“Look, okay”—Nick finally finds his words—“there’s a whole lot more chance involved in us winning a cup than you making a new album. I just don’t wanna tempt fate, y’know?”
“Adorable,” Matt repeats, those brown eyes sparkling. Nick hates the heat that trickles down his spine. It takes an absurd amount of effort not to sway closer to Matt’s frame, his chin tilting up that little bit further to look the taller man in the eye.
Thankfully, there’s a gentle interruption from Kat bringing out the merch to be signed, including Marco’s precious vinyl, and offering an array of Sharpies. Nick takes the opportunity to catch his breath and get a hold of himself: he is twenty-three, he can keep it cool in front of a beautiful man.
“You don’t have anything for us to sign, cap?” Matt’s voice cuts him out of his internal pep-talk. The man has a Sharpie held in long fingers, and he wiggles it invitingly.
“Oh, I, uh… I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t actually really listened to your music. Sorry.” He gives a sheepish shrug. “I’m sure it’s great. I’m just more of a Top 40 kind of guy.”
“Wow,ouch.” Matt reels back with a hand to the heart. “I’ll have you know our last single hit number 52 on Billboard.”
“He means Top 40 from like, 2003,” Marco corrects, because he’s the worst.
“2003 was an excellent year for pop music!” Like Marco hasanyroom to talk—his list of favorite bands reads like the line-up of Warped Tour 2006.
“If I had a Wolverines hat on me, I’d sign that for you instead. Maybe that would be more your speed.” Matt winks at him, and Nick’s heart flutters.
They chat for a little longer while Nick and Marco sign jerseys and pennants and pucks. It’s mostly Marco talking about music while Nick tries to pretend he’s following, and when someone mentions that they should probably be making a move, Nick doesn’t know whether to be sad or relieved about it. He’s probably done embarrassing himself in front of the hot rockstar, now, yeah.
Thankfully, Nick manages to get through goodbyes without doing or saying anything weird—they all shake hands again, and he tries not to stare too intensely into Matt’s eyes as he thanks him for coming—and at last he and Marco are on their way down to a probably deserted locker room to grab their stuff and head home.
“Man, that was so cool,” Marco whispers, awed. He’s holding the signed vinyl like it’s made of glass, and if Nick wasn’t still trying to get his shit together he’d chirp the crap out of him for it.
“Yeah they, uh, seemed like pretty good guys.” Thank God Marco was too busy being starstruck to notice Nick’s sad gay yearning.
“Wouldn’t it be wild if they came to more games? Like, now they’ve moved to Vegas and all?”
Nick swallows hard. “That would be something, yeah.”
He’s just not sure it would be something he couldsurvive.
Chapter Three
LAPORTE SCORES TWICE IN FIRST NHL GAME
Connor LaPorte—son of four-time Stanley Cup Champion George LaPorte—is a name that should have become a staple in all hockey households. But after dropping out of the QMJHL weeks before his team would reach the Memorial Cup final, taking a no-show on the 2017 Entry Draft, it seemed the dream was dead for the young star—a feeling that was cemented when, following months of radio silence and media speculation, LaPorte appeared on the roster of Swiss National League team Fribourg HC, where he remained until this summer.
However, he’s now back on Canadian soil, and the years have not dulled LaPorte’s edge in any way! The 24-year-old centerman scored an impressive two goals last night in his first game for the Quebec Orignaux.
No one knows why he finally decided to return, and he doesn’t seem willing to enlighten us. That has not stopped speculation—many believe it to be bad blood with ex-teammate Nick Tiernan, who has been notably silent on the subject.
All eyes are keen to see this pair of young stars face off against each other in their first game, scheduled for December 5th.
Nick Tiernan had better watch out; there’s a new name coming for his crown!
—HockeyTalk, October 8th, 2022
Things between Nick and Connor have always been complicated.
Connor didn’t like him at first. Nick was a mouthy little shit at fifteen, all of five foot six and desperate to prove that he deserved to be on that ice a year early. Connor was hockey royalty—tall and quiet with an attitude like no one was worth his time. An attitude Nick would later learn was actually just disguising his constant, crippling anxiety. Nick’s French was terrible and Connor refused to speak to him in English, despite being fluent, but thesecondthey were put on the same line…
Magic.
The pair of them connected on-ice like nothing Nick had ever experienced in his young life, and it showed in their stats. It was only a matter of time before that connection became off-ice too. Within two weeks they were practically inseparable, a matched pair on and off the rink. Nick was in love before he even knew how to stop it.
Connor was hiseverything. His best friend, his linemate, his captain, his billet brother. And then one night, buzzed on cheap beer and a 7–0 victory, things changed. A shy kiss in the dark of a teammate’s back yard; a bolder kiss in their shared bedroom when they got home.
It was beautiful, at first. Everything Nick had dreamed of. He could see his future stretched out in front of him, Connor at his side, and he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything.
