“Packy’s right,” Nix said. “We want to share the joy of hockey with everyone, especially kids.” After a round of applause, he continued. “This means not only having more teams, but raising money. Last year, thirty-six percent of kids under twelve who wanted to play hockey couldn’t because the fees, gear, and travel costs were too high for their families to afford. We want to change that.”
Next up was a young woman in a Condors jersey, smiling nervously. “Nico, what’s it like working so closely with… you know… your enemy? If Packy really is that.”
Laughter spread through the room as Nico leaned toward his mic. “Packy’s a former, temporary enemy. We’ve been friends a long time.”
More laughter followed, and he pointed at me.
I forced a grin. “Long, complicated story. Short version? He drives me crazy, but I like him anyway.”
His smile made me feel warm all over.
The woman practically bounced with excitement. “So… enemies to friends? Or maybe…”
The room responded with an “ooh” like a sitcom audience.
A young guy in a polo shirt went next. “This question’s for both of you. You seem… um… really comfortable together.” He looked around the room. “We can all see it, right?”
A round of cheers showed what the crowd thought.
The guy went on. “We see viral videos of you everywhere, and just as many photos. Let’s say the chemistry is obvious.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Has all the fan speculation affected your relationship?”
Nix didn’t hesitate. “Packy and I are professionals, and we take our work seriously. Everything else is only background noise.”
I nodded. “Fans are passionate and like to joke around. We get it.”
“But to clarify,” the guy said, “are you two?—”
Nix interrupted. “We’re here to support the league’s initiative and San Francisco’s bid for a franchise.”
The woman in blue pointed at the next person in line. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know what to make of it all. Hell, I wondered whatNixthought. Under the table, he touched my ankle with his. It helped a little, but the room still felt too close.
For the next hour, most of the questions were simple, mostly hockey stuff. I’d always wanted to try being a goalie, and Nix started as a defenseman when he was a kid. My favorite color was blue, his was teal. When someone asked about ideal vacation spots, we both said “the Caribbean” at the same time, which made everybody laugh again.
Reporters asked about playoff predictions. I was finally starting to relax when the moderator in purple said there was time for one last question.
A middle-aged man in a wrinkled blazer took the mic and introduced himself as a reporter for theSan Francisco Chronicle.
“We’ve been avoiding the elephant in the room,” he said, “I want to ask a direct question and get a straight answer.”
Shit.
“There’s one thing fans want to know more than anything else. Packy, there’s a lot of speculation that you and Nico aren’t just working together, that there’s something romantic going on.” He paused, and the room was completely silent for the first time all day. “So, my question is, are you two dating? Or planning to? And if not, how do you respond to the public perception that you’re a couple?”
The room buzzed as phones rose high in the air and people leaned forward. My mouth went dry. Under the table, Nix’s foot tapped mine. When I looked over, he raised an eyebrow. I forced a smile and looked at the reporter.
“Nico and I are close. Good friends. It’s the middle of the season, so right now, we’re focused on hockey and our work with the league.”
Nix nodded. “Thanks for the support, but we’re here to work. Some questions are too personal, so we won’t be answering them.”
The crowd reacted with a mix of uneasy chuckles and disappointed sighs. The woman in purple rushed to the mic.
“That’s all the time we have for questions,” she said. “Packy and Nico will be walking around to meet you all, so please make San Francisco proud. Thank you for joining us today.”
Nix and I posed together for the cameras. When he looked at me, he’d pulled his eyebrows tight. I nodded too quickly, and we both knew it.
We stayed close as we worked the room. My hands wouldn’t stop flexing at my sides because one wrong answer would have given it all away. Thankfully, most people seemed to understand the subject was off-limits. By the time we escaped, an ache was crawling up the back of my neck.
We pressed the backs of our hands together in the elevator, but stayed quiet until we were back in my room. With the door closed behind us, Nix sat on the bed, rubbing his face. “Well, that was an experience.”
