Game Changer

by Rachel Reid

  He finally settled on an outfit comprised of his darkest jeans, a dress shirt, a dark tie, and a V-neck sweater in deep plum. He snapped a quick photo of himself and sent it to Elena.

  Kip: This look ok?

  Elena: For what?

  Kip: Dinner with Scott!

  Elena: Where are you going?

  He told her the name of the restaurant.

  Elena: Oh yeah. You’re good.

  Kip nodded at his phone, relieved. Elena sent another message. You look hot, by the way.

  He smiled.

  This was going to be the best first date ever.

  * * *

  Scott sat alone at the cozy table for two in the dark corner of the restaurant and tried not to care if anyone was looking at him.

  Being alone in public often opened him up to being approached by strangers. He was fine with it most of the time, but tonight was for him and Kip, not for them. This restaurant was very exclusive, though, and Carter hadn’t been kidding about how dark and private the tables were. It was an ideal place for Scott to test the waters a bit. Had Carter invented the story of not being able to use the reservation himself? Maybe he had just booked this with Scott and Kip in mind in the first place. Scott appreciated the gesture, either way.

  He sipped some water and glanced again toward the front of the restaurant. Kip should be here any minute.

  Scott had spent an absurdly long time getting ready, as if this were a blind date and not dinner with the man he was madly in love with. The man he’d been sharing his life with for months. The man he hoped to share his life with forever.

  Finally, at just after seven-thirty, Kip was guided to the table by the maître d’.

  Scott’s heart did flips in his chest. Kip looked so handsome, and so happy to see him.

  “Hi,” Scott said, standing to give him a quick hug.

  “Hi. You’re wearing a suit! I knew I’d be underdressed...”

  “You look good,” Scott said, letting his eyes travel over him. “Perfect.”

  “If you say so,” Kip grumbled, sliding into the semicircular booth. Their thighs brushed together, but Scott refused to flinch.

  “This place is nice,” Kip observed.

  “Yeah, uh, Carter said it’s...romantic.”

  Kip smiled at him, and Scott blushed.

  “I’m just happy to be somewhere with you,” Kip said. “Wouldn’t matter where. But this is nice. Thank you.”

  “I’m a little worried that Carter might show up here,” Scott said. “I think he’s sort of keen to meet you.”

  “That’s sweet, right?”

  “Yeah. It is. I want to introduce you to everyone, but not tonight.”

  Kip tapped his foot against Scott’s. “Not tonight.”

  “Hey, um, do you want some wine? Or a drink? After tonight I’m abstaining from alcohol until after the finals, so...”

  “Is that your rule, or your coach’s?”

  “Coach’s. But I would have made the same rule for myself anyway.”

  “Tough but fair.”

  “Hey, some coaches make their players abstain from sex.”

  “Shit. You ever had a coach who did that?”

  “Yeah. Once.” Scott leaned in. “The hardest part for me was pretending it was difficult.”

  Kip laughed, but it sounded a little sad. Scott touched their knees together under the table and saw a heat in Kip’s eyes that drew him in automatically. He wanted to kiss him.

  “Any questions about the wine menu?” the sommelier said, interrupting the moment. Scott snapped backward, and immediately felt bad about it.

  He clumsily ordered some wine, with the assistance of the eager-to-please sommelier. People expected Scott to know about things like wine, or to at least be interested, because he had money. He didn’t care about it.

  He ordered a bottle of “The first thing you said. That one. Sounds good,” and the man left.

  “Sorry,” Scott said as soon as he was gone. “I know I kinda...jumped back, just then.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No—It’s—I didn’t mean to. I guess I’m not used to the idea of...”

  “Not expecting you to suddenly be comfortable with everything,” Kip said. “We’ll take it slow.”

  Scott smiled gratefully at him. Impulsively, he covered Kip’s hand with his own, on top of the table for anyone to see. Kip grinned and flipped his hand over, tangling their fingers together. It felt good. It was exhilarating, but it wasn’t scary.

  Kip squeezed his hand, then pulled his own away to pick up his menu. “So what’s good here?”

  “I have no idea,” Scott said. “I was checking out the menu a bit before you arrived. I understand about half of it.”

  “I’m only going to say this once, because I know it makes me sound like trash, but this place is fucking expensive.”

  “You know,” Scott said, “I still balk at prices like these. Even though I can easily afford them, I still instinctively look for the cheapest thing on the menu.”

  “There is no cheapest thing on this menu.”

  “Order whatever you want,” Scott said, “obviously. I think I’ll get the halibut because at least I know what that is.”

  “Jesus. Is it stuffed with hundred-dollar bills?”

  The wine arrived, and Kip was obviously trying not to laugh as Scott went through the charade of tasting it and pretending to know if it was any good. He nodded at the pleased sommelier and the man filled their glasses. He left, and their server came and they ordered, and then they were finally alone again.

  “Hey,” Kip said in a soft voice, raising his glass. “To whatever’s next.”

  “To whatever’s next.”

  They had a nice dinner. They drank wine and ate ornate plates of weird food that tasted fantastic. They talked and planned for the future. The wine made everything pleasantly fuzzy, and made Kip seem to glow in the romantic lighting of the restaurant.

