Page 80 of The Trade Deadline
One: they had never confirmed out loud that they were dating. Nothing about “boyfriends” or anything like that, and Ryan definitely wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
Two: what did it mean to date someone? Ryan wasn’t worried in the philosophical sense. His concerns were completely practical. Should they carpool together? Should they keep toiletries at each other’s place? If someone asked, should he say he was in a relationship? How would he field the inevitable follow-up questions? Were they exclusive?
The anxiety those thoughts prompted made him immediately opt out of figuring out the answer.
And honestly, he didn’t need to. Things were going well. Ryan didn’t necessarily need to be in a relationship to enjoy what they were doing together.
…he would just be kind of bummed if it ended.
“Stop,” he warned himself out loud, causing Tomas and the Ivans to look at him strangely. “Just thinking about the play,” he mumbled and turned his attention back to the drill.
Later, in the locker room, he started to consider the evening. No game tonight, which meant dinner and seeing if Lars wanted to go to Ryan's apartment or his. And maybe?—
He had a missed call from Tanner. Tanner, who never called. Ryan was surprised Tanner even knew how to use the call feature on his phone. There was a text, too.
kind of an emergency pls call
I know you’re probably at hockey work but there’s a problem
No one is hurt or anything but your apartment is fucked
That was ominous.
Ryan abandoned changing (he’d at least gotten his gear off, but was still in his sweaty Under Armour) and stepped out of the locker room.
“What’s wrong with my apartment?” he asked as soon as the line connected. “Are you sure no one’s hurt?”
“Hey, bro,” Tanner said with more seriousness than usual. He sounded…sober? Like when he’d gone to his parents’ place and laid off the weed for a day. “Yeah, no one’s hurt but something went wrong with the pipes on your floor. Something burst and it got so bad it was leaking into my place a bit, so I used your spare key to look. Total shit show, lemme tell you.”
Ryan froze. He hadn’t realized he’d been pacing until he stopped in the middle of the hallway, chest tight like he’d just finished a two minute shift. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve called the landlord and made him get guys in to start fixing it. I don’t think you wanna stay there, though. It’s a mess and smells kinda funky, and they had to shut off the water so no showers or toilet or cooking or laundry or, well, you get the idea.”
He did, and the idea was awful. “How long did they say it would take?” It didn’t sound like a “done by five” type of fix.
Tanner made an indecipherable noise. Something between “shit I’m out of potions” and “whoops I forgot this map.”
“Tanner…” he warned.
“They don’t know for sure, but probably early February?”
“Febr—? Tanner, it’s barely January!” He winced at his own rising voice, and tried to calm down. “So I’m basically homeless for a month?”
“Homeless?”
Tanner was still talking, something about how Ryan was more than welcome to stay with him, but when Ryan turned around and found Lars watching him, he stopped listening.
“Hey, Tanner, I’ll have to call you back,” he said and ended the call.
“What’s wrong?” They were in the middle of the hallway that the whole team would have to go through to leave, and it was clear Lars was doing his best to keep his voice light, like a curious teammate with only a passing interest. His expression told a different story, brow knit in concern and eyes watching him sharply. “Why are you homeless? What is a Tanner?”
The last question caught him off guard, so he started with that. “Tanner is my neighbor.”
“Tanner is a name?” Lars asked incredulously, his face betraying his disapproval of American names.
“My apartment flooded. It’s no big deal,” Ryan said breezily, the same way he’d respond to a reporter asking him about a disastrous game. “Tanner said I can stay with him. It’s a bit of a pain since it’s for?—”
“A month,” Lars interrupted. “Stay with me. I have room.”
