by Jeff Adams
They didn’t quite understand why I insisted on the expense, but I’d been a fan for as long as I could remember. Having AMDD associated with the team filled me with pride in the same way a job well done did.
The All-Star Game also got a lot more interesting once Kyle Pressgrove—my vote for sexiest guy in the NHL—had been selected for the game and to compete in the skills competition. I’d followed Kyle since we were freshmen in high school and he played for the Warriors. That he’d ended up with the Arsenal seemed like a dream come true because I got to watch him play live so many times during the season. I hated that trade rumors swirled around about him.
The first time I saw Kyle on the ice was burned into my brain. Long, dark hair sticking out from under his helmet got me first, and then he took the helmet off after winning. The beaming smile had my heart skipping a beat or two. Even from a distance, he radiated happiness. I started paying attention to him at school too—subtly, since I was a geeky, gangly kid, and he was very much a star jock. His popular star status didn’t keep him from being nice to everybody though, and I liked that. I never had the nerve to even say hello to him, and in a school our size, anonymity was easy.
My parents never understood my fascination with the game. They always took me to task for going to games. As a teenager, it was because I should have been studying or working. Now, they considered it a waste of hard-earned money.
The fact that Kyle, still a ridiculously handsome hockey player, was part of a bachelor auction benefitting Hockey Allies made this weekend even more special. My logical side, represented by my Dad’s voice, repeated often that it was ridiculous to bid on Kyle.
I ignored that—at least as best as I could.
Why not spend time with my favorite player—and my long-time crush—and go to dinner? I’d never work up the nerve to approach him in Detroit. Sure, I could play the sponsor card to get time with him, but a charity auction was a much better excuse.
I had no idea what to expect at the auction other than they’d assembled quite a group of players to participate. The minimum bid on any of the athletes was a hundred dollars—low enough for most people to be able to afford to bid on their favorite. I would pay whatever it would take for the date with Kyle—that might be stalkerish, but I didn’t care.
The money went to a great cause, so I didn’t care about the cash. Admittedly, part of me just wanted to throw enough money down at the outset to win, but I didn’t want to make that much of a scene. I’d just gently keep nudging the bid up until I won.
“Okay, guys, I’m gone. I’ll ping you on chat as soon as I can.”
“How about you open chat and wait for us to ping you?” Tamera asked as I crossed the office to where my luggage sat by the door.
Tamara tried to make sure I occasionally left the office. She was a good balance for me, often reminding me that I insisted on a work/life balance for the staff and that I deserved that too.
The weekend was going to be awesome. I’d finally meet my favorite player and catch some good hockey. Mixed in with that, we’d finish sorting out the presentation.
As soon as I got in the car, I brought up the designs on my tablet. Just because I wasn’t going to talk to them for about an hour, didn’t mean I couldn’t pore over them and figure out the one to move forward with.
Three
Kyle
It had only taken G asking me to do the auction to say yes. We were always there for each other. Walking into the Windward Way Hotel ballroom, I hadn’t expected it to be so large or for the stage to be quite as imposing.
It had a freakin’ runway.
I took a deep breath to center myself. I could do this. I probably wouldn’t like it, but I’d get through it. Hockey Allies was a great organization. G wouldn’t get me into anything too ridiculous.
A group of players hung out to the side of the stage, and it only took me a moment to spot the instigator of this gig.
“G!” I called out as I approached.
“K!” Breaking away from the group of players, he came over. We did a quick fist bump and a longer hug. We hadn’t seen each other since G had played against us at home a few weeks back. While we texted and FaceTimed a lot, nothing beat actually seeing him. “So good to see you.”
“Good to see you, man. Looks like your friend put together quite the event.”
“And you haven’t seen half of it. They just got some of the rough stuff done so we could rehearse. The room will be fully transformed by tomorrow night. How’ve you been?”
“Good, man. Really working to make myself valuable to avoid the trade. I mean, I get that it will be whatever the team decides is best, but…”
“I know.” G clapped me on the back and guided me over to the rest of the guys. “You want to be one of those players who spends his career rooted in one spot. Seems harder to do these days with all concern about salary caps and random, wild trades and expansions. You never know what’s going to happen.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” I jabbed at G’s ribs with my elbow, knowing exactly where his ticklish spot was.
“Hey…” He flinched and backed away. We traded smirks. “Sorry. Couldn’t help but get in a dose of realism. Not to mention, Mamma P wants you to know that it’s okay if you move.”
I groaned. “She’s talking to you about it?” She already had Bobby working on me.
“You know it.” He smiled and spoke softly. “She wants you happy and not worried about her.” Joining the group, he dropped that conversation. “Guys, you all know Kyle Pressgrove with Detroit.”
Fist bumps and hellos went all around. I knew them, of course, but none as well as I knew G.
And, wow. Layne Coleman was here.
My inner fanboy went into overtime and tamped down the urge to tell him what an inspiration he’d been. His smooth game play and sportsmanship inspired me, not to mention the fact that he still played.
“Okay, I think everybody’s here.” A guy’s voice boomed over the PA, and we all gathered around the extended catwalk to listen.
