“Actually we’ve been corresponding with each other for years,” I say.
“You didn’t say anything when I introduced you one week ago.”
“I followed his vlog,” Noah says quickly. “We exchanged messages. He didn’t know it was me until I told him later.”
“And then you told him, and he got you drunk?” Coach asks, brow furrowed.
My heart pounds. This isn’t going to work. Coach totally sees through us. He knows we’re random teammates and doesn’t believe a word we’re saying.
“I don’t drink often,” Noah says. “It was an accident.”
I nod.
Coach sighs. “You were sitting apart on your way to Vegas.”
“And looking miserable,” Noah says, which is some awesome quick thinking. He squeezes my hand again. “I love Finn, sir. We didn’t plan to elope, but that doesn’t mean our feelings aren’t true and strong.”
“The last time I spoke to you it was because you were acting homophobic.”
“Which we told you wasn’t true,” Finn says.
“And now I know why you got so angry.” Coach closes his eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“We didn’t mean for the whole world to know.”
“You just wanted to get married,” Coach says.
“Because we love each other.”
Noah smiles at me exactly as if we were really a couple and I had told him I loved him.
“You need to call your agents,” Coach says. “They’ll need to talk with team management. This is a huge deal, guys.”
“I know,” I say softly.
“You’re supposed to disclose relationships.”
“That’s not in the handbook,” Noah says. “I, um, just read it. Since I’m new.”
Coach sighs. “I guess HR didn’t think about homosexual relationships between players when they wrote it.”
“I don’t want Noah to be sent away,” I say. “I’m sure the team owners don’t want a scandal about the Blizzards thwarting young love.”
“My son is gay. That’s, um, no issue.” Coach backs away, his eyes still wide. “Call your agent. And this is an elliptical room. Not a kissing room.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Noah says.
Coach nods and flees the room, and we’re alone again.
I step away, even though I miss the feel of being beside me. I glance at my phone. “Twelve missed calls. Better call my agent.”
Noah nods, notmeeting my eyes.
God, he probably hated kissing me. My stomach churns at the thought, guilt once again flooding me. I fumble through my phone, my fingers shaking, until I see my agent’s name, then I inhale, and press call.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Noah
