Page 47 of Role Model

“Still a stupid Christmas decoration,” he grumbled.

They drove to the end of Taffy Lane, which took a while since they were in a line of cars that was crawling along. Then Harris drove them around some other nearby streets, which also had some decent decorations but nothing on the level of Taffy Lane.

“I don’t like the light projections,” Troy declared when they were halfway down their fourth or fifth street. “It’s lazy.”

“I hear ya. But combined with other lights, they look pretty cool.”

“It’s too much. I like houses like that one.” Troy gestured to a small house with a pointy roof. Lights outlined the gables, windows, door, front porch, and the sides of the front of the house from ground to roof. There was a big wreath with a red bow hanging on the door. “That’s classic, right there. Like, that’s the kind of house I’d want to spend Christmas in.”

“That’s sort of how my parents decorate our house,” Harris said.

Troy could imagine the Drover family farmhouse, sitting perfect and pretty in the middle of a snow-covered apple orchard. That house was probably bursting at the seams with overly loud laughter and love during holidays. “Sounds nice.”

“You should come over on Christmas. The dinner is always amazing. My folks would be happy to have you.” Harris made the offer easily, as if it wasn’t one of the kindest invitations Troy had ever received. But there was no way someone as miserable as Troy should be tainting anyone’s Christmas festivities, much less a family’s as perfect as Harris’s probably was.

“I can’t. I’m moving into that apartment two days before Christmas and I’m going to just, y’know, get myself settled in there.”

“Offer stands if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” They were at a stop sign, and their gazes locked for a moment. Harris’s eyes reflected the twinkling lights all around them, and his smile was so warm and lovely that Troy felt a sudden and intense desire to kiss him.

Instead, he looked away. “I should probably get back. Long day tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Harris said. “Hope this helped a bit with your nerves.”

“It did.” Troy knew as soon as he was alone again, all of his anxieties about tomorrow would come rushing back, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to keep taking up Harris’s time. Also, he needed to get his urge to kiss him under control.

As they merged on to the highway, Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” started playing, which didn’t help. The situation was made worse when Harris started singing along.

Troy hadn’t even known Harris for a month. In fact, he barely knew him at all. Why was he so drawn to him? He was nothing like any of the men Troy had been secretly attracted to before. He was nothing like Adrian. He wasn’t even the kind of guy Troy would normally be friends with.

But as he watched the absolute goofball in the driver’s seat cheerfully dueting with Mariah Carey, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted him. For his own. More than Harris could ever, ever, ever know.

Chapter Eleven

Troy had never been in the visiting team’s dressing room in Toronto before, and he didn’t like it. Everything about being in this building—this city—again was unsettling. He sat in his stall, wearing his Ottawa Centaurs uniform, and tried not to let his face show the panic that was tearing him up inside.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go out there.

Maybe if he hadn’t been playing like shit since he’d been traded. Maybe if Dallas Kent hadn’t been on fire all season. Maybe if Troy wasn’t returning as a member of the Ottawa fucking Centaurs.

God, he felt sick.

“Walk with me.” Troy glanced up and saw Ilya standing over him.

He obeyed his captain, standing and following him into the hallway.

“You are nervous,” Ilya said as soon as they were alone.

“A little.”

“No. Not a little. What do you need?”

Troy shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not ready.”

“You are not facing them alone. We are with you. We have your back, Barrett.”

Troy managed to hold his gaze for a few seconds before looking away. In truth, he wasn’t confident that his new team did have his back. “Thanks.”

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