Page 102 of Gross Misconduct

“So you’re dating Jack Gross?” Hank asks. “Like dating, dating?”

“We haven’t defined it, but we are together, yes.” I don’t need labels. Jack Gross is staying in my life for a long-ass time. As long as I get to wrap my arms around him on a daily basis, people can call it what they want.

“Have you been slipping him secrets about our team?” Bill asks. Even with a big victory, he can’t get into full celebratory mode.

“No. The opposite. He was the one who remarked on Hank’s positioning outside the net.”

Hank sits up straighter. “Shit. In that case, I should be the one making out with him.”

“I’ll handle that,” I tell him. Those lips are mine and mine alone.

“So since you guys are together, that means you’ve been able to finally pop your gay cherry, I hope.” Des drinks the last of his martini. While he usually dresses much nicer, we finally wore him down and got him to come to the bar in a matching Comebacks hoodie. But he’s still wearing fancy sneakers that probably cost a fortune.

I find myself blushing. “None of your business.”

“All the blush on your face tells me that’s a resounding yes.” Des claps me on the shoulder and bites the olive off its toothpick. “You should’ve come out sooner.”

“Everyone is on their own journey,” Tanner says.

“Exactly. Derek found love with his real estate agent. Bill found it through banging his assistant.” Des snorts a laugh.

“Bill’s banging his assistant?” Tate walks up behind us and puts his arms around his boyfriend. “Mavis? The kindly grandmother? Didn’t think she was your type.”

Where Bill is beefy, Tate is slender with a boyish smile and big eyes.

“Des has a preoccupation with how we got together,” Bill says, kissing Tate hello.

“Does he want to see video?” Tate arches his eyebrow Des’s way.

“I just love how much of a cliché it is. It’s sweet.” Des chuckles nervously.

Tate leans in, a gleefully dark smile on his lips. “Oh, Des. It was anything but sweet. It was raw, and hot, and epic. You would melt into your martini if you ever knew what happened on that snowy night in Chicago.”

Fuck. We sit around the table stunned into silence, mouths agape. The world around us pauses. Bill’s face is bright red, while Tate remains composed. He stands back up; the world presses play again.

“Great game, guys! I’m going to grab a drink.” Tate rubs Bill’s head and is off to the bar.

“I need to find an assistant like that,” Hank says.

* * *

A little bit later,we haven’t moved from our seats. We feel like kings, people continuing to come up to congratulate us.

“Crap. I need to check in with the babysitter.” Tanner checks his watch.

“Chancey, you’re too nice. You’re not with the kiddos. You’re allowed to say fuck.” Des barks out a laugh. “Can you please use some type of profanity? Please? Early birthday gift.”

“Buzz off.” Tanner winks at him.

“You two…that cross-crease pass to goal in the first period was a thing of beauty,” I say. They never lost their mojo. They always had it.

“We make a good team.” Des says. He and Tanner bump fists. “Who wants to play Jenga? I gotta move. Gin martinis make me a little hyper. Chancey?”

Tanner holds up his phone.

“Chancey.” Des pets his hand. He might be more than a little buzzed. Martinis are strong. “The crotch goblins won’t fall into a well if you stay for one game of Jenga. Live a little.”

“I can squeeze in a quick game.” Tanner glances down at their hands touching.

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