Page 35 of The Trade Deadline

Chapter 24

Ryan

Ryan sat nervously on a bar stool in Rangoons. There was a half-eaten plate of crab rangoons in front of him and he was already on his second non-alcoholic beer. If they didn’t have practice tomorrow, he might’ve even gone for an actual beer, he was so nervous. How could he be nervous? This was Lars . A guy he’d already slept with three times, a guy he’d seen nearly every day for months and talked to almost every day while they were away.

He ran his clammy palms down his thighs and tried to stop his legs from shaking. He was wearing jeans. Jeans! What next, khakis? To impress a guy who’d regularly seen him in suits when they had to dress up for travel and before games.

A gust of wind as the front door opened made Ryan sit up straight. He turned to look, then sighed in disappointment as a group of strangers stamped their feet and then made their way to a booth.

Ryan didn’t like this anxious feeling. He didn’t like that something other than hockey could have his stomach twisted in knots. If this was what dating was like, he wasn’t sure he liked it. It was distracting and uncomfortable and?—

This time the cool air brought in Lars, wearing a beanie pulled too far down and a long, green raincoat over a Crabs hoodie, and something inside Ryan shifted. Their dating or non-dating was no longer relevant, because he understood he’d suffer more than a little discomfort for the chance to stay in Lars Nilsson’s orbit. Without meaning to, he’d stood halfway up but caught himself. What was he planning on doing? Going up to him? Hugging him? Kissing him? He firmly planted his feet around the legs of the bar stool as he smiled at Lars.

Lars caught sight of him immediately. He shook off the slightest dusting of snow that made him look stupidly handsome, and walked over. He clapped Ryan hard on the back, his fingers digging into the meat there, and took the empty bar stool.

“Hi,” he said, then popped a crab rangoon in his mouth.

“Hey.” Ryan licked his lips and watched the way Lars’s throat worked as he swallowed. “How was Ohio?”

Lars shrugged. “It’s unfortunate that every time I’m in Ohio, I have to see Anders, so I’m not particularly endeared to the state.” His expression brightened slightly. “But the kids made me a scrapbook of all the fights Anders and I have had. They even drew some pictures. Mormor was very displeased.” He sounded mischievous as he said this last part, like a child who’s played a particularly good prank.

Ryan didn’t know whether to laugh or not. He didn’t at all understand Lars’s relationship with his brother, nor did he even know how to begin approaching it. It was nothing like him with his sisters, but he didn’t have a brother at all, so maybe this was more within the realm of normal than he gave it credit for.

“You were in Montana?” Lars promoted. “Did you have to clean a barn?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“It was on the Blue Crabs page,” Lars said. “They asked me what I was doing, and I think they asked a lot of people where they were going for break. You said you would have to clean your family’s barn.”

Oh. He remembered that. He honestly wasn’t one for social media. He had it, because of course he did, but he didn’t engage much with it. He followed friends and family only, posted sparingly, and sometimes shared posts to signal boost a cause or event. He absolutely did not look at hockey stuff. The last thing he wanted to know was what anyone was saying about him, his team, or the league.

“I did,” he agreed. “I forgot, and I guess I didn’t expect anyone to actually read what I said.”

Or care. Well, no, he knew he had fans. Not at the same volume as other players, but he’d seen his jersey in the stands enough to know people liked him.

“I always read them,” Lars said. The thought that his past self was out there online had never much mattered; knowing Lars actually read them made his chest flutter. Had he gone back to read the older ones…?

Ryan suddenly wondered if he’d said anything embarrassing. Probably—he rode a line between his real self and a public persona that was a lot funnier and more easygoing than he actually was—but there was an amount of embarrassment that didn’t bother him when it was in front of strangers and then a much lower amount he could stomach when it was Lars.

“I comment on them sometimes.” There was a twinkle in Lars’s eyes.

Great. Now Ryan was going to have to dive into Crabs’ social media just to read Lars’s comments.

The bartender interrupted to get Lars a drink and get his order.

“That’s probably why the fans like you,” Ryan muses. “You did that pick-up game over Thanksgiving. You comment on social media. You score a lot.”

“Not as much as last season,” Lars grumbled into his beer. When he put it down, he was smiling and Ryan couldn’t tell if he was actually annoyed about his production or not. “They like you, too, you know.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Because I’m pretty?” he asked sarcastically. He was well aware his fan base was mostly women. Not that he minded, but he’d seen enough signs at warm-ups and practice to know why they liked him.