The details flew fast and furious. The auction would take place after the skills competition, and we had some time to get back and prepare before the event kicked off. After the final bid, the event would continue, allowing everyone to mingle and have time with the person who had won the bidding to arrange the dates.
That was the simple part.
How to not be awkward on the catwalk was another matter. How should I do it? A normal walk? Some semblance of sexy? Any attempt at that would end up looking ridiculous. Some sort of a dance to whatever the music was? A couple guys tried that, and it looked less than good. I enjoyed dancing, but there was a big difference between doing it in a club with friends and on a stage in front of a bunch of strangers.
I’d have to talk to Bobby about how he thought I should walk. He’d never let me look like an idiot. For rehearsal, I kept it simple. I had a few hours to figure out what to do to try and sell myself. The guy on the PA actually said that’s how we should consider it. The bidding would go on for as long as there were bids, and the MC wouldn’t drag it out very long if the bidding made it over a thousand dollars.
What if I couldn’t go for that much money? It’d be embarrassing to be the guy with the lowest bids or something where the auctioneer had to coax the amount up. I sent up a quick prayer that it wouldn’t happen. My self-confidence usually kept me grounded, but it would already be tested here—no need to stretch the boundaries any farther.
Rehearsal zipped by. Hopefully, the event would be the same. I still needed to try on my suit for the stylist, so I dropped into a chair at one of the tables and pulled out my phone to catch up on the text messages Bobby had been sending.
“Hey, Kyle, this looks like it’s gonna be quite something.” David Moore, one of the PR guys from the team, sat across from me. “I snapped a couple of pics, and I’ll toss them up on social media to show people how you’re representing for a good cause during the weekend.”
“You didn’t get anything too ridiculous, did you?” I ran my hand nervously through my hair. The glint in David’s eye temporarily gave me pause.
“Just you striking that pose, hand in pocket, at the end.” I suppressed a groan. That pose had felt ridiculous—I’d regretted it as soon as I did it—and now it’d live forever on Instagram. “Got a couple of you with some of the other players too. We’ll save the really juicy stuff for live auction posts.”
Did I know about that? Sometimes I didn’t pay as much attention to David as I probably should. “Serious?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here. I’ll post some pics. Maybe some live video. Depends on how the Wi-Fi is here. Want to make sure you get your fair share of the other media coverage too.”
Other media coverage. Great. Now I’d have to be even more careful to not be a spaz on stage.
“Oh, I didn’t know he’d be here.” David looked at a guy standing in the doorway of the ballroom.
“Should I know him?”
“Maybe. He’s Austin Murray. He owns AMDD. You’ve probably seen the logo on the scoreboard and some other signage.”
Indeed I had. I liked the futuristic logo. Austin didn’t look like any sponsor I’d ever met—who were usually older and in some sort of business casual attire. He wore simple jeans and a sweater along with super cute glasses perched on his nose that he’d already pushed up twice in the few seconds I’d focused on him.
“We should go say hi.” David put his hand on my forearm to get me to follow him. “Dammit. He wasn’t on the list of sponsors for the weekend.”
Austin looked like a regular guy next door, and I kind of wanted to snuggle up to him because he looked cozy and adorable in the sweater.
Damn, thoughts like that didn’t crop up often. Of course I liked looking at guys, but curling up with one didn’t enter into the equation. Snuggling led to relationships, and that didn’t fit in right now.
The closer we got, the more his stunning eyes stood out. I couldn’t quite decide the color with the all the lights swirling around, but they were light, and they enhanced the appeal of his dark, curly hair and bit of stubble on his cheeks.
“Mr. Murray, not sure if you remember me, I’m David Moore with the Detroit PR office. It’s good to see you. Are you here for the game? No one told me you were coming.”
Austin looked decidedly uncomfortable, and for a moment, he tensed like he might bolt. Composure quickly replaced that though as he relaxed and pasted on a confident smile—one that I recognized from having met sponsors before who always wanted to impress. His eyes even seemed to darken a bit, like he’d flipped a switch to activate business Austin.
“Yes, of course, David. Hello. Please call me Austin. I’m just taking in the game as a fan and wanted to check out the auction—decided to leave the business behind for the weekend.”
“Great. If we can do anything for you though, please just let us know. Happy to help out even while you’re here as a fan. Do you know Kyle Pressgrove?”
I extended my hand, and Austin looked between me and it. Did I scare him?
“Um. Yes. Hi.” He finally took my hand and cleared his throat before he spoke again. There was some of that Austin that had been on display when David first talked to him. “I’m a big fan. Great to meet you.”
Despite the nervousness, his shake was strong.
“Good to meet you as well. Enjoying the city so far?”
“Just arrived a few minutes ago and noticed all this when I was checking in. It’s really great that you’re all taking the time to support something like this.”
“I’m always happy to help organizations like Hockey Allies. My best friend helped organize it, and my brother would be disappointed if I didn’t do this in his city.”
“Hockey runs in the family then?”
“I think my brother would debate that.” A chuckle escaped. “He feels like I got more than my fair share of the skills. He plays better than he gives himself credit for. He’s a defenseman on one of the teams in the Chicago Gay Hockey Association.”
