“Speak for yourself, man,” Spencer cuts in.
“But,” Matt continues, “we’d all be happy to take pictures, if you want.”
Marco looks like his birthday has come early, so Nick happily plays photographer a little longer, filling his camera roll with something other than his cat for once.
“How about you, captain?” Matt says after a while, eyes meeting Nick’s. “You want in on this?”
Nick has to bite his tongue on the first three responses that jump to mind.
“Sure thing.” He pockets his phone and tries not to grin like an idiot when the space that opens up for him is between Matt and Marco. Matt’s long arm falls comfortably over his shoulders, fingers curling ever so slightly around his bicep. Through his shirt, Nick’s skin burns.
“Smile, everybody!” Kat warns, stepping up with her Dragons-branded phone. Nick forces himself to pay full attention to the camera—anything to stop himself from zeroing in on the weight of Matt pressing into his side. He smells kind of citrusy, almost floral, and Nick really needs to notsniffthe guy. Jesus Christ, why can’t he be normal? He meets hot guys all the time. This one isn’t any different.
Except heis. Ugh.
Nick tries not to sigh when Kat declares the photos acceptable and Matt steps away. Thankfully, he doesn’t go far.
“So it looks like you guys are off to a pretty strong start this season, huh?” he says, looking at Nick as he talks. “It was a bold move picking a goalie that early in the draft but I gotta say, if his stats from last season are anything to go by, Picard might be a real game-changer by playoffs. And that new kid on your line, Ohlson, he’s got some serious wheels on him!” He smirks, gaze trailing pointedly over Nick. “I guess he’d have to, to keep up with Mr. All-Star Fastest Skater over here.”
Now, Nick tries not to stereotype. He knows better than anyone how looks can be deceiving; he’s survived five years in the NHL as a closeted gay man, after all.
But he did not expect actual hockey knowledge and analysis to come out of some pretty-eyed emo boy. What thefuck.
“Shit, you like,actuallyfollow hockey,” he blurts, regretting the words almost immediately. Thankfully, Matt doesn’t seem offended. His bandmates laugh, and he just chuckles and shrugs.
“We all used to play in college,” he explains. “We were teammates before we were a band. Go Wolverines.” He raises his fist in a mock cheer.
Well, damn. Michigan are Division 1 for hockey, and agoodD1 at that. The upper draft rounds are littered with Wolverines, most years.
Then the rest of Matt’s words register, and Nick’s gaze goes unthinkingly to Casey—she’s looking at him, expecting it, one dark eyebrow slightly raised. Daring him to comment.
Oh.
Wow.
Marco doesn’t seem surprised by this information. Is that what the headlines Nick had seen floating around Twitter were about? That’s brave ashell.
God, these guys are cool. Maybe Nick should’ve listened when Marco told him to check out their music.
“That’s awesome,” he says, after a silence that stretches just a little too long. He feels like an idiot, the only one in the room blindsided by this, wondering how to show that he’s cool with it without looking like he’s trying too hard to seem chill. “What year did you graduate? Didn’t Michigan win a championship a couple years back?”
“That was after we left,” Spencer says, a little rueful, still watching Nick warily. “We were class of 2018. They won in 2020.”
“Not that we’re bitter or anything,” Casey adds.
“I mean y’all had two albums out by then—I’d say you weren’t doing too badly,” Marco points out.
“Says the guy with two Stanley Cup rings by 2020,” Spencer says. Then a wicked smirk takes over his face, his lip ring catching between his teeth. “Race you to number three?”
“Wow, okay, that is not a challenge you need to make where Lord Stanley can hear you,” Nick scolds, glancing out towards the ice in the direction of their championship banners, as if the cup embroidered on them could somehowtell.
“Oh, I see, you’rethatkind of hockey player.” Matt’s words sound like a taunt, and Nick bristles.
“What kind is that?”
“The superstitious kind. That’s adorable.”
Nick’s tongue is suddenly far too big for his mouth; an offended noise is all he can manage, and Matt laughs.
