Dating Him: The Series

by Michelle MacQueen

  Asher gave his parents—and a few reporters—the grand tour of his work along with all the other artists showing alongside him. True to form, Caitlin fan-girled over his mom, but he couldn’t blame her. His mom was pretty awesome, and she loved Caitlin’s sculpture so much she bought it and sent Caitlin into a total freak-out.

  After performing his obligations, Asher was ready to leave with his friends. It wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for, but his first exhibit went well, and it was something to put on his college resume.

  “It’s just silk screen and digital crap. It’s not even real art.”

  Asher’s steps faltered and his shoulders slumped. And there it is. The two boys didn’t see him standing behind the huge concrete pillar, but he heard all he needed.

  “He’s just here to draw in the crowd so the rest of us can get the attention of the real patrons. I actually sold several of my pieces tonight. Enough to pay for at least a year of art school, so I’m not complaining.”

  “It’s just shitty print work taking the place of a real artist. We’re all painters and sculptors. His crap is just fussy graphic design at best and has no place in a gallery like this.”

  He should have known better. He did know better, but his feet moved anyway. “I’m pretty sure Andy Warhol would disagree with you about print art. Silkscreen is a classic medium just like painting and sculpting and photography. You might want to take an art history class or two while you’re in school, just to brush up on your knowledge.”

  “Hey, man, we didn’t—”

  “No worries, really. Have a good night.” Asher turned and walked away. He shouldn’t care about what total strangers thought. But he did.

  “Want to get out of here?” Asher asked Nicky and Wylder. “You’re staying with us, right?”

  “Your mom invited us just now,” Wylder said.

  “Let’s go home and eat ice cream and not talk about art.”

  “Remind me again why we’re watching a high school hockey game on your iPad?” Asher sat back against his headboard, scraping the bottom of his second bowl of cookie dough ice cream.

  “I need you to explain this game to me so I can finally understand it. Kenny has been trying to teach me for years, but he gets frustrated before we get very far.”

  “You guys are that close?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. This would help.” He gestured at the screen. “I try to watch every game.”

  “But he’s such an ass.”

  “He’s not that bad once you get to know him,” Wylder said, propping her fluffy pink slippered feet on the edge of his bed. “He’s a dick, don’t get me wrong, but that’s just because he’s … Kenny.” She shrugged.

  “Anything to get my mind off tonight.” Asher sighed.

  “It was a good show, Ash, don’t let the other crap ruin it for you.” Wylder stood to make her third bowl of ice cream. She’d vowed she was going to try every flavor the kitchen brought up, and she was halfway there.

  “I know. And I appreciate it. I know I’m complaining about the most ridiculous things, but I just wish it could be about me and my art. Not my parents, their connections or my sexuality. I’m the LGBTQ Golden Boy, and I’ve never even been kissed. Well…mostly never been kissed. I don’t think a drunken half-kiss at a pool party counts.”

  “Pause. Who did you kiss?” Wylder set her bowl down and leaned forward.

  “Wait, let’s be half-decent friends here,” Nicky said. “We’re putting a pin in the whole “half-kiss” thing for one moment, but we’re coming back to that.”

  “Oh my God, did you kiss Kenny?” Wylder’s eyes sparkled with interest.

  “Wylder, focus.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “All right, Asher Brooks. It’s time for some tough love. You’ve got first-world problems, my friend.”

  Asher laughed, reaching for a pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream. He was going to be sick before this night was over. “I’m fully aware I’m being ridiculous, but I’m so sick of being the president’s son. You know what it’s like in the spotlight. They think they know you, but they’re all just making shit up as they go.”

  “The media is the devil. I get this.” Nicky finished his one bowl of plain strawberry ice cream and set it on the night stand beside Asher’s bed. “But during my first stint in the spotlight, I had to learn to just let it be what it is. You have no control over what people say about you, but you do control your reaction to it. Rise above it, Ash. You’ll be a lot happier with your life if you can let the haters hate.”

  “You do you, Asher,” Wylder added. “The important people will stick around. All the others. They don’t count. Now about that kiss that might or might not count?”

  Asher threw his pillow at her.

  “Seriously, how have you never been kissed?” She stared at him. “You’re hot. You’re like a teen icon. What gives?”

  “I live in a tower surrounded by a moat, and my Prince Charming is out there wandering around looking for me in all the wrong places.”

  “But seriously? How?” Nicky frowned at him. “You’ve been out for like five years. How has this not happened for you at some event somewhere?”

  “I don’t. Know. What. I’m. Doing.” Asher stared them both down. “Seriously. That’s it.”

  “But let’s talk about Kenny in the pool and sort of kisses.” Wylder crossed her arms over her chest. “Walk us through what happened before Nicky and Becks showed up and all the other kids ended up in the pool at your birthday party. Kenny was there with you alone, right?”

  “How do you even know all this?”

  “I follow the blogs and the important social news. Now, dish the story, or I’m going to get cranky.”