“Kyle?” My name came over the PA. “Can we please get you for your final fitting?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to…”
“No worries. Um, do you think…” Austin paused to adjust his glasses, the movement making my breath catch. “Can I maybe buy my favorite player a drink after you’re done?”
As I considered, David’s eyes bored into me, willing me to say yes. “Sure. I can meet you in the bar in a few minutes.”
The stammers he made when he got nervous only added to the cuteness that had me wanting to snuggle.
The fitting proved worse than the rehearsal. I hated fussing over my appearance, and the tugs, tweaks, hemming, and whatnot got old fast. It turned out well though—black suit, purple vest, black shirt, and matte silver tie worked well. No matter what else happened, I wouldn’t be embarrassed by my appearance.
“Damn,” G said as he walked out of the dressing room, handing off his clothes to one of the stylists. “Can I bid on you?”
“You can’t afford me.” My reply was ridiculous, but I tried to sell it with all the smugness I could muster.
He stepped up and inspected me closer. “You really do look great.”
“Thanks, man. You got all the brunch details?”
“Yup. Bobby sent them. Can’t wait to see Mamma P. Catch you in the morning.”
We said our goodbyes just in time for another stylist to come talk about my hair. I kept it long enough that it could dry and fall pretty well on its own. For events, I usually slicked it back so it’d look more formal, and we agreed that’d work for tomorrow.
Once I changed back into my street clothes, I went to find Austin. He sat at the corner of the bar, facing the door, making him easy to spot. He studied his phone and had earbuds in. He still waved me over but held up a finger, pointed to the phone, and then held up the finger again.
The focused look as he studied his phone and talked quietly kept my attention. I’d seen three sides of Austin so far, and each sparked my interest. David would kick my ass if I hooked up with a sponsor. Hookups weren’t even my thing, but I kind of wanted to be around this guy.
I ordered a ginger ale and waited. I had nothing else on deck for this evening, and tomorrow was an early brunch, a couple of fan zone activities, and then the skills competition followed by the auction.
Austin’s talk centered around designs of some kind, especially colors and touch areas. Despite talking softly, I picked up a few words depending on his inflection. His expression was super serious as he swiped left and right on his phone.
From the way he talked, it didn’t seem like he planned to get off the phone anytime soon. There were no telltale attempts at trying to wrap things up in terms of how he talked or with glances at me. Rather than pulling out my phone to pass the time, I watched SportsCenter on the TV behind the bar.
“I am so sorry,” Austin finally said twenty minutes later. He took the earbuds out, flipped the phone over, and laid the buds on top. “How did the fitting go?”
“I’m not used to being so fawned over. I’ve dressed myself just fine for some twenty years now, and to have three people circling me is bonkers.”
Austin held up his glass, and the bartender poured bourbon. “I hate suits, and I know you guys have to do that every game. It’d make me crazy.”
“You get used to it. Even my youth coach thought it was important—showing respect for the game and our opponents. So I make sure I’ve got enough dress clothes to get through any road trip.” I leaned closer, and Austin tilted an ear in my direction so I could share a secret. “It doesn’t mean I like it though. Give me comfortable jeans and a T-shirt any day.”
Austin looked intensely at me. His light brown eyes, that I now had a good look at, were gorgeous. He raised his glass. “To casual clothes.” I clinked mine against it, and we took a drink. “So what does All-Star week mean for you? I was thrilled you finally got picked.”
�
�Thanks, man. I don’t think the full impact of it has hit yet. Having my mom, brother, and his fiancé in the stands tomorrow as I skate in the skills competition is… I don’t know what. Not to mention…”
The phone vibrated against the bar top, and he acted like he’d ignore it, but he ultimately flipped it over. He sighed as he looked between the phone and me. “I should take this. Sorry.”
I nodded. “I should go. I’m meeting up with my fam early. Are you coming to the auction?”
Austin answered the call and said, “Hold on one second.” He tapped the screen, presumably to mute, and fixed me with a disappointed look that crinkled up his face. “For sure, and I’ll be around the events tomorrow too.”
“Cool. We’ll run into each other then.”
“Look forward to it.” A shy smile crossed his lips for a fleeting moment before he tapped the phone screen again. He popped in his ear buds and started talking.
I downed the rest of my ginger ale, left money on the bar, and waved to Austin. He didn’t acknowledge it because his screen had his full attention. Thank God my job didn’t have me tied to a phone. Dragging my work around everywhere would make me insane, especially if I had to pick hanging with friends and family over a phone call.
Four
Austin
Kyle Pressgrove stuck in my head—that quirky smile, the broad shoulders, and the fine hairs that dusted the back of his hand and trailed up to his wrist where they disappeared under the sleeve of the Henley he wore.
But we couldn’t even share a full drink without my damn phone interrupting. My reflexes kicked in, and I answered.
Our brief conversation went well, despite my heart thumping away double time because this sexy superstar—my crush for years—sat next to me.
I’d had the chance to make more of a connection before the auction—and I blew it.
