Tough Guy (Game Changers)

by Rachel Reid

  “Trauma?” Fabian really had no idea. “I don’t know. I think he might have some self-esteem issues. Or, like, anxiety problems. He doesn’t exactly talk much, so it’s hard to say.”

  “Now I feel bad for talking about sex toys last night. Fuck, that was really insensitive of me.”

  Fabian frowned, remembering something. “No, I don’t think that bothered him. Maybe surprised him, but we talked a bit more about that stuff when we were walking to my place. And he told me before that he likes sex.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good, then. So he likes sex, he likes you, but he doesn’t like sex with you.”

  “Yes. Thank you for summarizing that.”

  She took a sip of latte, her face scrunched in concentration. “He’s scared,” she decided.

  “Scared? Of what? Me?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. He likes you, and he doesn’t want to ruin things.”

  Okay, that did actually make a lot of sense. The more Fabian thought about it, the more obvious it became. “I wouldn’t have pressured him into doing anything he’s not comfortable with.”

  “I know that. He doesn’t. Maybe he’s not comfortable with anything.”

  Fabian considered this. “So what should I do? Forget about him? I mean, it was stupid anyway, right?”

  She folded her arms. “You want me to tell you it’s stupid to like him?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Fabian, that guy is a fucking sweetheart. He’s the opposite of all those ding dongs you normally sleep with.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You should have seen him when you were on that stage last night. Heart eyes! He was besotted. I’ll bet he’s been pushing himself out of his comfort zone just so he can spend time with you.”

  What? Really? “We’ve only hung out like three times.”

  She held her hands up. “Look, again, I don’t know him. But if I had to guess, I would say hanging out with someone three times is a big fucking deal for that guy.”

  Fabian folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. “I’m such a fucking asshole.”

  “No, you’re a human being. A good one. And Ryan is too.”

  “What do I do now? I should just leave him alone, right? Forever?”

  “Would that make you happy?”

  Fabian didn’t even have to think about it. “No.”

  “Then reach out to him. Be chill about it, and don’t go so hard on yourself. He’s probably obsessing over everything he thinks he did wrong last night too. Trust me, I’ve been there. You know I have.”

  That was true. There had been more than a few times where their roles in this type of conversation were reversed. “So, what should I say?”

  Vanessa shook her head, and grabbed her bag from the back of her chair. “Uh-uh. I don’t get paid enough for that. If you can’t figure out basic conversation with the guy you’re doomed anyway.”

  “I bought you a latte,” Fabian pointed out feebly.

  “Bye! I love you. Text me later. Tell me how it goes.”

  She left before he could take up any more of her time, and Fabian pulled out his phone. He stared at Ryan’s name in his contacts for a long time.

  What exactly did Fabian want? He had happily gone more than thirteen years without having Ryan Price in his life, and he could go right back to being happy without him. These past couple of weeks could just be an awkward road bump, and Fabian could end it right now by deleting Ryan’s contact info. Because what was he honestly expecting to happen? That he and Ryan would start dating? That he would become the boyfriend of an NHL player?

  The thought made him want to erupt into giggles in the middle of the Starbucks. His parents would love that.

  Holy shit. His parents.

  What would they think if Fabian started dating not only a hockey player, but one who had lived with them? He was sure they would be shocked that Ryan was gay, for one. That definitely would not compute in their brains. For another, they might think that he and Fabian had fooled around as kids back then, under their roof. Maybe they would think Fabian had been secretly seducing all their precious hockey player boarders.

  Gross. As if.

  Or maybe they would like their son dating a hockey player. Maybe they might finally understand him if they all shared a common interest. Of sorts.

  Whoa. Fabian was getting way ahead of himself here. He needed to go back to seeing if Ryan even wanted to ever talk to him again, and not worry himself about bringing Ryan home to Mom and Dad.