  “Fine.” Asher shared the details of the weird non-kiss he experienced the night of his eighteenth birthday. “But it didn’t mean anything. It happened so fast, and I wasn’t sober. And I didn’t kiss him back, so it doesn’t count, right. Plus, he’s straight, or at least, he’s always claimed to be. I really don’t know anymore. With the media circus a few months ago.” He looked sideways at Nicky. “And ugh…the random kiss with you. He’s probably just confused. I know that. He’ll go back to his douchbag bigoted ways.”

  “I wanna tell him.” Wylder sat back. “Can I tell him?”

  “No.” Nicky shot her a death glare.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Ugh, nothing. So what happened after the party? Did he text you or anything?”

  “No. Well…I sorta texted him, accidentally.”

  “Accidentally?” Wylder frowned.

  She laughed for at least five minutes after Asher told her the story of the random emoji text.

  “Why didn’t you delete it as soon as you sent it?”

  “That’s what I told him to do.” Nicky grinned.

  “Yeah, well, neither of you geniuses were there when it happened.” Asher groaned, covering his face. It felt good to laugh about it with his friends.

  “What did he say?” Wylder asked. “Did he respond?”

  “He started to, but it took him nearly two weeks to figure out a response.”

  “Wait, he responded?” Nicky’s ears perked up. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “It happened recently.”

  “What did he say?” Wylder asked again. She was getting far too much entertainment out of his humiliation.

  “Nothing exactly.” He fidgeted with his phone.

  “He didn’t?” Nicky gasped. “He’s such an idiot.”

  “What? Ooh, did he send pics? Let me see!” Wylder jumped on the bed between them, her ice cream all but forgotten.

  “You can’t see anything.” Asher’s face grew hot as he thought about the picture. “But I have no idea how to respond.”

  “It was at the dunk tank wasn’t it?” Wylder laughed. “I dared him to go in naked, so, of course, he did. I can’t believe he sent you the picture I took. But then again, I kind of can.”

  “But, what does it mean?” Asher looked to his friends for an
swers. “What does it mean when a super conservative senator’s maybe straight son sends you a naked man pic? Is there a rule book about how you’re supposed to respond to these things?”

  “Oh, I really wanna tell him, Nicky.”

  “Ignore her,” Nicky insisted. “Why don’t you try responding to his text with actual words and see if you can get a real conversation going? Then maybe you can come to terms with that kiss.”

  “It was a non-kiss. It doesn’t count when it’s over before you can figure out what’s happening.”

  “Okay, but that non-kiss still means something.”

  “How can it? There is no way Kenny Montgomery is ever going to date a guy—even if he wanted to. I know his family. His father would ground him for life, and that’s only if his mother didn’t murder him first.”

  “I was in the same situation with Becks not even a year ago. I made the mistake of believing straight was the default. When we’re born, we’re supposed to be straight until we make the colossal decision to re-inform everyone in our lives that they’ve been wrong about us all along. For some, that conversation is the most terrifying thing you could imagine. My father had a hard time with it at first. You had it easy with your parents and a whole nation behind you. With people like Becks, it’s not always easy to define themselves. Straight isn’t the default, but neither is gay.”

  “Are you saying Kenny might have wanted that kiss? That he wasn’t just drunk and reckless?” Asher wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

  “No, I’m just saying don’t discredit him or assume you know what he was thinking or what he wants. There is a lot more to Kenny than he lets on, and it might be worth repairing your friendship to find that out for yourself.”

  “But how do I respond to the naked man text?” Asher knew he needed supervision if that was going to happen.

  “I’ll help you figure that out, if you can teach me how to follow Kenny’s hockey games? He’s tried to teach me, but he has zero patience for teaching.

  “Deal. Next time there’s a game, we’ll watch it together over the phone, and I’ll walk you through everything.”

  13

  Kenny

  Playing in front of scouts wasn’t anything new for Defiance Academy’s star center. His family advisor, Kyle, showed up at a lot of games.

  But the person who never came? Kenny’s mom.

  Yet, there she was. He thought he’d imagined it at first when his head crashed into the glass behind the net, and his eyes found her.

  Wishful thinking, maybe.

  But that would have required him to wish for it.

  He tried to push her from his mind. They had a game to win. Defiance Academy was down two goals with three minutes left in the third. Killian tried to keep the team in the game, making save after save, but the defense hung him out to dry for each goal against.

  He skated to the bench during the timeout, his face blazing red with anger. “What’s wrong with you idiots? Play some damn hockey.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Nothing seemed to be going right for the team.

  Coach gave them a minute to collect themselves. He wasn’t one for impassioned speeches. Kenny scanned his teammates’ faces. For many of the seniors, this would be their last season of hockey ever. Some would go on to play in college. A few might be lucky enough to hear their names called at the draft in June.

  But the only ones who were said to be sure bets were Kenny and Killian.

  After coach laid out a face-off play, the skaters moved back toward the left face-off dot. In the grand scheme of things, this game might not matter. No one would remember who made which plays. They’d move on to the next game.

  But in the life of a potential NHL draft pick, every second on the ice counted.

  Instead of following his wingers, Kenny skated to the goal. If this game could still be salvaged, one man had to be better than the rest.

  “Do you have this, Killer?” He gripped the cage of Killian’s mask.

  “Of course, man.”

