“It’s not, but while I have some ideas, I need to see how they gel with the team first.”
“Keeping Fel in goal, right?”
I nod. “Certainly. Ren has been amazing for Felton.”
There’s no league or even franchise rule that states teammates can’t date. To be honest, the rules were made when the world was an even harsher place for the queer community, so being gay in sports wasn’t a thing. I wonder, as more and more players come out as something other than straight, if those rules will be put into place.
Teams like Buffalo seemed to embrace the throuple they had. From what came out later, management knew that Ethan Wilder and Jakub Bozik were secretly married and chose to bring him to the team anyway. Then there was the budding relationship that the world watched unfold between Ethan and another teammate, Credence Ayrton.
Not long after that, Deryke Schneider was traded to Philly where his… I’m not sure “boyfriend” accurately described his relationship with Max at that point, but yeah. That happened. Deryke retired shortly after when their son was born, but still. He was there.
There are a few examples of hockey couples playing for different teams. Caulder Haines with Buffalo and Laurent Duval of Toronto come to mind. A few years earlier, there was Noah Kain in Florida and Elixon Kipler in Edmonton.
Some teams are completely fine with this, and it doesn’t seem to change team dynamics much. In fact, in Buffalo’s case, it made them a stronger team—especially when the shit began going down with the hateful public. The team truly came together.
I can say the same thing for Winnipeg. Ren and Felton getting together has been nothing but a positive influence on the team. I think my team was relatively close anyway, but Ren being what Felton needed and deserves truly made our team flourish. Even more so when Felton’s father was removed from his life and banned from all NHL games where Felton was playing.
“Felton fills the net,” Dasan says, grinning. He steps out of the little corner I’m hiding in to set his glass on a passing tray. He takes mine and does the same, probably noting that I’m not truly drinking it anymore. “You have to be damn good about finding small holes to get around him.”
The way he’s smirking at me says there’s certainly an innuendo in that sentence, though I try not to encourage him. Dasan is a flirt at the best of times, and I actually really love that he includes me among the people he’s comfortable flirting with.
I love being a coach, but I don’t love the separation that innately brings to me. Dasan’s comfort to flirt with me goes a long way to bridge that gap with the entire team. Granted, his flirting is far more subtle.
Then again, there’s the chance that I’m imagining it because Iwanthim to flirt with me. Oof. Let’s not unpack that. Certainly not here and not now.
“I don’t necessarily plan to change up the starting positions,” I say. “You work well together. That’s not to say I won’t, but as of right now, I can’t see a person who’s going to managebetterthan what we have going.”
I’d worried about Denny, one of our starting wingmen. At the start of the year, his fiancée gave birth and died shortly after due to complications, leaving Denny as a single first-time father. It was touch and go for a while, but then his baby mama’s brother showed up, and, well, that’s a very interesting situation that I wasn’t expecting.
Anyway, Denny struggled for a bit, as to be expected when one’s life is turned upside down. But I think he’s become an even better man than he was before his life nearly imploded with change. He’s always been our power forward, but it feels as if there’s more fire under him now. He has a son who’ll look up to him, and I think he’s determined to make sure that baby has a damn good role model.
As Dasan and I continue to talk, we somehow migrate out of the corner I’d been lowkey hiding in. So much so that a beautiful woman approaches.
“Excuse me,” she says, and we face her, Dasan with his always-charming smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m wondering if you’d like to dance?”
“It’ll be my absolute pleasure,” Dasan says. He throws me a wink and takes the woman’s hand, leading her away.
I didn’t even know there was a dance floor. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I track their progress through the crowd, making my way along the side of the room until I can see the dance floor. When a server stops to offer me more champagne, I take one because I’m staring at my player and I need to be at least tipsy to justify the jealousy in my stomach.
I watch them as casually as I can through an entire song. They look good together. The way Dasan smiles, I can practically hear his flirty tone when they talk. Her admiration shines in her eyes as she stares at him, constantly dropping her face to hide her blush.
When they don’t leave the dance floor at the end of the song, I force myself to return to the corner I’d been in. I’m stopped along the way by someone who recognizes me as the coach for the Winnipeg Avalanche. It’s nice that there are some hockey fans at an event sponsored by the NHL. You’d think that would attract more hockey fans.
I’m relieved that this man doesn’t mention the weather. He talks about last season and the upcoming one. He gushes a little on my team, which I appreciate.
Then he spots someone else who will probably be far more engaging to talk to and excuses himself. I’m definitely not the best conversationalist. Dasan returns several minutes later, though I’m surprised he does, with two drinks in hand. He offers one to me then retakes his position at my side.
“What happened to the woman?” I ask.
He looks at me with amusement. “It was just a dance.”
“For several songs.” I wince at the words. Fuck’s sake. What’s wrong with me?
Dasan’s smirk says it all. I sound jealous. Yeah, dude, I heard the words. Thankfully, I’m saved from any further embarrassment when we’re called to the dining room for dinner. Dasan fucking pulls my chair out for me, which only makes me flush. However, I’m pleased as fuck, and relieved, if I’m being honest, when he sits beside me.
I hadn’t noted a posted menu for this event, and when the first round comes out, our plates are all different. I’m handed one with three mussels. My stomach rolls. Ew. Gross.
Dasan chuckles quietly. He removes two of the mussels and replaces them with little chicken dumplings from his plate.
