Page 86 of The Trade Deadline
9) He’s got hands: pulled off a Michigan and can deke through the best of them, let him prove it
10) He and Lars would make a great duo representing the Crabs
Chapter26
Ryan
Two and a halfweeks without an apartment, and Ryan was at the point where he didn’t want to go back. He liked his apartment and all, and he missed seeing Tanner, but it was reallyreallynice to see Lars 24/7. The sex was convenient, but he was past pretending that was the only reason. He liked hanging out with him, enjoying home-cooked meals and late-night snuggles, working out together or dicking around at air hockey.
Less than thirty hours before they played the Ohio Otters again, Ryan thought their living arrangement wasn’t just convenient, but essential.
Ryan hadn’t been ready for it last time when they flew to Cincinnati. After seeing how Lars had changed the last time, he’d been wary. He’d watched Lars carefully for signs that he was sinking into bad habits. He thought it might be subtle, the shift from Lars his teammate/sort-of-boyfriend to Lars the younger brother with a chip on his shoulder. Turned out it wasn’t subtle at all.
Lars was on his phone, scrolling through social media as he chattered about a blueberry pancake recipe he wanted to try, when he abruptly stopped talking. Ryan looked over to see what was wrong and instantly recognized the look on his face. The vacant look in his eyes. The slight tightening of his jaw. The way he was gripping his phone like he wanted to snap it in half.
“What’s up?” Ryan asked as casually as he could, slipping into his media voice and nudging Lars with his foot.
Lars didn’t even look up. “The Otters landed at BWI this morning.”
Who was he following to know that? The NHL? The Otters?
Anders?
If one of the latter two, why would he follow them except to torment himself?
“Oh,” Ryan said. “Cool. Should be a good game. Show us if we’re really in shape for the playoffs.”
Lars didn’t respond. His thumb was moving like he was sifting through pictures. Great.
“We did pretty well against the Pythons the other day.”
Still nothing. Lars’s hand stopped moving and he was staring daggers at his screen.
Desperate, Ryan mentally braced himself and went to the only topic he thought might distract Lars. “How do you think the Fan Vote’s going?”
Instantly, Lars blinked and looked up at him. He huffed in annoyance, but it was a much milder version of whatever he’d been experiencing a moment ago. “I don’t like that they don’t show how many votes people have. It’s very rude.”
Ryan shrugged. He didn’t actually think he’d make the cut, and seeing how big of a margin he was losing by wasn’t an appealing prospect. He appreciated that the team had selected him. He’d assumed they’d pick Jake or one of the alternate captains, maybe Vorny, but most of them had already attended in prior years and weren’t having “career years” like he was. Of course, that was because they played at the same high level across several years; Ryan’s “career year” seemed like a pathetic blip in comparison.
He also appreciated that Lars was doing his darndest to campaign for him. It was really sweet, the way he managed to work it into every conversation with reporters. He’d also posted several pictures of the two of them on social media, and a few videos of Ryan at practice. When he’d found time to take them, Ryan still didn’t know, but sometimes he’d leave the locker room and see he’d been tagged in new posts from @lnilsson14. He hadn’t personally posted anything and ignored the comments, but Lars’s enthusiasm really was endearing.
“You know, I won’t be disappointed if I don’t make it,” he said. It was mostly true, too. “I’ll miss you but I’m happy to cheer you on.”
Lars scowled. “I’llbe disappointed. Have you seen the list of players on the Fan Vote?” He had, because Lars had shown it to him no less than ten times. “Iftheymake it over you, it’ll prove the fans have no taste and no appreciation for talent.”
And the true victory: Lars put his phone down.
“Maybe they’re just not as biased as you are.” He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked.
“I’m not biased.” Ryan quirked an eyebrow at him. “Okay, I’m alittlebiased, but you’re a good player and deserve it.”
He preened. He wasn’t nearly as good as Lars thought, but it was nice to bask in his definitely biased praise.
“You know what else you deserve?” Lars asked mischievously. “A blow job before practice.”
Ryan wasn’t going to argue with that one.
* * *