  Between their main courses and dessert, Scott leaned in and said, “I love being here with you.”

  That slow, sexy smile that Scott loved unfurled across Kip’s face. “Me too, sweetheart.”

  “I want to take you everywhere. What you said about going dancing. At a club...”

  “We will. Anytime you want.”

  “Bet you look real good when you’re dancing.”

  Kip leaned closer. Scott could smell his aftershave. He wanted to bury his face in Kip’s neck.

  “I’d put on a real good show,” Kip drawled. “Everyone would be watching us. But it would all be for you. No one else.”

  Scott shifted in his seat. He felt warm. “Damn right,” he growled.

  Kip’s eyes widened. Scott had the dim thought that anyone who might be watching them would have no doubt that they were two men who were sexually interested in each other.

  Sexually obsessed with each other, really.

  Did he care anymore? God, he wanted to kiss Kip.

  “What are you thinking about right now?” Kip asked.

  Scott took the dare. “Kinda want to blow you under the table.”

  Kip smiled and bit his lip. It was the sexiest thing Scott had ever seen.

  “Well, that should get everyone’s attention,” he said, his eyes glittering with mischief.

  Where the fuck was that stupid dessert they’d ordered?

  “You’re a bad influence, Grady.”

  “Mm. Corrupting New York’s perfect boy.”

  “I was so sweet and innocent before I met you,” Scott smirked.

  “If they only knew what kind of filth falls from those pretty lips when you’re—”

  The server arrived with their desserts. Scott blushed and sat straight up, thanking him a little too forcefully when he set the plate down.

 
After the server left, Kip smiled and Scott shook his head and let out a shaky laugh.

  “This is the problem with taking you anywhere,” Scott said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about how you have exactly three minutes to eat that dessert because I am getting you back to my place as soon as fucking possible.”

  “What, no coffee?”

  “I’ll make you coffee in the goddamn morning.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kip bounced his way back to Scott’s (their?) apartment after his final shift at Straw+Berry. He tossed his strawberry baseball cap into a garbage can on the way.

  It would be a quick stop at home to change because he was heading out to meet Maria and Elena for a celebratory drink. But he wanted to see Scott first because tonight was game six of the finals, and there was every chance that the playoffs would end tonight with the Admirals winning the Cup. Kip would be at the game later, of course, but he was hoping to steal a quiet moment with Scott before what was sure to be a hectic and exciting evening.

  Scott had had a team meeting that morning, but he said he’d be home in the afternoon for a nap and to generally try to relax before the big game. The long flights and time zone differences between New York and Los Angeles had been adding to the stress of the series.

  In the apartment, Kip found Scott in bed.

  “Hey,” Scott said, hoisting himself up on an elbow. Messy hair, thick beard, muscles everywhere—Kip still couldn’t believe this was his boyfriend. “How was the last shift?”

  “Uneventful,” Kip said. “But I brought you something. For luck.”

  He held out a blue smoothie. The last one he would ever have to make.

  “Aww,” Scott said, reaching for it. “I hope the new staff can make them this good.”

  Kip feigned horror. “You would let another guy make you a smoothie?”

  Scott smiled around the straw. “I’d be thinking of you the whole time. I promise.”

  Kip kissed his hair. “I gotta head out in a minute. Maria and Elena are meeting me in, like, half an hour.” He pulled his grubby T-shirt off.

  “I guess I have to head to the rink soon anyway,” Scott sighed. “Are you guys gonna be talking about me?”

  “Definitely,” Kip said, as he pulled a fresh pair of jeans out of the dresser. “Maria has been calling this the Secret Meeting of the Society of People Who Know about Scott and Kip. I expect at least a hundred questions from her.”

  Scott chuckled and shook his head. “Not gonna be a secret much longer, I guess.”

  Kip pulled a clean T-shirt on, and walked over to the bed. He tilted Scott’s face up, and gave him a slow, adoring kiss that tasted like blueberries. “When you’re ready,” he said gently. “Even just having my parents and some of my friends knowing about us makes me feel a lot better. No rush for the rest of the world.”

  He turned to walk to the bathroom, but Scott grabbed his wrist. Kip turned back.

  “Thank you,” Scott said. His face and his tone were very serious. His eyes looked like they were trying to say more, and Kip wished they would because he had no idea why Scott was thanking him.

  “For what?”

  “Everything. I don’t know what will happen tonight—if we’ll win, or if I’ll be getting on a plane to L.A. right after the game—but I want you to know that I wouldn’t even be playing tonight if it wasn’t for you.”

  Kip’s brow furrowed. “Of course you would be. What do I have to do with—?”

  Scott shook his head. “I was miserable, Kip. I know my life seems pretty great—and it is, in a lot of ways—but I was so lonely. And it got harder every year. This season, before I met you, it was like...” He seemed to struggle for words. Kip took his hand and squeezed it.

  “It was like,” Scott continued, “I had lost my love of hockey. Like...the fire went out, y’know?”

  Kip sat on the bed beside him. “And you think you found it again...because of me?”

