Page 55 of Role Model

Troy wanted to die. Who else had noticed? “I was just—oh god. Does everyone know? Is it obvious?”

“No. Not everyone is as, um, notices things?” Ilya furrowed his brow, and Troy helped him out.

“Perceptive?”

“Yes. I am the most perceptive.”

Troy hunched his shoulders against the cold and against everything he was feeling. “I like him.”

“I know. We all like Harris. But you want to kiss him.”

Troy didn’t bother denying it. “I won’t. He deserves better, and there’s probably a work conflict thing that makes it wrong.”

“Yes. Maybe the social media guy will give you a Twitter advantage if you blow him.”

Troy let out an uncharacteristic yelp of shocked laughter. “Oh my god.”

“You will get all the good GIFs.”

“Okay. Enough.”

Ilya turned so he was directly in front of Troy, walking backward with that irritating grin on his face. “He likes you too, I think.”

“Come on.”

“He does not think he has a chance with you.”

“Are you psychic or something?”

“No. Just per—fuck. I forget the word already.”

“Perceptive.”

“Perceptive,” Ilya repeated. Then said it three more times, drilling it into his brain. “Good word.” He returned to walking beside Troy instead of in front of him.

Jesus, Troy had just come out to his team captain. And his team captain had...sort of come out to him?

“So, you’re not straight?” Troy asked carefully.

“I am bisexual. It is not anyone’s business, but, yes.”

“I heard the rumor that Shane Hollander is gay. I don’t know if it’s true, but...that’s what I heard.”

“Did you.”

Something clicked in Troy’s head. “You guys are close, huh?”

Ilya started walking faster. “That is enough sharing for tonight, Barrett.”

Chapter Twelve

Ilya Rozanov was wearing a Santa hat and a snowman sweater, and was holding a puppy. Harris loved his job.

“Stand closer to the tree,” Gen instructed.

Ilya took a step toward the giant, illuminated Christmas tree in the corner of the meeting room. He was unfairly handsome for someone dressed so ridiculously. Chiron had a festive bandanna tied around his neck and looked adorable as he nuzzled Ilya’s face. Harris hadn’t needed to twist Ilya’s arm at all to agree to this photo shoot.

“Ah!” Ilya yelped. “He’s got my pom-pom!”

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