He wished, for the first time maybe, that theyweresomething more. Quinn found himself wanting to hold August’s hand, and even if they had to remain professional while surrounded by the public, no one would fault them for sharing a chaste kiss or two.
But instead, Quinn kept quiet and enjoyed August’s company, trying not to linger on thewhat-ifsso he could be in the moment.
Stop overthinking, Eren had told him.
Quinn scoffed.
Easier said than done.
When they were spotted by a small group of Toronto Sunburst fans, they shyly approached and asked August for an autograph. Quinn figured August would shoot them down because they technically cheered for an enemy team, but he was surprised when August accepted their marker and flashed them a cocky grin.
“You guys have anything of Jett’s for me to scribble on?” August asked. “Preferably something that says Fraser so I can take a picture and send it to him.”
This seemed to delight the cackling teenagers who were quick to produce items for him to sign. But August lit up when one of the boys showed him the jersey he was wearing under his jacket with the name Fraser and the number twenty-five on the back.
“Oh, he’s going to be so pissed.” August gleefully signed the jersey and then took his phone out so he could snap a picture while the teens laughed.
“Are you and Killinger friends?” another boy asked. “We see you and Jett chatting during your games, but it’s hard to tell if we’re not close enough to hear, you know?”
“You could say that,” said August. “But whodoesn’tlike dogs? Jett’s more shaggy poodle than human—especially when he grows out those ridiculous curls of his.”
That earned August another round of rowdy laughter and a few fist bumps, which left Quinn feeling lost because wasn’t August insulting their star player?
When everything was signed, the teens respectfully said their goodbyes and wished August good luck for the All-Star game tomorrow, and then they were alone again.
Quinn waited until they were walking before he spoke.
“For some reason, you’re more cheerful with fans than I expected you to be.”
August’s smile turned pinched, and Quinn responded by taking his wrist.
“It’s not that I didn’t think you were capable of being nice,” said Quinn. “It’s just—you can be standoffish when you want to be.”
August paused to remove Quinn’s grip from his wrist, only to relocate it to his hand. Quinn was so stunned by the move that he forgot about his earlier hesitation, and by the time he remembered, it was too late.
“I’m good with the kids,” said August. “I love kids, and when they’re young, they’re usually not scared of me.”
Quinn frowned as his brain filtered this new information. He never thought about how mentally taxing it would be to walk into a room and see happy expressions shift into terror or disbelief.
“Those guys were good,” August continued. “They were shy, but I knew they weren’t scared. I’ll be less of a dick if they’re not wetting themselves when they approach me. And doing things to piss off my friends is always fun, so I had ulterior motives.”
Quinn sensed that, but he was glad August hadn’t told the kids to fuck off.
“Does it bother you when strangers walk up to you like that?” Quinn asked, genuinely curious. He was so immersed in hockey now that he often forgot these guys were celebrities. “I don’t think I’d like being known toeveryone.”
“Um—” August dropped Quinn’s hand as if it had burned him. “Shit, okay. I’m sorry, I should have asked about that before I held yourhand. Don’t freak out, but photographers have been following us since the hotel. They’ve probably taken hundreds of pictures of us by now, so you may not be anonymous for long.”
Quinn spun around, and sure enough, two guys were doing a poor job of staying out of sight while they pointed cameras in their direction.
He blinked, slowly returning his gaze to August, who looked pale and panicked.
“Don’t you care that they’re taking pictures of us—together?” Quinn asked.
To the public eye, August was straight and one of Canada’s most sought-after bachelors. And while no one could give him a hard time about his sexuality in this day and age, Quinn suspected that he would prefer to have his private lifeprivate.
“I don’t give a fuck,” said August, and something in his eyes went…dark. “Let them see. Especially my mother.”
Quinn waited in shocked silence for further explanation, but when August failed to provide him with one, he dropped the subject and took August’s hand back.
