Page 7 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

He held his breath, not wanting to make even the faintest sound that might compete with this perfect gift Fabian was giving the audience.

Ryan couldn’t believe this was actually happening in front of him and that there were people in the world who were not here witnessing what was surely humanity’s most impressive achievement.

The song ended, the audience erupted into cheers, and Ryan, gobsmacked, nearly forgot to clap. And then he realized that was only the first song.

“Thank you,” Fabian said quietly, as if he hadn’t just done something completely amazing. “This next song is new. I haven’t named it yet, but I wanted to try it out tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

There was scattered applause and a few whoops of appreciation.

Ryan had considered, as he’d been walking to the club, just staying for a song or two, but there was no way he was going anywhere now.

He stood, barely moving, for however long it took Fabian to finish his set.

Thirty minutes? Forty? Ryan had no idea how much time had passed because he was transfixed.

When the last song finished, Fabian sort of half bowed and blew kisses at the crowd.

The show was over, and Ryan should leave, but now he really wanted to talk to Fabian.

Just to tell him how much he had enjoyed the show.

Fabian hopped off the stage and Ryan lost sight of him for a while.

He considered getting a beer, or maybe finding a table to sit at, now that some of the people were starting to clear out.

Instead, he leaned back against the wall and stared at the floor for a few minutes, just to keep himself from obsessively scanning the crowd for Fabian.

It was probably twenty minutes later when Ryan saw Fabian standing alone next to an empty table, drinking from a bottle of water. Ryan decided this was his chance, and took a step toward him. He ran a hand quickly over his beard, hoping he looked all right.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a man wrap his arms around Fabian.

Fabian beamed at the man, and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

The man was stocky, with skin slightly darker than Fabian’s, and he was wearing a stylish outfit complete with dark-rimmed glasses.

He was cute. And of course Fabian had an adorable boyfriend.

The man’s hand stayed on Fabian’s arm as they chatted. Possessive, Ryan thought. He didn’t blame him. But he did hate him a little.

Jesus. What the hell gave him the right to think badly of Fabian’s boyfriend?

Ryan didn’t know the guy. Ryan didn’t know Fabian.

Ryan needed to get out of this bar. He didn’t belong here.

This was why he never went anywhere. This was why he was so fucking lonely.

He was about to turn away when Fabian suddenly locked eyes with him.

Shit.

Fabian’s face broke into a smile, and he gently tapped the other man’s arm before making his way to Ryan.

“I thought that was you,” Fabian said. He was still smiling—a full, delighted smile that showed his teeth. Ryan realized his own mouth was just sort of hanging open, like a dead fish.

“Hi. I, um, was just—you mentioned you were playing here. Tonight. When we were talking last week. In the, um...”

Fabian stepped closer. “I remember. I didn’t expect you to actually come.”

“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have—”

“No! No, I’m glad you’re here. It’s...really sweet. Actually.”

“Oh.”

“I perhaps should have been clearer about the dress code.” Fabian’s gaze swept over Ryan’s light gray suit, and his lips twisted into a teasing smile.

“I came straight from the arena. I didn’t have time to change. I know I look ridiculous.”

“Not at all.”

For a few seconds, they stood in silence, and Ryan wanted to both run away, and to reach out and touch his fingers to Fabian’s gorgeous face.

Standing as close as they were, Ryan could now clearly see the artistry of his makeup; Fabian’s eyelids were painted in smoky layers of black and silver, and there was an iridescent shimmery powder on his face that highlighted his sharp cheekbones.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Fabian asked.

Fuck, Ryan. How rude are you? “Holy god. Yeah, it was unreal. You are...really good.”

Fabian pressed his lips together, then said, “Thank you.”

Ryan wanted to say more, but he couldn’t find the right words to describe how incredible Fabian’s music had been. So instead he said, “Well, I should let you get back to—”

“Come sit with us,” Fabian interrupted. “You can meet my friends. I have drink tickets. What can I get you?”

“Oh. You don’t have to—”

“Come on. You can tell me some more about how great I was.”

Ryan laughed at that. “Okay.”

Fabian led him back to the man he’d been hugging, and kissing, and touching a few minutes ago. “This is my friend, Tarek. He lives with my other friends, Vanessa, who is here...somewhere...and Marcus, who isn’t here because he’s working tonight.”

Friend. “Nice to meet you, Tarek.” Ryan extended his hand. “Ryan.”

Tarek’s face clearly expressed that he had no idea who Ryan was, but not in a rude way. “Ryan,” he repeated back as he shook his hand.

“Ryan used to live with my family,” Fabian explained. “When we were both seventeen.”

