Page 9 of The Poster Boy (Love The Game #3)

Jay

M yers was late for the fucking bus, which meant we were late for the airport.

Andrew had decided to be best buddies with him, and they were currently sitting three rows ahead of me on the plane.

We were flying to Calgary for the first of six away games.

It was going to be a long slog, no doubt made worse by the fucking media that buzzed around Myers like flies on shit.

To his credit, Myers gave the media a wave on the way past at the arena as we boarded the bus for the airport and didn’t hold us up by engaging in another insipid interview. How many soundbites did they need of the guy?

Boone dropped down into the seat next to me and poked me in the side.

“Jesus, Boone.” I flinched away from him. “What was that for?”

He raised an eyebrow and looked into my soul with his accusatory gaze.

Okay, so maybe I was staring. And glaring.

And not very under the radar with my feelings toward the new goalie.

Maybe if I didn’t have to see the guy’s naked body every time I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t be so grumpy.

Except for the whole golden child, chosen one, poster boy thing he had going on, Myers was my type.

“Whatever hang-up you have, you need to get over it, Jay.”

I looked at Boone, who never used my real name, and gave him a nod. Never did I pretend that I was a perfect person. I knew I was being an asshole about Myers, but I couldn’t stop myself. Part of me didn’t want to. Part of me liked having someone to be mad at. Someone who wasn’t myself.

But Boone was right. I needed to get over it. For the good of the team if for no other reason.

Saying nothing, I let out a sigh, which Boone took for agreement to his demand.

“What is your deal with him anyway?” He kept his voice low, leaning close to prevent being overheard. But hockey players were big gossips, and I wasn’t about to air my shit on the plane. We weren’t even in the air yet. We still had the short flight to Calgary, then a bus ride to the arena.

“I’m just a grumpy old asshole, Boone. You know this. Everyone knows this.”

He grinned and kicked my foot with his. “You’re not half as grumpy as you pretend to be. You’re just… insular.”

Sometimes I hated that Boone and I lived together. It meant that I couldn’t pretend that I was anything but what I was. A mid-list professional athlete with numbered days, no idea what I’d do after I couldn’t play anymore, who was so deep in the closet the only balls I got close to were mothballs.

Boone knew I was gay, but it wasn’t something we talked about.

For all the other ways he was entrenched in my personal and professional life, he’d drawn the line at my private life.

Sure, once in a while he’d do his duty as my best friend and remind me that I was busy, not dead, and that plenty of other players balanced work and play.

But Boone was one to talk. For as outgoing as he was, he’d only dipped his toes into the dating pool now and again. I’d asked him why at one point, and when he lobbed my question back to me, it sort of became this unspoken agreement between the two of us that we had our reasons for staying single.

The difference was that Boone was a catch. He was the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to meet your family. Hell, at least he’d know how to act around one. I was still trying to get used to the Weimer clan, and I’d been an honorary member for years.

I couldn’t deny his comment about being insular.

I played the game. I went to practice and went to the gym.

I stuck to myself a lot. If it wasn’t for Boone dragging me out and making me socialize, I’d honestly never go out.

It wasn’t that I hated it, but I never thought to do it.

If I didn’t have anywhere to be, I’d most often rather be at home.

Once we were in the air, Boone reclined his seat and covered his face with his ball cap. One of the biggest secrets between us was how little Boone liked flying. But it was a necessary evil, he’d said, like going to the dentist. Just because you can make yourself go, doesn’t mean it's easy.

It was why Boone sat next to me on the flights.

He knew I’d read my book and leave him alone to sleep or meditate, or whatever it was he did that got him through the flight.

I didn’t need conversation between us to be comfortable with him, and I think he enjoyed the fact that everyone left him alone during the flights now.

I pulled my phone out with the intention of reading but quickly hopped into my group chat. It was the one space besides home that I felt comfortable being myself. Surrounded by different queer athletes gave me a sense of belonging that I sometimes yearned for in my daily life.

What kinds of things do retired athletes do?

Connor

Are you retiring?

No. But I can’t play forever.

Brayden

He’s just worried about facing off against me.

Fat chance.

Camden

You could coach.

Brayden

HA! Good joke

Connor

That was mean.

But accurate. No coaching.

Connor

What brought this on?

Just thinking that I can’t punch people in the face for a living forever. Sadly.

Laughter got my attention. Myers and Andrew were having a great time together in the rows ahead of me.

Whatever they were talking about was apparently the funniest thing ever.

