“Hell yeah. Those are sick.” Nick always loves hearing something unexpected out of his favorite artists. The petty part of him also loves it when someone who usually autotunes proves they can’t hold a note without it.
“Well, it’s, uh, that.” Matt’s lips curl in the corners, a pleased little grin breaking free.
“Dude, that’s awesome! When?” Marco exclaims.
“March 18th,” Spencer supplies, fist-bumping him. “It’s gonna be awesome. You’d better tune in.” Then he shoots Nick a wink, smirking conspiratorially. Nick blinks—what the hell was that for?
Before he can spend long puzzling that over, Jessie the waitress returns to take their orders, flirting heavily with Nick while she does so, and just as she’s leaving, the trio of latecomers shows up.
“Sorry, sorry!” Sunny says, when Moose boos him for being late. “Our Uber got stuck in tourist traffic.”
“First round’s on Sunny!” Hugsy announces, laughing as he stands to greet them. Nick hops to his feet as well.
“Glad you guys could make it,” he says, like he didn’t have a small meltdown over just that. “Mars, you are rocking thatjumpsuit. It’s gorgeous.” It’s a red sequined sleeveless jumpsuit with wide-legged pants that sweep the floor, and with her hair up like that she looks like a model.
Wait a minute.
“Holy shit! You cut your hair.” Upon closer inspection, it’s not tied up—she’s chopped it all off, down to a cute little pixie cut, shaved short on the sides and slightly curly on top. “I love it.”
Marlowe beams at him and hugs him round the neck. “Thanks! I wasn’t sure at first but the more I look at it the more I’m into it.”
“It looks rad as hell,” Sunny says, beaming. Nick feels a presence at his shoulder, in time to see Casey squeeze her way in beside him.
“It super does. Your bone structure is beautiful. Hi, I’m Casey.”
“Oh, you’re—I mean, you’re in the band!” Marlowe exclaims, though she looks stunned, gripping tight to Sunny’s hand, eyes wide and face pale as she looks at Casey. Nick, by now familiar with what that kind of look means, braces himself for the worst.
But Marlowe just blinks, then beams. “I heard you on the radio the other day. It was great! That one song that’s about, like, how social media and the marketing algorithm has ruined the way we enjoy things.”
“‘Algorhythmic,’” Casey offers, and Mars nods eagerly, waving a hand.
“Yeah, that one! I liked it a lot.” Then she blinks, flushing pink. “Oh! I’m Marlowe. You can call me Mars. This is my boyfriend Sunny, and this is Beau.”
Cheers go up as a pair of waitresses arrive with an impressive array of drinks, and Nick quickly loses track entirely of who’s been introduced to whom. He sips at his beer and tries not to let the thudding of his pulse in his ears get to him, watching histwo worlds collide in a way he was absolutely not prepared for when he got up this morning. Thankfully, it’s going well; they’re talking hockey, and music, and everyone’s being chill, and no one’s questioned the true nature of Nick’s relationship with Matt or said anything offensive.
Not that he really expected that, out of these guys. It’s other members of the team he’s less sure about.
Matt’s standing off to the side, holding a soda and watching the NHL scores come up on the TV. Nick sidles over to join him. “Hey,” he says, bumping their shoulders together. He wants to kiss Matt so badly—he’s wearing the blood-red leather jacket that’s one of Nick’s favorites, and when the light hits in just the right way Nick realizes there’s the faint outline of a hickey half-hidden by the collar of his shirt.Oops.
“Hey, you.” Matt’s eyes crinkle at the corners with affection. Nick’s heart melts. “I was just about to go to the bathroom, actually. Mind showing me where it is?”
Nick snorts. “How the tables have turned.”
Setting their drinks aside, he leads the way out the side door—one of the benefits of a private room is access to the VIP bathrooms. “How you doing?” He links his pinky finger with Matt’s, the most he dares to do in a semi-public corridor.
“Pretty good, actually. You’ve got some really great teammates. Moose is a riot.”
“Yeah, he’s quicker on the draw than people give him credit for.” Because he’s six foot six and built like a tank, people expect Moose to be some big dumb jock stereotype, but in the last season and a half of skating with him Nick’s discovered the guy’s incredibly sharp sense of humor. “Looked like him and Case were hitting it off.”
“I think she intimidates the shit out of him,” Matt says, “but I think he kinda likes it?” He raises his eyebrows playfully,nudging the men’s room door open. “You gonna get jealous if your teammate steals your favorite band?”
“As long as it’s not my favorite bandmember,” Nick retorts. Once they’re safe in the relative privacy of the bathroom, he leans in for a slow, lazy kiss. “Sorry my guys kinda crashed our evening.”
“Don’t be. They’re fun. And you didn’t see Joel trying not to have a fanboy freakout over meeting Hugsy—he fuckingidolizesthat guy.”
“Really?” It’s funny; Nick always forgets that his teammates are the kind of hockey players people idolize. Not that they don’t deserve it—they’re incredible players—but to him they’re justthe guys.
“He might actually kiss you for introducing him,” Matt informs him, smirking.
