Page 69 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“You think I want to see people hitting on you? This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but if we want to exist without any outside commentary, we’re going to have to put on this act occasionally.” He leans in for a tender kiss before he continues. “The only alternative is coming forward, and if you want to do that, tonight would be a great opportunity—it’s not like management can do anything other but swallow their tongues if we come out on such a big stage—but if you don’t, we have to play the role everyone expects us to.”

I hate the idea of playing a role. Hate that I’m not being truthful, but I hate the idea of living on a public stage even more. I know I signed up for that—sort of—when I joined the NHL, but the part of me thatwas so focused on the game forgot that the stage would extend beyond the rink if I made a big enough name for myself. And being one of the league’s top scorers this year, my name isn’t unknown. Neither is Luca’s,obviously. The two of us together—there’d be a lot of attention, and I don’t want that.

I’m not saying I’ll never be okay with that, I’m just not ready for it now, so soon after I’ve found the person who makes me happiest. I want to savor these moments, the ones where everything is new and exciting and perfect, without having to make statements or defend our right to be in love the way my teammates did when they came out. I don’t want anything to taint the start of this relationship, and if that means I have to play a role then I guess I need to become a good actor. Or at least a competent liar.

“I know.” I let my head fall to Luca’s chest. “I’m afraid I’ll be awful at it, but I know what we have to do.”

“It won’t be that bad.” His fingers sift through my hair. “We’ll get in and go straight to the bar for drinks then find the guys. We’ll mingle, together, so we don’t risk any of those pining looks they keep accusing us of giving each other. And I won’t leave your side, which will be easy since we’re at the same table for dinner. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Of course, things don’t go according to plan.

It’s my fault, really. I see the guys as soon as we get in the venue and make a beeline for them assuming Luca’s with me. Only he goes toward the bar thinking I’ll follow him. Before I can search him out, I get pulled into a conversation with one of the donors who paid big money to attend the event—some entrepreneur who’s apparently friends with the Denver Stallions quarterback that started this charity—and I don’t know how to excuse myself without being rude. So, I stand there and do my best to listen.

Based on the history he’s recounting, it sounds like it was the entrepreneur’s idea to have athletes from all the sports teams attend this thing so it’d be a bigger draw for potential donors. I thank him for the invitation—since receiving one apparently means he considers me one of the top athletes on our team–and smile while he tells me all about the indoor skydiving thing his wife got him to do a few years back since he’s too scared of heights to jump out of an actual plane.

It’s easily the most interesting conversation I’ve had at one of these things since he’s not just asking us about our season, and I’m kind of enjoying myself. Until I see a brunette woman fling herself into Luca’s arms across the room, clinging to him like—well, like she’s got a right to, which she sure as shit doesn’t.

An elbow to the ribs tells me I might be broadcasting the fact I resent her actions.

“Chill out,” Xander mutters.

“Who is that?”

“No idea.” Xander sips his beer. “Doesn’t matter, he’s going home with you.”

“She doesn’t know that though.” I snatch a glass of champagne off a passing tray, using the glass to help hide the firm line of my lips.

“But you do, so stop freaking out about it and get back to mingling.”

“I am.”

“You were. Now you’re staring. Switch.” Xander grabs my arm and spins us so my back is to Luca, but in the process he bumps me against another guest.

“Oof, sorry.” I mumble, trying to keep my champagne in the glass. “I do better on skates.”

“I know how that is. Charles.” The man holds out a hand.

“Justus.” I take it.

“I know,” he chuckles as he pumps our hands.

When he frees me, I scratch the bridge of my nose to hide my redness. “Yeah, not sure that will ever feel normal.”

“I’m not sure it should.”

“Good point.” When I catch Xander rolling his wrist, a signal for me to keep talking, I do. “Been to one of these before?”

“First time. You?”

“Second.”

“So how does it work exactly?”

“For you? I think you just buy your plate and then you can do whatever. For me, I’m supposed to interact with the guests and pose for pictures and stuff.” I tug at the collar of my tux, trying not to smile at the memory of Luca doing the same thing.

“Not really your scene, huh?” Charles asks.

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