  “Yeah. I do. I hated myself for feeling so miserable because I had achieved my dreams and I have all this success and money and I live in this great city, but... I mean, nine seasons of coming home from road trips to no one. Of summers with no boyfriend to travel with, and no family to visit. Nine seasons of not having a date to team functions, or to the NHL Awards. Of not having someone I love in the crowd at games. It was weighing on me.”

  Kip’s heart broke a little. He hated thinking about Scott during those years.

  “I wish we had met nine years ago,” he said with a sad smile.

  Scott laughed softly. “Yeah, well... I probably wouldn’t have been ready, back then.”

  “If you want to play twenty more seasons,” Kip said, “I’ll greet you at home after every road trip. I’ll be in the crowd at as many games as I can get to. And I’ll be your date for anything you want to bring me to.”

  Scott smiled. “And the traveling in the summers?”

  “As long as I can help pay for it.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “You know, you could work on your stubbornness about letting me pay for things.”

  Kip kissed him. “I know. I’ll try to relax about it. I promise. I’ve agreed to live with you, haven’t I? That’s progress!”

  Scott kissed his nose. “It is. Now go meet your friends.”

  “Okay. Go win the Stanley Cup.”

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  “So,” Maria said, as soon as their server had delivered their micheladas, “what should we talk about? Oh! I know! How about we talk about how your boyfriend is playing in the Stanley Cup finals tonight!”

  Kip shook his head, but he couldn’t keep himself from grinning. “I guess that’s interesting,” he said mildly.

  “It’s going good with him, right? You’re still totally in love with each other? You can’t screw this up, Kip!”

  “It’s going good! We are totally in love. I won’t screw it up. Again.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed a tortilla chip at him menacingly. “You’d better not. I’m living vicariously through you.”

  “Oh god. Don’t say that.”

  Kip glanced at his phone. Elena had texted twenty minutes ago to say she’d be a little late. He had no choice but to sit there and face the onslaught of Maria’s questions.

  “What’s his house like? Is it enormous? Does it have, like, twelve bathrooms?”

  “It’s a penthouse, and it has three bathrooms.”

  She groaned. “You’re so lucky. When are you moving in?”

  “Well, now, I guess. I mean, I still have a couple of boxes of random things at my parents’ house to move over, but I live with Scott full-time now.”

  She shook her head, looking bewildered. “You say Scott and I can’t believe you mean...” She glanced around, and whispered, “Scott Hunter. Like, you just call him Scott, as if he’s a normal person!”

  “He is a normal person. He just happens to be very good at playing hockey.”

  “And he just happens to be a gorgeous babe.”

  “Yes. That too.”

  “Is he a good kisser? Just tell me that he’s a good kisser.”

  Kip rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. Where is Elena?”

  “Does anyone else know?” Maria asked. “Have you told Shawn?”

  “No.” He stirred the salsa absently with a tortilla chip. He felt bad about lying to Shawn, but, “Shawn is a gossip and having to keep this secret might actually kill him. It’s kinder not to tell him.”

  At least, that was what Kip told himself. He hoped Shawn wouldn’t hate him once he found out.

  “Okay, so, scale of one to ten...”

  “No.”

  “One being the worst kisser in the world, aka my prom date—”

  “No.”
>
  “And ten being, like, that Brokeback Mountain kiss where Heath Ledger broke Jack Gyllenhaal’s nose by kissing him so hard...”

  “What? Is that a good kiss?”

  “Yes. So where does your boy land on that scale?”

  “Um, better than a kiss where my nose gets broken?”

  “So an eleven? Fuck, I knew it.”

  Kip laughed. “He’s a good kisser, all right? Stop being weird.”

  “Who’s a good kisser?” Elena had finally decided to show up.

  “Kip’s perfect boyfriend,” Maria grumbled.

  “Oh, he’s not perfect,” Elena said cheerfully, taking the empty seat. “His jaw is too chiseled.”

  “Mm,” Kip said. “And he’s way too tall.”

  “And broad,” Elena added.

  “And his thighs are way too thick,” Kip pointed out.

  “Just terrible,” she agreed.

  “You guys are assholes,” Maria said. “Let me know if any of his teammates are looking for an adorable Latina to take care of.”

  Kip snorted. “Adorable?”

  “Tell them adorable. By the time they realize I’m a total grouch they will already be in love with me and it will be too late.”

  They all laughed.

  The three of them spent a few hours eating Mexican food and drinking (but not too much because Kip didn’t want to be drunk for the game). They talked about Elena moving to California, and Maria’s new job, and about Kip’s new job, and about Kip going back to school. He felt good. For the first time in years, he felt confident about his future. His life was more or less on track, even without the perfect dream boyfriend.

  But he did have the perfect dream boyfriend. And more than that, he was in love, and no matter how he imagined his future now, it always included Scott.

  “We should go,” Elena said, tapping him on the arm. “We need to go see the man you’re obviously daydreaming about play hockey.”

  “I wasn’t—Okay. Yes, I was.” He turned to Maria. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get a third ticket, but this game is super sold out.”

  “Yeah, no shit. The tickets are going for, like, five thousand dollars online,” Maria said.

  “I’ll text you a selfie from the game, all right?”