“You are pretty,” Lars agreed, “but they also like that you always stop to sign autographs and work with youth hockey and never say anything bad even when we lose. They also appreciate all the goals, so we should keep that up.”

“To goals.” He lifted his drink and let Lars clink his against the glass. “ Sk?l .”

“ Sk?l ,” Lars repeated with wide eyes. “How…?”

Ryan took a sip, pleased to have surprised him. “It was one of the first things you ever said to me, I think. I don’t actually know Swedish.”

Yet came unbidden, a silent promise he didn’t dare examine. It was safer to pretend he’d never thought it at all.

Lars seemed a little disappointed. “Oh. I wish I remembered.” He perked up. “I’ll try to say more interesting things from now on.”

Ryan gulped. “Like what?”

“ Du ?r s? sexig. ”

“Ha! I think I got that one.” He flushed at the compliment. “What else you got?”

“ Jag ?r f?r?lskad i dig .”

This one stumped him. “No clue.”

Lars grinned widely. “I have a crush on you.”

Ryan had already been blushing; now his whole face was on fire. He took a cautious look around before leaning in, his hand barely brushing Lars’s as he said, “ Jag ?r f?r?lskad i dig , too,” with a stilted attempt to mimic Lars. He swiped his thumb once more over the back of Lars’s hand before he pulled away to a safe distance. “Sorry, that sounded awful.”

“No.” Lars coughed and fidgeted in his seat. “That was really good.”

Lars’s food arrived, and after he thanked the bartender, he hesitated. “After dinner…”

“After?” Ryan’s throat was suddenly dry.

“Will we be…hanging out?” he asked innocently. “Any new video games?”

Ryan had dutifully returned Tanner’s extra Xbox weeks ago, so he was fairly certain there would be no video games in their foreseeable future. “I might be free. Why do you ask?” He did his best to copy his coy tone.

“Just want to know if I should take my time enjoying my meal, so I can maximize my time with you tonight.” He motioned to the burger and fries in front of him, before pointedly saying, “Or maybe I should eat quickly so I can move on to the better part of my evening sooner.”

Ryan reflexively licked his lips. It had been a relief to get back in town before Lars. He’d spent the day cleaning his apartment and making sure his pantry was stocked with the essentials: sugary foods, flavored protein, and plenty of lube and condoms. He’d jerked off about a million times because he was so damn horny and needed to take the edge off. It hadn’t helped.

But in all other ways, he was ready.

“You should get it to go,” he said with a surprising amount of confidence. “I’ve got a busy night planned.”

* * *

He and Lars fell into a rhythm so easily it should’ve scared him. They were back on the grind, a killer schedule of games and training that wouldn’t let up again until the All Star break at the beginning of February. They’d been spoiled by the mini-breaks around both Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Ryan honestly preferred the torment of the grind; it meant he wouldn’t have time to actually think about the fact that every night, without fail, he left the rink to fuck Lars Nilsson.

And it wasn’t just the sex. It was the making breakfast together, the lazy make-out sessions while watching movies, the falling asleep and waking up in each other’s arms. That was what he didn’t want to analyze, because he was pretty sure it all meant one thing.

The problem was twofold.

One: they had never confirmed out loud that they were dating. Nothing about “boyfriends” or anything like that, and Ryan definitely wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Two: what did it mean to date someone? Ryan wasn’t worried in the philosophical sense. His concerns were completely practical. Should they carpool together? Should they keep toiletries at each other’s place? If someone asked, should he say he was in a relationship? How would he field the inevitable follow-up questions? Were they exclusive?

The anxiety those thoughts prompted made him immediately opt out of figuring out the answer.

And honestly, he didn’t need to. Things were going well. Ryan didn’t necessarily need to be in a relationship to enjoy what they were doing together.

…he would just be kind of bummed if it ended.

“Stop,” he warned himself out loud, causing Tomas and the Ivans to look at him strangely. “Just thinking about the play,” he mumbled and turned his attention back to the drill.

Later, in the locker room, he started to consider the evening. No game tonight, which meant dinner and seeing if Lars wanted to go to Ryan's apartment or his. And maybe?—

He had a missed call from Tanner. Tanner, who never called. Ryan was surprised Tanner even knew how to use the call feature on his phone. There was a text, too.

kind of an emergency pls call

I know you’re probably at hockey work but there’s a problem

No one is hurt or anything but your apartment is fucked

That was ominous.