  “We can still win this.” He glanced back over his shoulder to where the ref yelled his name. “You and me. Forget about everyone else on this ice. It’s up to us. There are scouts here.”

  “There are always scouts.”

  Kenny grit his teeth. “Killian.” He never used his actual name in a game. “I know you still have another year after this one, but I don’t want to sit at the draft in June and look back at this season wondering if there was something more I could’ve done. You are I are the ones who are going to win this. Promise me you won’t let a single puck hit the back of this net for the next three minutes.”

  Fire burned in the goalie’s eyes. “Let’s do this, Ken doll.”

  Kenny patted the side of his helmet and skated to where the refs and forwards waited impatiently. As he passed Will, he pointed. The puck was going to him.

  Winning the face-off, Kenny slid the puck to Will before taking off down the ice, opening himself up for the stretch pass. The puck hit the blade of his stick, and he cradled it, deking around a defenseman and firing a shot into the top right corner of the net.

  The horn blast reverberated in his ear. Turning toward Killian, he held up one finger. The team was still down.

  Coach called for Kenny to change lines, but he shook his head. Even with heavy legs, he knew he couldn’t leave this ice. There was a time he’d been a leader on this team. Maybe this was his chance to return to that.

  New wingers joined him for the face-off. He didn’t look at a single skater for the other team. This wasn’t about them.

  He won another face-off, getting the puck to one of his wingers. The guy passed it back, and Kenny skated in toward the net with an open shot lane.

  If he hadn’t been so focused on the puck, he’d have seen the huge defenseman coming. He’d have anticipated the pain. A body collided with his for an open-ice hit. The boy’s shoulder rammed into Kenny’s chin, throwing him back. He slammed into the ice. A sharp pain speared through his chest.

  Play stopped, and a trainer ran onto the ice. Kenny’s teammates hovered over him in worry. It wasn’t until Kenny saw Killian he knew he had to get up. Together, they were supposed to save this game, to lead their team. Two unlikely boys.

  “Lay still, son.” The trainer tried to hold him down.

  “No. I’m okay. I can play.”

  “You have to go through concussion protocol.”

  “After the game. Please. I didn’t even hit my head.” He looked to his coach for help. “We can win this. Let me show them I can lead this team. Coach…” His coach had been there for everything. The stupid fights. Breaking the rules. He’d watched Kenny go from golden boy to confused and troubled kid.

  “Fine.” Coach motioned to a couple of Kenny’s teammates. “Help him up.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers as Kenny stood and prepared for the penalty shot he’d earned. He pushed down the pain and shifted from skate to skate as he tapped his stick on the ice. His eyes met the opposing goalie’s seconds before he started forward, gathering the puck, going from backhand to forehand in quick succession.

  Before reaching the goal, he slowed almost to a stop. The goalie followed him, coming out of the net to track the puck. At the last second, Kenny released a burst of speed, pulling the goalie out of position before tucking the puck behind his left pad.

  He couldn’t remember ever hearing the arena so loud.

  Defiance Academy tied the game.

  Thirty seconds. That was how much time they had left to score to avoid overtime.

  Kenny’s teammates congratulated him with big hugs.

  Will patted him on the back. “We need to get the puck to Ken.”

  “No. They’ll be trying to cut off every play toward me. I’ll draw them out of position. Someone else has to take the shot.”

  They all agreed, but Kenny wondered if they’d say yes to anything he told them at that point. Winning another face-off, he passed the puck back through his legs before sprinting up
the ice. The two opposing defensemen followed him as he knew they would.

  He cut toward the center of the ice as one of his wingers raced up the boards, passing to their other linemate in front of the net. The puck redirected into the net as the horn sounded, signaling the end of the game.

  Kenny’s teammates poured onto the ice, but he could barely see them as black spots danced across his vision. He fell to his knees before everything disappeared.

  Kenny jerked awake as someone held smelling salts under his nose. He sat up, taking in the trainer’s room and the padded bed he lay on.

  Coach Ryan stood next to the bed. “We want to get you checked for a concussion.”

  “Can it wait?” In that moment, he remembered his mom was at the game. She’d come to see him play. Whatever stood between them, that had to mean something.

  Noise from the busy locker room filtered in. With a groan, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

  Coach eyed him warily. “Fine, kid. But once everyone clears out, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  His entire body hurt, so he wouldn’t disagree with that.

  As soon as he entered the locker room, voices cut off and dozens of eyes landed on him.

  “He lives!” Will stepped up onto a bench. “Dude, you single-handedly won us that game. Well, you and Killer.”

  Kenny shook his head. “It wasn’t just us. That was a team effort.”

  “You’re not in the NHL yet, man. No one is making you say boring humble things.”

  Kenny laughed at that, the action sending a shock of pain through his head. Coach Ryan appeared behind him. “You’re wanted outside the locker room, Montgomery.”

  Kenny pushed out into the corridor to where Anders Johansson leaned against the concrete wall. The former hockey star was now an amateur scout for the New York Islanders. He smiled when Kenny appeared.

  “It’s good to see you, Kenny.” They’d met a few times already.

  Kenny nodded. “You too, sir.”

  “This was quite the game. I was very impressed with how you put the team on your back. How’s your head?”