“Yeah. Tons of stuff on the Piranhas, especially.”
Lane swore Trevor shot Aidan a look full of expectation, like he was anticipating Aidan saying one thing, but the thing was, Laneknewhe wasn’t going to.
Crap.
It was clearly too much to hope for that his little side-hobby stayed under wraps.
“Huh, really?” Aidan’s glance over at him was a mixture of surprise and confusion.
Well, if Trevor had wanted to know one way or the other if Aidan knew about Lane’s film study, now he knew.
“Dude, I didn’t know you did that,” Levi said.
“Just a fun thing to do,” Lane said, shrugging.
He should’ve expected that nobody was going to leave it, but the rest of the period passed by without any more comments about Lane and what he was apparently spending his spare time doing.
He told himself it was better that Aidan think he was watching too much film than banging his rookie stepbrother, but it was difficult convincing himself of that particular fact.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed, necessarily, of either thing, more that he was certain nobody would really understand.
When the first period ended and Lane stood, saying he was going to grab another beer, asking if anyone else wanted anything, Aidan stood and said, “I’ll go with you.”
Lane braced himself for the interrogation, but to his surprise, Aidan didn’t say anything until they’d been standing in one of the ridiculously long lines and only after Lane had observed dryly that if they’d used their connections, they wouldn’t be dealing with any of this.
But Aidan didn’t say a word about that. Instead, he turned to Lane and said, “You’re watching film?”
“We all watch film,” Lane said lightly, hoping that Aidan would leave it there, while knowing he probably wouldn’t.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t sound like what Trevor’s talking about,” Aidan said.
And no, it really didn’t.
“Just something I do, once in awhile,” Lane said, shrugging.
They were nearly to the front of the line, and to Lane’s shock, Aidan actuallydropped it, asking Lane what he and Trevor wanted, and tapping his credit card there. Which, fair. Aidan made more money than all of them combined, probably.
He could easily afford to buy them all a beer, or ten.
“Wait a second,” the guy said as he set down the four Michelob Ultras onto the counter, “are youAidan Flynn?”
Lane groaned under his breath as Aidan nodded.
“Shit, shit, man. You’re my favorite QB,” the guy said.
“What? With you guys in New York? Don’t let Josh Allen hear you say that,” Aidan said, but he was already whipping out a Sharpie. Instead of getting back to their seats right before the puck drop in the second period, by the time they headed back towards the ice, it was almost five minutes in.
“You didn’t have to sign that guy’s shirt, too,” Lane complained.
“Why not?” Aidan said, shrugging, like he hadn’t practically made a second career out of being bitchy when he got recognized.
“Levi’s really mellowed you,” Lane said as they headed towards their entrance.
“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. Then shot Lane a sharp sideways look. “Kind of like how Trevor’s mellowing you?”
Lane nearly dropped the beers he was holding. “What?” he choked out.
Aidan shot him a knowing look. A sympathetic look, really. Which was even worse.
