“I hardly doubt I’m the first,” I say, still not looking at the reporter. “I can guarantee there have been others besides me.”
The microphone is pushed towards my face with more force. “The first openly gay player, then?”
Now I’m annoyed. This isn’t what I wanted this moment to be about. Hell, this isn’t what this moment is supposed to be about. All I want is to find Connor and celebrate with him and my team. We’ve worked our asses off for our entire careers to be here right now, and this reporter wants to make it all about me being gay. Which, if I’m being honest, is the least fucking interesting thing about me or this moment. It’s not like being gay is some secret hockey player superpower.
I finally turn to look at the reporter. She’s smiling at me, eager for me to give her some inspirational soundbite. The poor thing is under the delusion that I’m someone who wants this mantle. Why I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever claimed it and I’ve made it abundantly clear since being outed that I have zero interest in being the league’s gay poster boy. She’s about to have a rude awakening.
“It doesn’t feel like anything,” I tell her. “I’ve been playing hockey my whole life and not once has me being gay had anything to do with it.”
She looks at me, stunned for a split second before she opens her mouth and tries again. “Is there anything you want to say to any young gay boys watching you right now?”
“Yeah,” I say with a bitter laugh. “Ignore anyone who tries to make being gay the only thing about you worth reporting on.” I skate away before she can come back with a rebuttal.
“Marshal!” Bradley yells out, pulling me into the scrum of my celebrating teammates. “You big scary bastard, get in here!”
“Where’s Connor?” I ask him, looking around.
“Last I saw, he was being hoisted up in the air by Franklin and Nichols.”
I look around some more and I finally see him. His back is to me but there’s no mistaking him. He has one arm around Nichols and the other slung over Calhoun, who’s hanging off Franklin as well. The four are being photographed, mugging it up for nearby cameras. I stay back. After that disastrous interview, I don’t want that kind of attention. In fact, I don’t want any attention at all. As I look at Connor right now, all I want is to be back in our little dorm room, crammed onto our ridiculous makeshift bed, avoiding falling through the seam.
It’s already going to be our last night in there. Tomorrow, we all leave to go home and back to our lives with only a few days’ rest before we have to report back to our teams and the regular season by Tuesday. I should care about this win. I should care about the ceremony and having that Olympic gold medal placed around my neck. But I don’t. I want the celebrations to go quickly. I want the pomp and circumstance to be over so I can relax back into the world I’ve lived in alone with Connor in the quiet of our room and hold him tight for as long as I can before he’s ripped from me, and our relationship is reduced to stolen moments when our teams cross paths until the summer.
But I will endure this for him. I will smile and wave and stand still on the podium for him because I know this win means more to him than it does to me. We came here together to go for the gold, but the difference is, I found gold in him. I don’t need a medal around my neck. I just need him in my arms and in my life.
Finally, he turns and sees me. His smile is wide. He’s lit up brighter than the flashbulbs going off around all of us. He skates to me, and I brace myself for his incoming hug. He leaps into my arms and wraps his arms around my neck. He smells like sweat and ice and the happiness that’s radiating off of him as he laughs in my hold. When I place him back on his feet, I expect him to let go of me and maybe skate away. Instead, he pulls me down to him and kisses me right there for everyone to see.
THIRD PERIOD
TWENTY
FEBRUARY 27TH—MILAN, ITALY—MOMENTS AFTER WINNING GOLD
Connor
It’s the flashing bulbs all around us that cause me to break apart our kiss. Even though I’m the one who did it—I’m the one who got lost in the moment and pulled his lips to mine—it’s my eyes that are wide open in shock. My stomach drops through the ice. Gavin, however, looks amused.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, grinning.
“It might be too late to change my mind.” I bite my lip and close my eyes as he leans in to kiss me again.
His lips never reach mine and my eyes shoot open when I feel myself getting yanked away from him. I watch in horror as he’s brought to the ice by four large men wearing black sweaters that say SECURITY. I try to skate towards him, but I’m grabbed by my elbow, and spun around to face my father.
He whispers into my ear, “If you want your boyfriend to keep his job, your answer to everything that isn’t about hockey from here on out is ‘no comment.’”
I look over my shoulder, back to where I last saw Gavin, but he’s gone. Spinning around and doing another quick scan of the rink I see him being escorted off the ice and leddown the tunnel. Bouchard is skating after him, but he’s blocked by another set of security guards. Where did all of these men come from? It’s the most security I’ve seen these entire Olympic Games.
My father yanks me back to his attention and I pull my arm out of his hold. Snarling, he says, “He’s not coming back.”
“You had this planned?”
“If you think I was going to let that piece of trash stand on the Olympic podium, then you’ve gone not just soft, but stupid as well.” He yanks my arm again and positions me in front of a reporter before he growls into my ear, “This is your moment. Take it.”
When he lets go of me, he puts on his friendliest face. The face he always wears when talking to reporters. The one that has always fooled everyone into thinking he’s a nice guy.
He is anything but nice. A fact that no one, except for maybe Gavin, is more familiar with than I am. He’s made his point loud and clear before he walks away. If I want to protect Gavin’s career, I need to play by his rules. So when the reporter asks me about the kiss I just shared with Gavin, I do as I’m told and say, “No comment.”
Gavin
