Page 49 of The Trade Deadline
“You okay?” Jake asked with captainly concern.
“I just…” Lars’s leg shook under the table so violently Ryan wanted to reach out and stop it. “I don’t want to play poorly. Against them. I don’t want them to be glad I’m gone.”
Ryan understood that painfully well, and from a few sympathetic nods from others around the table, they weren’t alone.
“You’ll do fine,” Jake said with the confidence of a man who had played his entire career for the team that had drafted him and would likely finish it there, too.
Lars’s shaking got so bad that when he accidentally hit the edge of the table, three drinks nearly tipped over.
“Jesus, Nilsy,” Vorny said as he eyed Lars like he had the plague. “You need to calm the fuck down. You’re wound up tighter than a corkscrew.”
Lars looked bewildered, but at least he was sitting still. “A what?”
“You need to relax,” Vorny said. He took a sip of his beer and gave Lars a calculating look. “You should get laid.”
“Yeah, right!” Tomas practically yelled. “No one in this town’ll touch him with a ten foot pole.”
There were some chuckles until Jake scowled at them. “I don’t care what city you’re in,” he said. “Hockey town or not, there’s alwayssomeone.And that’s for us ugly guys. With a face like yours, you won’t have any trouble.”
“Oh, uh…” Lars went bright red, his blond eyebrows disappearing as he did a pretty good impression of a tomato. “I don’t know about that…”
Vorny shrugged. “It would help you relax,” was all he said, then politely changed the topic. Even as the rest of the team talked about their upcoming outing to the Columbia River Gorge for team building, Lars looked painfully uncomfortable.
Ryan didn’t get it. He’d gone for hook-ups every now and then when he needed the distraction. Vorny was right, it usually helped with blowing off steam before a stressful game. Why wouldn’t he?—?
It suddenly clicked. While he wasn’t completely sure what Lars’s sexual orientation was, he’d gotten the impression in Geneva that Lars was gay. He was new to the team and probably didn’t feel comfortable bringing someone back to the hotel where he’d risk being seen with another man. Ryan wasn’t an idiot—he knew plenty of teams and players were huge dicks to their queer players. The Blue Crabs were the only team where Ryan had felt safe being openly bi, but it’d taken almost a full season before he’d gotten to that point. Lars had been with the team a whopping four months and maybe didn’t realize he wouldn’t get shit for it. Even if he’d gotten the vibe the team was accepting, it was one thing toknowand another thing todo.
All through the evening, Lars’s tension was palpable, a physical presence weighing him down. His shoulders sagged and the dark lines under his eyes—barely noticeable when the evening began—looked like bruises. The poor guy was in desperate need of a distraction, and short of offering himself as tribute (and he didnotappreciate the way his dick liked that scenario), Ryan struggled to find a way to help.
As dinner ended and the rest of the team started to drift apart, some heading back to the hotel for bed and others arguing the benefits of staying out for a couple drinks. Ryan took his chance: he grabbed Lars’s sleeve as he left the table and pulled him aside.
“Hey,” he said, feeling as nervous as a kid about to ask out his prom date. “If you need a wingman who won’t judge who you pick up, lemme know. Vorny’s kinda blunt but he’s got a point. You’re…” He tried to find a delicate way to phrase it, gave up, and said, “You’re kind of a mess.”
Lars stared at him with blue, unblinking eyes. “And who do you think I’d be picking up?” he asked, voice off.
“I literally have zero idea who you’d be into.”Correction: I have one very specific idea of who you might be into, but that’s off the table.“I’m just offering. In case you needed the offer. From a friend.” God, why was he so bad at this? “Sorry, this seemed like a better idea in my head.”
“No, I appreciate it,” Lars said hurriedly. “Really. But I…” He shook his head forlornly. “Maybe another time. I can’t here.”
Ryan had no clue what that meant, but he knew he didn’t like it. Lars had left the Prowlers so abruptly and vaguely pinned it on “politics.” There were enough pieces to form a bigger picture and Ryan didn’t like the shape they were making.
“Well, how about we hang out?” He refused to give up so easily. Lars had declined the wingman offer, not the company, and leaving him to his own devices wouldn’t help him chill out. “In the hotel lobby, I think they had some card games, or we could watch?—”
“They have Xboxes you can borrow. And the NHL games,” Lars said. “I stayed in this hotel when I first moved to Portland. Before I got my condo.” He’d started in an excited rush, his usual spark briefly returning, but by the end it had fizzled out.
“Xbox sounds great,” Ryan said with more enthusiasm than he’d ever felt for video games. He was lucky hanging out with Tanner had at least given him a general understanding of the controls. “If you’re nice, I’ll even let you play as me,” he said with a wink and slung an arm around Lars’s shoulder.
“That’s not how it works,” Lars said. He relaxed into Ryan’s touch. “But I call the Blue Crabs.”
“Then I call Team Sweden,” Ryan countered. “I hear that Lars Nilsson’s not bad.”
Lars laughed. “He’s okay. Nothing like that Ryan Russell. Can’t wait until the next Olympics when he gets to lead Team USA to gold.”
“You’ve been playing too many video games. The real one’ll be lucky if he even makes the team.”
Lars shot him an outraged look and nearly tore away from Ryan’s hold. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me destroy Team Sweden just to prove you’re wrong. They’ll revoke my citizenship.”
“I’m sure you’ll sweet talk them into letting you keep it.”
