Quinn’s gaze landed on Niko first, who was sitting on the large section that was big enough to fit an army of puckheads. Beside him was a curly redheaded man who Quinn recognized as the Bigfoot’s goalie, Haas—or Sauce as Eren called him.
He did his best to put faces to names that he had heard over the past few months, but he seriously didn’t knowanyof them. Quinn could never keep hockey information straight because the players were referred to by several different names, and sometimes only their jersey numbers.
Quinn was a nerd and an artist; his brain wasn’t equipped to memorize stats and facts about five hundred different men, who he rarely saw with their helmets off.
“Quinn, over here,” said Niko, raising a hand in greeting. “Max is normal—come sit beside him.”
Quinn looked at the freckled brunette sitting on Niko’s other side, who was wearing Naruto pyjama pants and had the cutest bedhead going on. The younger man appeared half-asleep, but he perked up when Quinn approached and waved excitedly.
“Everyone says you’re an artist,” said Max.
Quinn didn’t have time to sit before Max began digging into the bag at his feet and pulled out a sketchbook.
“I want to be a comic artist, but I need opinions. Think you can lend me your eyes?” Max asked, wiggling closer to Quinn and blinking at him with bright green eyes.
Quinn was distracted by their colour, which were the same green as his, but lacking the yellow halo of Quinn’s heterochromic eyes. Green eyes were supposed to be rare, but there were three people sitting on the sectional who had them, with Niko being the third.
“I paint more than I draw,” said Quinn. “But I never turn down a chance to look at another artist’s work.
He opened the sketchbook and browsed the pages, surprised by the talent he saw in the simple lines and popping colours. Max was not an amateur, and Quinn had read enough comic books to safely say the kid would have no trouble breaking into the industry.
“I know they’re good,” Max whispered. “Niko and I called you over so you wouldn’t get eaten by the sharks.”
Quinn looked up from the sketchbook, noting how many people were glancing at him while they carried on conversations.
“Fucking sharks,” Max concluded. “This sectional is the island of sanity. Only the smart ones are allowed to sit.”
Quinn chuckled and met Niko’s eyes over Max’s head, smiling at how unimpressed the grumpy hockey player appeared.
“Would you mind naming a few of the sharks?” Quinn asked Max. “Hockey players are—”
“Gross, I know,” said Max.
That’s not what Quinn was going to say, but he would take it.
“The blond idiot with the same green eyes as me is my older brother, Ryan Bracken, who’s the captain of the Toronto Sunbursts.”
Quinn took out his phone and jotted down the information because there was no way he was letting this opportunity pass him by.
“And who’s his boyfriend?” Quinn asked, mentally taking a picture of how cute the couple were as they sat snuggled together. Ryan was curled around the shorter blond, shooting glances at Quinn and laughing as he whispered into his boyfriend’s ear.
Niko made a strangled sound, and Max sighed in exasperation.
“They’re not boyfriends, they’re just idiots,” said Max. The dumber-looking blond is Jason Powers, the Sunburst’s goalie and Ryan’s best friend.”
Quinn knew he was being rude by staring at them, but it was hard to look away after Max’s jaw-dropping reveal. He didn’t know how theyweren’tboyfriends. Ryan was holding Jason tightly in his arms, his lips coming close enough to graze Jason’s ear as he spoke into it.
Max wasn’t speaking quietly enough for Ryan and Jason to miss what he was saying, but they waved at Quinn with big smiles, unfazed by the scrutiny they were under.
“We’re straight,” Ryan said, like confirming it would somehow make things less suspicious.
Quinn was all for men who were secure in their sexuality, but those two were crossing every wire he had.
“Told you,” August said as he dropped onto the couch beside Quinn and handed him a plate of creamy chicken alfredo. “Fucking weird, right?”
Ryan flipped him off, and Jason stuck out his tongue, and even that seemed a little too in sync for Quinn to shake the mental assumptions he was making.
Max took advantage of his stunned silence to tell Quinn about the other guys in the room while he ate. Arlo Killinger, alternate captain of theMontreal Basiliques and Harrison Killinger’s brother. Harrison Killinger, who was an assistant coach for the Toronto Sunbursts and Jett’s husband. Quinn recognized Su-jin Park, alternate captain of the Ottawa Conclaves because of his light pink hair. And Detlef Wolf, who was a defenceman on the Sunburst team—straight, but also might be bicurious because he had his dick sucked by Arlo once.