Ryan abandoned changing (he’d at least gotten his gear off, but was still in his sweaty Under Armour) and stepped out of the locker room.

“What’s wrong with my apartment?” he asked as soon as the line connected. “Are you sure no one’s hurt?”

“Hey, bro,” Tanner said with more seriousness than usual. He sounded…sober? Like when he’d gone to his parents’ place and laid off the weed for a day. “Yeah, no one’s hurt but something went wrong with the pipes on your floor. Something burst and it got so bad it was leaking into my place a bit, so I used your spare key to look. Total shit show, lemme tell you.”

Ryan froze. He hadn’t realized he’d been pacing until he stopped in the middle of the hallway, chest tight like he’d just finished a two minute shift. “What?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve called the landlord and made him get guys in to start fixing it. I don’t think you wanna stay there, though. It’s a mess and smells kinda funky, and they had to shut off the water so no showers or toilet or cooking or laundry or, well, you get the idea.”

He did, and the idea was awful. “How long did they say it would take?” It didn’t sound like a “done by five” type of fix.

Tanner made an indecipherable noise. Something between “shit I’m out of potions” and “whoops I forgot this map.”

“Tanner…” he warned.

“They don’t know for sure, but probably early February?”

“Febr—? Tanner, it’s barely January!” He winced at his own rising voice, and tried to calm down. “So I’m basically homeless for a month?”

“Homeless?”

Tanner was still talking, something about how Ryan was more than welcome to stay with him, but when Ryan turned around and found Lars watching him, he stopped listening.

“Hey, Tanner, I’ll have to call you back,” he said and ended the call.

“What’s wrong?” They were in the middle of the hallway that the whole team would have to go through to leave, and it was clear Lars was doing his best to keep his voice light, like a curious teammate with only a passing interest. His expression told a different story, brow knit in concern and eyes watching him sharply. “Why are you homeless? What is a Tanner?”

The last question caught him off guard, so he started with that. “Tanner is my neighbor.”

“Tanner is a name?” Lars asked incredulously, his face betraying his disapproval of American names.

“My apartment flooded. It’s no big deal,” Ryan said breezily, the same way he’d respond to a reporter asking him about a disastrous game. “Tanner said I can stay with him. It’s a bit of a pain since it’s for?—”

“A month,” Lars interrupted. “Stay with me. I have room.”

Ryan stared at him. That was very technically true—his condo was huge—but it only had one bedroom. Which was obviously not a problem, since Ryan had slept in Lars’s bed about as often as his own the past week, but if anyone else knew and found out Ryan was staying there, it’d be hard to play it off as a friend helping out a friend.

“You’re there most of the time, anyway.” Lars said it quietly so the words barely crossed the four feet to him; no one else could overhear. “No one knows I don’t have a guest room. You’re the only one who’s been over.”

Relief flooded through him, then a strange sort of pride that he was the only guest to visit Lars. And finally, a tingly sensation that reminded him of being drunk or high, but one he knew was completely brought on by the prospect of temporarily living with Lars.

“You like breaking all the rules, huh? Teammates with benefits, now roommates?”

“I certainly like all the benefits,” Lars said with a wink. Then, more seriously, “And I would like to help. And see you more. And other things I can’t say when we could be interrupted?—”

On cue, Jake pushed out of the locker room, on the phone with his wife. He shot them both a wave and a smile, never faltering as he listed upcoming basketball games and practices for his oldest. He was out the door into the parking garage within seconds, but the illusion of privacy was broken.

Ryan considered a moment. This was a no brainer, right?

Practical. Lars lived closer to the rink. Ryan did spend a lot of time there, and it would be less intrusive to Tanner. Tanner was also sweet but kind of a slob.

No emotions involved at all.

“How will I pay you back?” Joking about it made the whole thing more manageable.

“Oh, I’m sure we can arrange something,” Lars promised.

“I’ll have to swing by my place to grab some stuff,” he said, trying out the idea of this arrangement. He definitely liked it. “I could pick up dinner on the way over.”

Lars waved off the idea. “I’ll cook. It’ll be ready by the time you’re home.”

He’s foreign, Ryan reminded himself as his heart leapt. He doesn’t know what that sounds like.

“Great.” His voice shook slightly. “Give me an hour?”

“Of course.” Lars grinned. “This’ll be fun.”