The lively conversation continued for most of the flight.

I was glad that Boone seemed unfazed by it, and I wished I could say the same for myself.

Through sheer determination alone, I managed to keep my eyes on my phone the rest of the time and not let them wander to try and catch a glimpse of Myers.

Boone was forced out of his little coma for landing, and now that we were back on solid ground, his mouth moved ten miles a minute.

It was partly because that’s how Boone was built.

He was probably talking before he came out of the womb.

But if you bothered to look closer, you could see how tense he held himself for the first few minutes until he got his anxiety under control.

“Did I tell you that my sister Tracy’s kid wants to be a Zamboni for Halloween?”

I might be a grumpy asshole, but no one could be grumpy when it came to Tracy’s kid. I’d known Ansel almost since he was born. I was an honorary uncle to the kid.

“A Zamboni driver, you mean?”

“Nope. A Zamboni. My sister was up until one in the morning figuring out how to turn a bunch of boxes into one. Because the Zamboni itself isn’t badass enough, this kid wanted to be a Zamboni transformer.”

“I’m not even going to pretend that isn’t the most badass thing I’ve ever heard.”

“He made her promise that he can keep the costume until after Christmas so he can show us.” Boone eyed me. “You’re still coming for Christmas, right?”

I scoffed. “Of course, I’m coming.” It was either go with Boone or sit in our apartment and stare at the television. “I think your mom would murder me if I didn’t show up.”

“She’d definitely have a few choice words for you.” He bumped his shoulder into mine. “I wonder if my baby sister is still embarrassingly in love with you.”

The only reason Boone found her crush mildly amusing was because there was no way I’d ever go there.

“If she is, please murder me and bury me far, far away.”

“I swear her eyes turn into actual hearts when you walk into a room. It’s a little revolting.”

“Even more reason for you to shut up about it.”

Boone was the oldest of three kids. Tracy was only a year younger than him, and eight years later came little baby Bella. The Weimer’s favorite surprise. Just recently turned eighteen, Bella’s crush on me dated back a few years, and Boone had never let me live it down.

“I’m sure she’s found someone new to obsess over,” Boone teased.

“Hopefully someone more age appropriate.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“What are you two yammering on about now?” Church asked as we stood at the luggage carousel and waited for our bags.

From here it was to the bus, then to the arena.

The short flight to Calgary meant that we could travel early in the day from Vancouver.

Play the game here, then be on the plane again for another short flight to Minnesota and overnight there for our game the next day before going on to Boston.

As much as I loved home ice, traveling to other venues and playing in different cities was something I loved just as much. The energy in different arenas, the crowds, the fact that we seemed to have fans in every city.

When we got our gear, Boone took his hat off and zipped it into his hockey bag. He only wore it during flights. Hockey players were weird and superstitious, and Boone’s airplane hat was one of his quirks .

I hated to admit that Myers cleaned up nice.

I tried not to look at the way his suit fit the curve of his ass as he bent and reached for his bag.

But I knew what that ass looked like under those pants.

I knew what those shoulders looked like bare and covered in soap.

I hated that I knew because I couldn’t unsee it.

Sometimes I’d chance a hookup. There were plenty of guys who’d do a hockey player on the down low. Even a couple other hockey players who weren’t like Myers, out in the public and hounded by the press.

Because my attention had been on Myers, I’d almost missed the clamoring throng of his fans, all of them with cameras and questions about how he liked his new team.

Even though he’d answered that question to other news outlets and wanna-be journalists.

But Myers was always all too happy to smile for the cameras.

He stopped in front of the little scrum of reporters momentarily. They were still peppering him with questions when the last of the bags hit the carousel. Coach O’Neil had to go pry him away from his adoring fan club so we could get on the bus.

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” I said to Boone, knowing he would likely chew me out for it but not caring.

Myers tossed a look over his shoulder, and I swear I saw his smile falter before he turned away.

Next to me, Boone shook his head. “You’re a real asshole, Jay.

Cut the kid a break, will you? It’s not his fault how shit went down, and he’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Whatever your issue is with him, it’s stupid.

Let it go.” He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze to show me that while he might think I was an asshole—I was—that he still liked me.

“Okay. Fine. You win. I’ll let it go. ”

“Good boy.”

He ruffled my hair because I’m not the only one capable of being an asshole. We got on the bus, and I took my seat next to him, thankful that we were in the front and I’d seen Myers closer to the back, and I wouldn’t have to look at him all the way to the Saddledome.