Page 95 of Role Model

“Okay,” Troy said, because it seemed safer than refusing. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Crowell interrupted. “I’d hate to have to take this matter further.”

Further? Jesus, Troy didn’t want to find out what that meant. “No, sir.”

“I’ll let you go now, Troy. It was nice speaking with you. Good luck tomorrow night against Montreal.”

“Thank you.” Troy sounded like a child being forced to speak to a stranger.

Crowell ended the call, and Troy slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. What the fuck was he going to do?

“You surprised yet?” Harris asked Gen the morning after another Ottawa win, this time on the road against Detroit.

“They should almost die in a plane crash more often,” she said dryly. Then she grimaced. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you were on that plane.”

Harris waved a hand dismissively. “I’m alive.”

“Alive and grumpy,” Gen muttered.

Harris only grunted in response.

Ottawa was enjoying the team’s longest win streak in over ten years, which should have put Harris in a good mood. But instead he couldn’t stop thinking about Troy. He knew the team had flown back late last night after the game, and he’d felt a ridiculous stab of longing for Troy to drive straight to Harris’s apartment. He wanted to be the man Troy went home to, and he was frustrated by how close he’d possibly gotten to being that.

Or maybe he was kidding himself.

“To be fair,” Gen said, “your grumpy is like my very best mood.”

“Maybe I’m not grumpy.”

Gen scoffed. “Something is bothering you. The team is on a hot streak and you’re miserable.”

There was no way Harris was going to tell Gen about Troy. For one thing, it would mean outing Troy. For another, it was too embarrassing to talk about. What had Harris been expecting? For Troy Barrett to want to be his boyfriend? Men who looked like Troy didn’t date men who looked like Harris. Troy’s last boyfriend had been a stunningly beautiful television star with, like, a sixteen-pack.

Troy probably only saw Harris as a convenient fix. Someone he was comfortable enough to come out to, which was nice, but also someone who wasn’t much of a risk. He’d known Harris was gay the minute he’d first met him, and he also likely assumed that Harris wouldn’t reject him.

“I’m going take a walk,” Harris said. “I need a break from the computer.”

He needed a break from these dark thoughts. He knew they weren’t true. Troy had fixed that intense, cobalt gaze on him enough times to let Harris know that he saw something he liked. He had, in fact, told Harris that he liked him when they’d decided to end the physical side of their relationship. He just needed space, and Harris needed to give it to him without pouting about it. And, besides, being friends with Troy was...nice. They got along well, and Troy seemed happier lately, laughing and smiling more easily, and throwing himself into helping victims of sexual assault however he could. In short, he was continuing to be wonderful and handsome, while also maintaining a commitment to friendship without benefits. It was basically killing Harris.

“Tell Troy I said hi,” Gen said.

“I’m not going to see Troy.”

“Sure.”

Troy probably wasn’t even in the building. Maybe. Harris supposed it was the usual time for him to be working out in the team gym.

He wished he could stop thinking about their last night together. God, the way Troy had fucked him. He’d given Harris exactly what he’d needed and it had been incredible.

And then he’d held him all night, and talked to him while they’d relaxed in bed together the next morning. He’d washed Harris’s hair, blown him in the shower, teased him about his slow cooker.

Harris liked him so much.

Of course Harris walked past the entrance of the team gym, and furtively peeked inside. He wouldn’t go in, but he wanted a glimpse of Troy. Just a taste.

Troy wasn’t there.

Probably just as well. Harris kept walking, pulling his phone out to check Twitter as he rounded a corner.

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