Page 4 of Offside

I made a point to learn the names of every staff member I worked with directly, and they all got Christmas cards from me, or Hanukkah, in the case of Macey and Victor–one of our equipment guys.

Besides, staff members talked.

And the last thing I needed was to piss one off and have everything about me blasted on TMZ by lunch.

“Pretty face won't be so pretty for a few days, but you’ll live,” she hummed, smiling that million-dollar smile that could win pageants.

“Thanks, Mace.” I sighed, sliding off the exam table she'd forced me to sit on and gearing up to head back out there. “I owe ya–”

“Still waiting on my hot date, Lando,” she teased, blowing a kiss at me jokingly and sending me off.

“Just waitin on you not working for me,” I teased back, finger waving at her as I left.

As soon as I was outside the door, my face dropped, and I let out a heavy breath.

It was all jokes between Macey and me–at least I sure hoped it was all jokes for her. It had started when I first got here, and she made a joke about me purposely getting hurt just to see her. I joked back that maybe I was, and it had been like this pretty much ever since.

She collected fake hockey husbands like some people collected jerseys.

Except it had to be a joke.

Macey would get fired, and honestly, more importantly, I was gay.

Like, really gay.

No questioning, no curiosity, no possibly bi–just gay.

I’d suspected it since I was a kid–I mean, I hated to perpetuate stereotypes, but I was more of a Barbie than a GIJOE kid. I didn’t mind letting my sister dress me up or put makeup on me–I even let her paint my nails until our dad made her stop.

I'd been out since I was thirteen, to my family at least. My mom, dad, and sister all knew, but no one else did.

I never told anyone else.

By thirteen, I was already doing Junior Olympics Hockey, and scouts were already following me–I was under a close eye. My dad made it clear that it was my choice if I wanted to be fully out–he’d support whatever I chose–but that being out wasn’t free.

All freedoms came at a cost, and mine might very well have been my hockey career.

So, I told no one.

I dated no one.

I was single all through middle school and high school, and even now, I only did hookups that never lasted till morning. I wasn’t even a one-night stand–I was a three-hours-if-you’re-lucky stand.

Before heading back out to the rink, I stopped off at my cubby to check my phone. I’d been waiting to hear back on a place in town, because I made a rule that I wouldn’t actually sign a lease somewhere until I'd been there a full year.

And the Sharks had me for almost two now with no signs of wanting to trade me–I got good at noticing the signs.

HungStud: Hey. Nice body.

Delete.

Fuck–I had to get better at remembering to turn that off again.

I’d had my Mixr profile just on free range all summer without a care in the world because I was everywhere but here. I was in Mexico, Canada, Europe–you name it.

Very low chances of someone I knew seeing it.

Quickly, I opened the app and switched it off, letting out a sigh of relief.