Page 51 of Role Model

Troy shook his hand. “Troy.”

“Oh shit! You’re Troy Barrett, right? You’re my new hero.”

“Same,” Scott said, which made Troy’s eyes go wide. Scott Hunter—his idol—was looking at him with so much approval and warmth that Troy couldn’t stand it.

“I’m not a hero,” Troy mumbled, ducking his head to hide his darkening cheeks. Especially not compared to Hunter, who had bravely kissed his boyfriend on live television after winning the Stanley Cup a few seasons ago, and had been an activist ever since. All Troy had done was get mad at someone who deserved it. It’s not like he accomplished anything by it.

The last time Troy had spoken to Hunter was during the All-Star weekend in January. He’d been so nervous, when he’d approached Scott at the hotel bar, because he knew that Scott hated Dallas Kent, and probably hated Troy by association. Scott had seemed wary at first when Troy had awkwardly introduced himself, but had quickly relaxed when Troy had congratulated him on his engagement, and, in the clumsiest way possible, attempted to articulate how inspiring it was for Scott to have come out as gay. Without, y’know, actually saying that.

He wondered if Scott had understood what Troy had been really trying to say. The way he was looking at him now—considering, knowing—suggested that he probably had.

Kip waved goodbye to the table full of hockey players, then kissed Scott. Troy held his breath, waiting for disgusted reactions, but of course no one was bothered or even interested. There was a whole world of people that had no problem with men kissing each other or falling in love. Troy had just been hanging out in the wrong circles.

Then Kyle, the bartender, kissed Eric Bennett full on the mouth. They smiled at each other when they broke apart, eyes full of adoration, and Troy was floored. He glanced around the table to see how everyone else was reacting, but again, no one seemed to care.

Wasn’t Eric straight, though? He’d been married to a woman for years, until recently. Maybe he was bisexual? Whatever he was, he definitely seemed to be fucking a very hot—and much younger—man. So, go Eric.

Eric sat, and Ilya said, “Enjoying retirement?” with a knowing little smirk.

“I really am,” Eric said, then took a sip of the cocktail Kyle had left on the table for him. He turned to Troy. “Good to see you again, Troy. How’s Ottawa treating you?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“I was impressed that you stood up to Kent. Scott was too.”

“Damn right,” Scott confirmed. “That took guts.”

Troy shifted in his chair. “It’s not like it did anything.”

“Change needs to start somewhere,” Scott said with authority. “I know nothing’s happened to Kent, so you probably feel like your words meant nothing, but I’ll bet they meant a lot to his victims.”

Troy’s cheeks heated. “I doubt it.”

“It’s one thing to stand up for yourself,” Eric said calmly. “But standing up for others, for people who aren’t even there and you’ve got nothing to gain from it? That’s shows courage, and it shows you’re a good person.”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone, even Ilya. Troy hadn’t been prepared for this level of attention at all, and he didn’t like it.

“I’m gonna hit the men’s room.” He stood quickly and darted away before anyone could see the uneasiness on his face.

And then Troy was in the men’s room at a gay bar. A place that had been the punch line of countless awful locker room jokes.

If only Dad or Dallas Kent could see him now.

The bathroom honestly seemed pretty normal. There was only one other guy in there and he took care of business quickly and left without even looking at Troy. There didn’t seem to be any orgies happening in the stalls, or whatever his former teammates had imagined went on in these places.

Troy took a few deep, settling breaths after he washed his hands. Nothing is weird. You’re at a normal bar with three NHL stars because you are an NHL star. At least two of them are queer, but guess what? So are you, buddy, so pull yourself together.

He felt, he realized, the same way he did when he was around Harris. Overwhelmed and disoriented because he’d found a small space where his two worlds existed together peacefully. He was a hockey player, and he was a gay man, but he’d never tried to be both at the same time.

Scott and Eric both seemed so happy. Completely relaxed and comfortable in their own skin. Would Troy ever be like that? Would Troy ever overcome the effects of being burdened by years of, first, denial, then self-loathing, shame, fear, jealousy, and longing? He wanted to be comfortable here. To be comfortable everywhere. To be himself and not give a shit who had a problem with it.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that he could come out. Right now. To the group he was with. He barely knew any of them, but they would all accept him and support him.

Troy’s heart pounded as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Holy fuck. He could come out.

Someone entered the bathroom and shot Troy a curious look before heading to one of the urinals. Great. Now Troy was the one being weird in a gay bar men’s room.

He left, mind racing with possibilities. He could do this. He could just...do it.

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