  Okay. He could admit that he really didn’t want to delete Ryan’s info. The idea of never talking to him again was surprisingly painful. Even if Ryan never wanted anything beyond friendship, Fabian would take it. It probably was the best arrangement for them anyway.

  After an absurdly long time, Fabian typed out Hi and hit send.

  There. Perfect. Hi. Completely friendly and nonthreatening.

  * * *

  The game on Tuesday night had felt longer than normal, and it was likely because Ryan had barely slept the night before. He hadn’t been able to stop replaying everything that had happened between him and Fabian.

  He couldn’t stop feeling Fabian’s lips on his.

  He’d made the right decision, leaving. That was what he had determined after a night of agony. Fabian deserved so much better than him. He couldn’t explain why the two of them had such an easy, natural connection, but it didn’t matter. As far as he could tell, Fabian had an easy, natural connection with everyone, so it was really only Ryan who was benefiting here.

  He rolled these thoughts around as he took an unnecessarily long shower in the locker room after the game. Most of his teammates had been talking excitedly about Kent’s upcoming party, and Ryan hadn’t wanted to listen to any of it. He was more tempted than ever to just stay home on Friday night.

  At least he didn’t have to feel bad about not going dancing with Fabian that night anymore. Ryan had done an excellent job destroying any chance that Fabian would still want that to happen. It was back to life-as-usual for Ryan: hockey, therapy, reading, and, when he was feeling amorous, porn.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower room. The first person he saw was Anders Nilsson, who was stylishly dressed as always. Tonight he was wearing sleek, dark pants, a cobalt button-down shirt, and a crisp, brown trench coat. Did people iron their coats? Ryan wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t spot a wrinkle or flaw on any part of Nilsson’s outfit.

  Like Ryan, Nilsson had a full beard and he wore his hair a little long. Unlike Ryan, his hair and beard were neat and fashionable, making him look more like a suave European fashion model, and less like a man who had been lost at sea for a month.

  “What?”

  Ryan blinked. He had been staring at Anders. And now Anders was looking at him with irritation, and possibly disgust.

  “Sorry. Mind was wandering,” Ryan mumbled.

  Ryan hurried over to his stall and started to get dressed. He wondered where Nilsson got his hair cut. Should he ask? Ryan’s hair and beard situation was definitely out of control; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done more than give his beard a lazy at-home trim.

  He wasn’t the right guy for Fabian, but, fuck, maybe he could be the right guy for someone. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he’d given up completely on himself, but he missed thinking he might be somebody worth talking to. Worth touching.

  Ryan made a decision to look up barbershops in his neighborhood. Maybe he could get an appointment for tomorrow. He was sure it had everything to do with Fabian studying him so closely last night, but he was suddenly so embarrassed about his appearance that he needed to do something about it immediately.

  When he put on his coat, he pulled his phone out of the pocket. He’d had it turned off all day, because
he hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, and he hadn’t wanted to be tempted to text Fabian. But now he wanted to Google barbershops. When he turned the phone on, though, he saw a text message notification. From Fabian.

  Hi.

  “Hey Pricey.” Wyatt slid into the seat next to him. “What are you doing on Thursday?”

  “Playing a hockey game?”

  “I know. Before that, I mean.”

  “Uh.” Ryan glanced at his phone again. Hi. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Come to the center with me. We’re going to play floor hockey. Just for an hour or two in the afternoon, like after school. We’ll be out of there way before we have to be at the arena.”

  Ryan could hear Colleen screaming in his head. Say yes! He could picture his therapist’s approving smile. “Sure. All right.”

  “Awesome! I’ll pick you up around one. You’re going to love these kids.”

  Ryan did like kids. He still wasn’t sure why any kids would want to spend time with him, but he was certainly willing to help out a good cause any way he could.

  Wyatt gave him a friendly arm punch and left. Ryan turned his attention back to his phone. He noticed that Fabian’s message had been sent hours ago. Oh god, he probably thought Ryan was ignoring him.

  Finally, Ryan wrote back Hi.