“Oh!” Understanding dawned on Tarek’s face. “You’re a hockey player!”

“Yeah.” Ryan fiddled with the button on his suit jacket, and wished for the millionth time that he’d had time to change.

“Do you still play?” Tarek asked politely.

Ryan wasn’t famous, exactly, but it was unusual for him to be speaking to anyone who didn’t know who he was. Unusual, and kind of nice, to be meeting people who had no expectations about him. “I play for the Guardians. For now, at least. I get traded a lot.” God. Shut up, Ryan.

“That must be tough,” Tarek said, and he sounded truly sympathetic. “I moved a lot as a kid. It sucks.”

Ryan nodded. “It does.” He desperately tried to think of something to ask Tarek, but was spared when a woman attacked Fabian with the kind of hug that was normally reserved for game-winning goals.

“Fabian! That was so fucking good!”

Ryan couldn’t see Fabian’s reaction, because his face was covered by the woman’s voluminous, curly blond hair. She turned her head to look directly at Ryan, without letting go of Fabian. “Wasn’t that incredible?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “Amazing.”

She released Fabian and turned fully to face Ryan. “Who are you?”

The question was so blunt, it startled a laugh out of him. “Uh, Ryan. Just...we used to, ah...”

“Hi, Ryan! Are you a fan of Fabian’s?”

“I, um...”

Fabian came to his rescue. “This is Vanessa, by the way. She’s kind of a lot.”

“Definitely true,” she agreed. “I like the suit.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“What can I get you, Ryan?” Fabian asked, tilting his head toward the bar.

“You don’t have to—”

“A beer? I’m going to guess beer.”

There was a quirk to Fabian’s lips that let Ryan know he was being playful. Ryan answered in kind. “You shouldn’t make assumptions about people.”

Vanessa punched Fabian’s arm. “That’s right. You should know better. Ryan, I happen to know that the bartender tonight makes the most amazing lemon drop martinis. Give me the drink tickets, Fabe. You stay and keep your friend company.”

Fabian fixed a look on Vanessa’s face that probably said a lot of things that Ryan couldn’t translate, and handed her a strip of paper tickets. “I’ll have one of those martinis.”

Vanessa pointed at Tarek, and then Ryan. “Martini? Martini?”

“Sure,” Tarek said.

“Ah, I actually would just like a beer,” Ryan said shyly.

“Ha!” Vanessa looked delighted. “Beer it is. Tarek, come with me.”

“Subtle,” Tarek muttered as he turned to follow her.

Fabian watched his ridiculous friends make their way through the crowd to the bar, before turning his attention back to Ryan. “They might be a while,” he said. “Vanessa has a crush on the bartender.”

Ryan’s hair was tied back in a little bun tonight, which only accentuated the poofiness of his beard. “I don’t know how you write songs like that. Or play onstage in front of people.”

“Don’t you play hockey in front of, like, a million people all the time?”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s not?” Fabian genuinely didn’t understand how it wasn’t the same thing.

Ryan shook his head. “I can play hockey in front of a crowd, but I could never, like, sing the national anthem, y’know?”

Fabian tried to picture that, and smiled to himself. “That’s because you’re good at hockey. I’m good at this.” He gestured toward the stage. “And my audiences don’t tend to boo me when I make a mistake. I’ve heard that sports fans are less forgiving.”

Ryan’s mouth turned up a bit at that. “They can be pretty harsh for sure. And I’m not so sure I’m good at hockey.”

Okay. Well this was just dumb. “You play in the NHL, Ryan. Is there a higher league I’m not aware of?” He frowned. “Honest question. There actually might be one.”

Ryan laughed. “No. The NHL is the highest. But I’m not—” He stopped himself, and Fabian wondered what he had been about to say. He was startled out of his wondering when Ryan blurted out, “I like your outfit.”

Fabian smiled. He was proud of his look tonight—a sheer T-shirt with black, baroque-style velvet flowers on it, black tuxedo pants, and a whole pile of sparkly necklaces he’d bought at Forever 21.

He noticed Ryan’s gaze catch on Fabian’s chest, where the piercing in his right nipple was visible through the shirt. “Thank you.”

“I feel so ordinary,” Ryan said, then immediately looked embarrassed about saying it. He ran a hand through his hair and over his beard, a gesture that Fabian already recognized as a nervous habit.

“Just an ordinary seven-foot-tall hockey star. So boring,” he teased.

Ryan blushed. “I’m not seven feet tall.”

“Did I underestimate?”

“I’m six-seven.”

Oof. Six fucking seven. Fabian had never been with a man anywhere near that tall. What would it be like? Was kissing even possible? He would dearly love to find out.