“Are you going to be able to play again?”
He tenses.
“The doctor indicated he would,” I say.
“And who are you?” one paparazzo asks me.
“No comment.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Florian says.
The paparazzi look delighted.
The cameras flash brighter. My stomach drops to somewhere below the wheelchair.
Shit.
I should have anticipated this. Florian just outed himself, and given his behavior since arriving at the Blizzards, he absolutely didn’t want to do this.
But how can I explain things now?
“He’s going to take me home and look after me,” Florian says. “I’ll be healed and playing back with the Blizzards soon.”
Where is that rideshare I ordered? Thankfully, Daniela gave me Florian’s address when I asked for it, and more fortunately, she didn’t ask why I didn’t want to ask Florian the question.
The rideshare SUV finally pulls up, and I usher Florian into the car.
His father, mother, and sister load their luggage into the trunk, then follow us inside.
I am surrounded by Germans.
Florian glances at me, then squeezes my hand.
The SUV zooms forward, taking us to a place I’ve never been to.
Florian gazes up at the skyscrapers in awe, like he’s just arrived in Boston, which I suppose in a way he has.
His family murmurs in the seat behind us. I wonder if his sister is saying she thinks Florian and I are not a couple.
Will they confront me? What would Florian do if that were to happen?
The point of all of this was to make things less traumatic for him, but there is no way to unravel this without hurting him more.
My phone pings.
GINA: Why did the hockey player you hate just tell reporters that you two are together? Have you been holding out on me????
MATEO: It’s complicated.
GINA: OMG! You’re sleeping with him!!!! You bad, bad boy!
MATEO: That’s not what ‘it’s complicated’ means!
GINA: Come on. Everyone knows that means you’re sleeping together.
MATEO: Well, this is actually complicated. Let’s talk later. We’re going to his apartment now.
GINA: OMG!!!
