Page 46 of Reckless On Ice

“That’s wonderful. They’ll be lucky to have your support,” the podcaster says.

Tia cuts in and points to the next station, moving us along the step-and-repeat for photos next. She has us pose separately and together for photos. It’s a little awkward to put my arm around Sergio’s shoulders for one of them, but Tia instructs us for the cameras, so I follow her lead.

We go through this a few more times before we finally make it into the party, and it feels like I’ve spoken to fifty reporters and taken a million photos. My face hurts from smiling.

“Don't your cheeks hurt at this point?” Sergio asks as he grabs two purple cocktails off a passed tray and hands one tome.

“I was just thinking that,” I say with a laugh before I take a tentative sip of the drink. It’s a lavender-infused gin and tonic, I think, and not too bad, even if it’s not pink.

“Now, we mingle,” Sergio says with a smile as we move into the party proper.

And that’s exactly what we do. We speak with more people than I can remember and talk about the Vers app with people who have no problem describing their hookups in great detail. I don’t share about my own, other than that I’ve used the app, because of course an ambassador would. I make no commitments when asked if I’ll use the new local match feature to begin dating. Instead, I say it’s a great new addition to the app, and I hope users find it helpful for their love lives.

At the end of the night, I walk with Sergio to our town cars. We hug before going our separate ways after exchanging numbers, but no promises to connect later. He was nice, and it was great to have a partner to get through the event with, but I didn’t feel that spark with him beyond an initial attraction I’d feel for anyone who was that perfectly beautiful.

Twenty-five

Ryder

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Man, it is too early for you to be shouting like that,” Westy says, rubbing his eyes as he pours coffee into a travel mug before morning practice.

I scroll through the gallery of photos attached to the article and seethe while my mug of coffee is forgotten. Knox looks like a million bucks in a dark burgundy suit and black shirt that’s molded to his body, diamonds in his ears sparkling like his smile. I didn't even know his ears were pierced. In some photos he’s by himself and looking incredible, in others he laughs with the most stunning man I’ve ever seen beside himon a purple carpet at some event for the damn Vers app, where he’s a new ambassador. How can a faceless dick pic app have a face?Two faces,actually, that are as incomparably gorgeous as these men.

“What are you looking at that has you so red?” Westy asks, looking at my phone over my shoulder. “Hey, that’s Knox. Is that a new boyfriend or something? Damn, good for him, that dude is objectively smoking hot.”

“Shut the fuck up or I will break your face,” I snap, locking my phone and stuffing it in the pocket of my bag so he can’t comment on Knox. I grab my travel mug to leave.

“Damn, it’s cool if you miss him. He’s your friend, and you’re going through something, but there's no need to bite my head off.” Westy steps back when I shoot him a glare.

“I don't want to talk about Knox,” I grumble, stalking out the door. Westy follows, because, of course, we’re carpooling today and I can’t just leave him here.

“Bro, you’re obviously going through it, and those photos pissed you off. All I’m saying is I get it, and I’m not judging. I’m giving you an outlet to talk because you’re a real jerk when you get like this, and no one likes you like that. If you want the D-line and the team to have your back, you have to be a bit more likable, man.” He holds his hands up in adon’t hold it against me for speaking the truthkind of way, and I roll my eyes as I start the car.

I pinch my temples and rub my eyes for a moment before looking up and beginning the drive. What do I even tell him? It’s not like I can come out to my teammates.

But why can't I? Knox came out, and he seems to be doing fine. The Condors rallied around him, making a big public statement about supporting all of their players, regardless of their identities, and pledging to create initiatives for LGBTQ+ inclusion in sports throughout the organization, which is huge.

“I’m…” I begin, feeling the word stick in my throat and having to swallow around it before I can get it out. “…bisexual.” My stomach churns at the words spoken out loud for the first time.

“And I’m Québécois, but most people just call me Canadian,” Westy says, like we’re talking about our nationalities.

“I’m not talking about where I’m from, I’m talking about who I want to fuck,” I snap at him, exasperation rising when I have to even say this.

“Well, that’s how I feel about it. It’s of such little consequence as where you’re from to me. I don't care who you want to fuck. Take a woman home. Take a man home. Take both. I don't fucking care. Just get some. I'm sure half our team is bi or has at least experimented. Everyone's getting way too comfortable with each other, ya know?”

“Seriously?” I say slowly, wondering if it’s that easy.

“Yes, you idiot. Now, what’s up with Knox? Was there something between you, and that’s why you’re crashing at my place in the world’s most uncomfortable bed?”

“Dude, you know that bed sucks and you let me stay withyou anyway?” I ask in annoyance.

“It’s how I keep people from staying too long. The bed guarantees guests will go home because they can't stand the accommodations. Sorry, not sorry,” he says with a grin.

“Rude,” I say with a grimace before I go back to his original question. “Yeah, there’s something between us. Knox wants me to admit I have feelings for him,” I say slowly. “We got into a fight because I’m not ready to come out and say it. So I left.” I don't tell him about the text Knox sent me about Goldie missing me and wanting me to come home. I know Knox has ulterior motives, and he’s using my fish against me to get me to break down and do what he wants.

“You really want to avoid the conversation that badly, huh?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

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