Page 82 of Role Model

Ilya’s lips quirked into a teasing half smile. “I follow you. Did you not see?”

“I didn’t really check after I posted those.”

“You should. People like them. Especially after I shared them.”

Oh god. Didn’t Ilya have like hundreds of thousands of followers? Troy knew that the point of social media was to get your thoughts and photos seen by as many people as possible, but he still felt anxious. “So lots of people have seen them then?”

“Yes.” Ilya clapped him on the shoulder. “Like I said. Good job.”

Ilya left the bathroom, and Troy stared at the door, unsure if he was ready to go back out there. Unsure of who he even was anymore. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. It had been easy, being an asshole. It had been safe. Now he was suddenly standing up for shit, and putting himself out there online, and thinking about publicly coming out as gay, and maybe seeing if Harris wanted to kiss him again.

He had no one to hide behind anymore, and the mask was so full of cracks he may as well throw it out.

Troy left the bathroom and, though he knew it was a bad idea, made a beeline toward the bar. And Harris. And the hot man Harris was probably flirting with.

“Troy!” Harris called out happily as soon as he spotted him. “Amazing goal tonight. Holy shit.”

“Thanks.” Troy’s gaze was fixed on the smoke show Harris was practically holding hands with. How many amazing goals did you score tonight, buddy?

“This is Alain,” Harris said. “Alain, this is Troy Barrett.”

Alain stuck out his hand and Troy, after frowning at it for a second, shook it. Alain’s hand was warm and strong, and his dark eyes were so beautiful they were hard to look at directly.

“Hi, Alain,” Troy mumbled.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Alain said with a heavy Quebecois accent. “Gen was telling me about your Instagram.”

“Oh?”

“Alain is Gen’s boyfriend,” Harris supplied.

It was embarrassing how relieved Troy was by that. “That’s cool. Gen seems great.”

At that moment, Gen came up behind Alain. “Gen is great. Oh, hi, Troy. Nice goal tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“The gif I posted of it has a zillion likes already,” Harris said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. And so do your Instagram posts now that the team accounts’ve shared them.”

Troy felt a confusing mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. “You saw those, huh?”

“No thanks to you.” Harris punched his arm playfully. “You didn’t tell me you created an account! Or that you were going to use it to be a fucking hero.”

“As if.” Troy’s cheeks heated. “I had to, um, watch some tutorials, figuring out how to do some stuff, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“I love your posts, Troy,” Gen said. “That’s how you be an ally. Keep it up.”

An ally. Troy supposed that’s what he was, or what he was trying to be. Not a hero, certainly. “Thanks. I will.”

Gen turned to Alain and said something to him in rapid French. Then she said, to Harris and Troy, “We’re going to head out.”

Harris gave each of them a hug while Troy stood awkwardly to the side.

“So,” Harris said, after they left, “you want a drink?”

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