

He chewed his lip, then typed Ottawa gay bar. He didn’t know why he did it; there was no way he was going to one. If he went to a gay bar alone in a city he would definitely be recognized in, he may as well start wearing Pride pins on his jacket like Harris did.

Harris was probably at one of those bars right now, surrounded by friends and laughing that earsplitting, bellowing laugh that Troy should hate way more than he did.

Maybe Harris was on a date. Using that app of his. Troy had never tried online dating, or a hookup app, or anything like that. It would probably be a good idea, if he ever got brave about his sexuality. He was going to have to figure something out, because he hadn’t had sex in months, and while he was used to droughts, at least with Adrian there had been regular FaceTime sex.

Troy put his phone on the nightstand, then paced the hotel room. He needed to get out of here. He knew he wasn’t going to get laid tonight, but he could do something to distract himself from his churning stomach.

He wasn’t ready to face his old team. Tomorrow he would travel to Toronto, walk into his old arena, and go to the visiting team dressing room. He would put on his Ottawa gear and skate out onto his former home ice in front of his former home crowd and compete against his former teammates. Against Dallas Kent.

Troy would be booed by the fans who used to love him. He expected that. He would be taunted and roughed up by men who had, until very recently, been his family. He would need to trust his new teammates to have his back, and he wasn’t sure he had earned that yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

He shouldn’t text Harris. He’d bothered that guy enough this week, and he was aware of how weird it was. Troy’s brain was a whirling mess and it only ever settled when he was sitting in Harris’s office, listening to him type. Soaking up his smiles and enjoying his implausible apple scent that Troy was definitely imagining.

What time was it in Singapore right now? That’s where his mom was. Yesterday she’d sent a photo of his figurine in front of that giant building with the park on top. He picked up his phone to Google the time difference and found a text message.

Harris: Are you nervous about tomorrow night?

Troy sat on the bed, staring at the message. On the one hand, it was kind of a stupid question; of course Troy was nervous. On the other, the fact that Harris had been thinking enough about him to send this text made his throat tighten.

He decided to be honest.

Troy: I’m a wreck right now.

Harris: Wanna drive around and look at Christmas lights?

“What the fuck?” Troy said into the empty room. He wasn’t seven years old. Why would he want to look at Christmas lights?

Except he liked the idea of being in Harris’s truck, listening to whatever music Harris was in the mood for and seeing what his eyes looked like with Christmas lights reflected in them.

Troy: Ok.

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