  He waited a minute. When there was no reply, Ryan went back to his original plan of looking up barbershops in the Village. If he was going to hang out with kids, the least he could do was make himself look slightly less terrifying.

  * * *

  Talking to Vanessa and sending Ryan a text had cleared Fabian’s mind enough that he was able to devote himself to music for the rest of the day, and well into the evening. He resented the way his friends would accuse him of going into hermit mode when he was working on his music sometimes, but it was definitely common for him to lose many hours when he was in the zone.

  This time, when he finally snapped out of it, Fabian’s stomach was growling angrily. He picked up his phone and was surprised to see that it was nearly nine o’clock at night. There was no reply from Ryan.

  He cooked up some tortellini and jarred marinara sauce for his dinner. His eyes kept darting to his phone, waiting for a reply. None came.

  It wasn’t until midnight, when Fabian settled onto his bed with big plans to scroll Instagram for a while, that he saw the reply from Ryan.

  Hi.

  It had been sent over an hour ago. Oops.

  Fabian: Hi!

  Okay, so he wasn’t exactly advancing the plot, but he just needed to make an actual connection. He finally got one a moment later when Ryan wrote, Sorry. Had my phone off all day. Then a game at night.

  Game. Right. That’s the sort of thing Fabian could have looked up.

  Fabian: Did you win?

  Ryan: No.

  Fabian: Next time.

  Ryan: Yup.

  Fabian waited for dots to appear, but it seemed that Ryan was done talking. So Fabian wrote, I keep thinking about last night.

  He cringed. Was that maybe too honest?

  But Ryan wrote back, Me too.

  Fabian exhaled. Thank god. I don’t like how we left things.

  Ryan: Me neither.

  Fabian grinned. Can we get together sometime soon? I work tomorrow night.

  Ryan: I have a game the night after that. Busy both days too.

  Fabian: And the party is Friday, right?

  Ryan: Yeah. Yours too?

  Fabian hadn’t really expected Ryan to go out dancing with them on Friday night, but he hated knowing that he definitely wouldn’t make it. He would love to see what Ryan was like when he loosened up a little.

  Fabian: Yes. How about Saturday?

  Ryan: Ok.

  Fabian: LATE Saturday. I’ll be hungover.

  Ryan: haha ok.

  Fabian: Did you score any goals tonight?

  Ryan: No. That only happens when you’re watching.

  He added a winky face emoji, which Fabian found charming. He liked flirty Ryan and he wanted to see a lot more of him.

  Fabian: You’re just trying to get me to watch hockey. It won’t work.

  Ryan: I know.

  Fabian: Good night, Ryan Price.

  Ryan: Good night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Holy shit. Who the fuck are you?” Wyatt made a show of whipping off his sunglasses as Ryan climbed into the passenger seat of his Range Rover.

  “There’s no chance you’re not going to make a big deal about this, is there?” Ryan grumbled.

  “What? About the fact that you suddenly look like bearded Captain America instead of, like, the dad in How to Train Your Dragon?”

  Ryan rolled his eyes, but he secretly appreciated the ridiculous compliment. “I got a bit of a trim.”

  “That’s not a bit of a trim. That’s like a full-on reality show makeover. You could have warned me!”

  “It’s just a haircut. Drop it.”

  Wyatt looked like he had more to say, but he just put his sunglasses back on and pulled away from the curb. Ryan furtively glanced at his reflection in the side mirror and had to admit it: he looked good. The stylist, Guillaume, had talked to him extensively about the importance of product. The small-town boy in Ryan had suspected Guillaume of trying to sell him a bunch of expensive stuff he didn’t need, but the part of him who wanted to maybe present himself as a sophisticated, metropolitan man of style decided to take the stylist’s advice. All of it.

  And thus Ryan had spent more than he’d ever spent in his life on a haircut, and had left the salon with a bag full of hair and beard products. He’d even been talked into buying a new (absurdly priced) hairbrush because apparently there was a difference between hairbrushes. Guillaume did not like it when Ryan told him he usually bought brushes at the dollar store.

