“You okay on dinner? I can have something delivered.”
“No, I’m good. I’m learning to master the air fryer. So far, I haven’t started a fire, so I feel it’s going well.”
I chuckle. Taking a step back, I press a soft kiss to his lips. “All day tomorrow. I promise.”
Arush nods.
It isn’t until I’m at the hotel where the Arizona team is staying that I realize I should have invited Arush along. It’s actually really shitty of me not to have. But I feel like I need to have a conversation on both ends first, and I’m not sure how that conversation begins. Meeting four strangers at once can be a little overwhelming.
The guys pile into my SUV with a chorus of “Jules!” as if I hadn’t just seen them a couple of days ago. In fact, we’d spent a couple days together since there was an obnoxious gap between games.
I grin. “Welcome to chilly Chicago.”
“It’s not Edmonton,” Hilt points out. “You’re not still buried in snow.”
“Okay, fair.”
We head to a restaurant near the arena and sit around a table. Conversation is as it always is. Hockey. Hilt’s family. Horny being Horny. Although tonight, he decides he’s going to mix things up a little.
“So, I did a thing,” Horny says. I think we all hear the nervousness in his voice.
“What’s that?” Keno asks.
“I signed up for Thrustr.”
A beat of silence passes before Keno says, “Cool. Hooked up yet?”
Horny shakes his head. “No. I’ve been thinking about what you said months ago. About it being okay to experiment and stuff. I’m not sure I’m going to hook up this way, or at all, but—” He shrugs.
“Good for you, man,” Hilt says, clapping him on the shoulder.
“A word of caution,” Etna says and Horny meets his eyes. “Be careful.”
“I can’t get a dude pregnant,” Horny says, frowning.
I laugh, shaking my head.
“No. I didn’t mean that or diseases. I trust that you know the risks involved with unprotected sex.” Horny nods. “I mean, I want you to think about the hockey headlines of athletes in the news with sex scandals.”
“Specifically, the gay hockey players,” Keno says. “I think it’s great that you feel comfortable potentially exploring your sexuality. I’m not knocking doing so through Thrustr either. I just want you to be extra cautious of the situation so you don’t end up as one of those headlines.”
Max Latham comes to mind immediately and his notorious St. Andrew’s Cross exposé. Then there was Felton Badcock and his Benny Bop account, though it’s still entirely unfounded that heisBenny Bop. There’s zero facial proof. Not a soul has come forward to confirm him as such. Only a star on his hip serves as the sole, circumstantial proof. A tattoo that’s been duplicated thousands of times, both in support of leaving Felton alone and because it’s not an uncommon tattoo or spot to have a tattoo.
There have been others, but those are the biggest ones over the past handful of years involving hockey players.
“I’ll be extra careful,” Horny vows.
“Good,” Etna says.
“So, what’s new since we saw you a couple of days ago?” Hilt asks me.
Arush flashes in my mind and… I’m not sure I’m ready for a full debriefing on what’s going on here. This isn’t a situation like Keno and Etna, where they’d practically been married already and are just making it official.
I found this guy online. On a mail-order spouse website.
“I met someone,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Not in the last couple days but… we’ve been talking for the past month.”
“Ohhh!” Horny says excitedly. “When do we get to meet her?”
