Page 118 of Drop the Gloves
He heard the screech of tires making the last bend in the parking garage and sighed when Riley backed in right next to him, so close that their cars almost touched.Then he popped out of his car and pulled Evan down for a wet kiss on the cheek.Which, fine, no one except other Riveters might see them.And the kiss on the cheek was Riley’s Thing right now.He scored a goal?He’d kiss your cheek.You scored?Another kiss!Goalie got a shutout?Yep, a kiss.It was kind of a brilliant cover, though Evan would never tell him that.
But the real problem today of all days was when he noticed Riley’s game suit.The pale goldenrod pants and jacket, the light cream shirt, and, of fucking course, the yellow tie with green wrenches that Evan had gotten him for Christmas.
“Nice tie,” Evan said, grinding his teeth.It was one of Riley’s favorites, in fact, so he should’ve guessed this would happen.Riley hadn’t even been dressed when Evan had left the condo, so it’d slipped his mind.
Riley looked down at the tie, then grinned widely.“Thanks.My boyfriend got it for me.”
“I know,” Evan said.He waited for Riley to see the problem, but when he didn’t, Evan held up his own tie.The matching green tie with yellow wrenches.“This isn’t what I meant when I said we needed to fly under the radar.”
“Twinsies!”Riley said, then punched Evan’s shoulder.“C’mon, Ev.No one’ll even notice.”
Everyone noticed.
Especially when they walked in together, past the stream of photographers and reporters and bloggers and fans, all with a keen eye for the minutiae of players’ lives, all of them looking for an inside scoop.Riley, always cheerful in the spotlight, smiled and waved all the way to the locker room.Evan wished he kept spare ties in the car.
The locker room offered no escape.He stowed away the tie as quickly as he could, but as he undressed, a second, more troublesome problem emerged.
“That a hickey, Abs?”
It took a monumental effort not to turn and glare at Riley.Evan could hear his snickers as he turned to face Turner.He mentally went throughI don’t know what you’re talking aboutandmind your own businessbefore settling on, “Fuck off.”
Turner cackled, everyone nearby joining him.Riley included, the traitor.It was only Dalton’s pointed look that actually embarrassed him, and he kept his head down as he changed as quickly as possible.First time in a long time, he couldn’t wait to get his neck guard on.
* * *
The team always went all out for St.Patrick’s Day.It was huge in Pittsburgh, and the team’s green and yellow tied in perfectly with the city’s mania.All their yellow was swapped with a glittery gold—helmets included—and a glittery shamrock was put behind their Riveters logo.It was a sparkly monstrosity, honestly, but the fans loved it.
(The fans in Pittsburgh, anyway.His mom hated it because the gold made it harder to watch on TV since it reflected every bit of light in the arena.Luckily this year she wouldn’t have to worry about the TV glare.)
Evan didn’t mind themtoomuch.They weren’t his favorite, but he’d seen worse jerseys around the league.The gold was a little gaudy, but the bright helmets made it easier to find his teammates.He had more issue with them wearing the outfits almost a full week before St.Patrick’s day, but it was the closest weekend game to the holiday, and Pittsburgh didn’t seem to be as strict about dates for holidays as other places he’d lived.He’d learned that the hard way his first year in the city and been startled to have July 4th fireworks going off on June 28th.
Another problem with the gold: it made them look like a college team, and he pulled at his jersey self-consciously.The jersey that would be auctioned off after the game, his sweat and all.Weird.
“We look fucking golden tonight, boys,” Riley called as he stood up in the center of the locker room.He did a little twirl to show off, and half the guys started clapping and cheering for him.Evan rolled his eyes; they really shouldn’t encourage him.“Can’t lose when you got like six four-leaf clovers on ice at a time, amirite?”
And as goofy as the jerseys looked, Evan couldn’t deny that the gold suited Riley.He looked good.Really good.Kissably good.
Evan cut off that thought and packed it away.He needed to compartmentalize the parts of him that played hockey with Riley and the parts of him that did other things with him.Right now, the focus was on hockey.
Later, though...
For the millionth time since they’d gotten to the arena, Evan checked his wrist.He didn’t usually wear his watch when he played, but today he had reason to.His mom was coming to town, ostensibly to celebrate Evan’s birthday, but he maybe had an ulterior motive in asking her to visit.
“Stop checking your watch,” the Ulterior Motive said.They were lined up in the tunnel outside the rink, waiting to get onto the ice for warm-ups, and Riley was bumping him with the butt of his stick.“She’s here, I promise.”
He’d gotten a text message to that effect earlier.Evan was supposed to pick her up at the airport in the morning, but her flight from Toronto had been delayed because of a late snowstorm.She’d promised him she was more than capable of arranging transportation to the arena, but he worried.He didn’t want her to miss the game, though he did like that it had bought him a few hours before he had to explain the real reason why he’d asked her to visit.
“But what if?—“
Riley bonked him on the head.It required him to reach up to do it, and then to jump when Evan tried to jerk his head away, but he managed it.“Nope.It went fine.You’re gonna see her in the crowd, and you’re gonna score some goals for your mom, and then you’re gonna celebrate your bday at that fancy place down the street.”
“Shhh,” he hissed.“Don’t jinx it.”
Riley didn’t say anything else, but his look was a clear,I do what I want.
As soon as they got on the ice and did a few laps, Riley and Evan stopped at the top of the left circle.This was Their Spot during warm-ups, their routine now a permanent fixture of their games.There was no rhyme or reason to the number of whacks or who would be the whacker versus the whackee, but it was so much a part of Riveters games that a crowd of fans was pressed against the glass near them.As Evan smacked Riley’s ass, they called out the number.
“One!Two!Three!Four!”