  So now Ryan had a tidy, lightly oiled beard that smelled like hazelnut, and hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back. His hair also had some fancy cream in it that actually made it look carefully styled rather than plopped on top of his head.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what Fabian would think.

  “You can’t stop looking at yourself,” Wyatt teased.

  Ryan jerked his gaze away from the mirror. “It’s just weird, is all. Not used to it yet.”

  “You got a man you can invite to Kent’s party tomorrow night?”

  Ryan nearly choked. “Would you invite a man to Kent’s party? If you were me?”

  Wyatt grinned. “If it makes Kent uncomfortable? Fuck yeah, I would.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair to your date, though,” Ryan pointed out. He would never use someone like that. And even if he had a boyfriend, he wouldn’t subject them to Dallas Kent’s birthday party. “I’ll be going alone. And leaving as soon as possible.”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  When they reached the community center, Wyatt hauled a duffle bag out of his trunk and carried it to the building. “Guardians swag,” he explained.

  They were greeted by an exhausted, and grateful-looking, woman who was about half Ryan’s height with glasses and graying brown hair.

  “Hi, Anne,” Wyatt said cheerfully. “They giving you hell?”

  “I’m just glad you guys are here.” She turned to Ryan and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Anne.”

  “With an E?” Ryan couldn’t help but ask. He’d maybe read Anne of Green Gables too many times.

  “With an E! That’s right!” She beamed at him.

  “I’m Ryan.” He released her hand and waited for instruction.

  “I need to make some calls, but you know where to go, Wyatt. It’s pretty much a full house today, so good luck.”

  “That’s okay, I brought reinforcement,” Wyatt joked, nodding at Ryan. “Let’s go meet the kids.”
r />   Wyatt led Ryan to a large gymnasium, which seemed to take up most of the building. There were some rough-looking basketball nets at either end, a couple of hockey nets at either end of the short side of the room. There were also about fifteen kids in the room, running in all directions and yelling. A couple of boys were kicking dodge balls as hard as they could without really paying attention to where they were going—or who or what they would hit. It was chaos.

  “Hey!” Wyatt yelled. “There are celebrities in the room, so look sharp!”

  One girl who looked about twelve scrunched up her face. “Celebrities?”

  Wyatt pretended to be affronted, which made her laugh. “Who knows who this guy is?” he asked.

  “That’s Ryan Price,” another girl said shyly.

  Wyatt pointed at her. “I knew you’d get it, Nicole. That’s right, this is Ryan Price. He plays for the Guardians with me.”

  “He doesn’t play with you,” one of the boys who had been kicking the dodge balls said with a grin. “He plays and you sit on the bench.”

  Ryan laughed. He liked these kids already.

  “Uh-huh,” Wyatt said flatly. “Well, get ready to be stonewalled by me today, Xander. I will not be going easy on you.”

  Wyatt very quickly split them into two seemingly random teams and asked one of the older girls to get the floor hockey gear out of a storage room. The gear was a bunch of sticks, a couple of soft rubber balls, and some surprisingly nice road hockey goalie gear. Ryan suspected that Wyatt was responsible for that donation.

  Wyatt put one of the sets of gear on, and the girl who had retrieved the equipment put the other set on. Ryan picked up one of the sticks, which were all way too short for him. He noticed there were no gloves. They should really have gloves. Maybe he could buy a bunch of gloves and donate them.

  “What team am I on?” Ryan asked.

  “Whatever team Xander isn’t on,” Wyatt said loudly. Xander booed.

  They played for about an hour, and Ryan loved every second of it. It took him back to being a kid himself and playing hockey for hours with the other Ross Harbour kids on the backyard rink his father had made. He’d loved the game so much then, and the force of how much that had changed hit Ryan hard as he joked around with these kids.