Page 128 of Spiced!

“Tyler—” I started.

“I’ve also been working on some moves,” he said, thrusting his hips in ways that would get him arrested on most American streets.

“Tyler—” I tried again.

“I have a playlist.”

“You can’t perform at this event,” I said.

“I respectfully disagree.” He put both hands on the bar and leaned in. “I’m a professional athlete, have exceptional body awareness and above-average rhythm. My abs and ass are hot enough to make up for any moves I might miss. In a gay bar, that’s what matters, right? I’m so ready for this.”

“Skating is not dancing,” Jacks said from behind his hands.

“The fundamentals—”

“No,” Jacks said.

Tyler turned to Erik. “Back me up.”

Erik had been listening intently, his expression that of a mildly impressed boulder.

“I have seen you dance,” Erik said. “At Kowalski’s wedding and team Christmas party—and once in Carolina when you believed no one was filming.”

“And?” Tyler said.

“You should not perform. You dance like drunken flamingo, all legs and wings but catching no fish.”

“That’s . . . that’s not backing me up,” Tyler sputtered, then turned to Skyler, who was still staring at the ceiling.

“Sky, Cap, bro, help me out here.”

“I’m not part of this,” Skyler said to the ceiling. “Not even a little.”

“Your refusal is not accepted.” Tyler pouted.

“It doesn’t require your acceptance,” Skyler said mildly. “That’s what makes it a refusal.”

“He’s been married a year,” Tyler told the bar, “and now he talks like that.”

“Tyler,” Skyler said calmly. “What if instead of performing, you came as a fan? Loud, enthusiastic, fully yourself, but in the audience?”

“I could be as loud as I want?” Tyler asked.

“You’re always loud. That’s not a choice, but yes.” Skyler finally shifted his gaze from a tile to Tyler.

“Fine,” he said. “But the Speedo is still happening.”

“The Speedo,” I said, “is not happening.”

“The Speedo is a personal choice,” Tyler said. “Besides, it can be a big reveal. I’ll wear a trench coat and—”

“Oh, God, he wants to become a gay flasher,” Benji spat. “Please let him. My Insta will never be the same!”

“The Speedo,” Erik said quietly, “stays home.”

Tyler closed his mouth.

“Tyler,” Skyler said, drawing every baffled gaze away from the Swede. “You know what would actually be great? If we showed up Saturday and just supported Adrian. Just that. Showed up as the people who love this bar and cheered, like these people do for us at our games.”