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Chris
No doubt about it – Chris felt terrible. Matt had been nothing but friendly with him, and this was how Chris acted? He didn’t know why he’d bought into Darren’s dumb-ass story anyway. Sure, if Matt kissed him in public then Chris would probably see a few headlines about it, but... man. It was 2017, and he saw a lot of girls anyway.
He cleared his throat, finding that his mind stuck on the image of being kissed by Matt a little more than he anticipated.
Whatever he thought about, it was tinged with guilt. Hopefully there’d be some way he could make this up to the journalist. What a childish and puerile response. He didn’t doubt that Matt was telling the truth, and that his account for Sports Illustrated would be professional enough to exclude this exchange – but he couldn’t help but feel that he deserved a bad write-up now.
When Matt came back in, Chris was ready and willing to work as hard as he needed to in order to bring the tone back to the friendly way they had interacted yesterday. In fact, he had already ordered both of them the set three-course menu that Matt had been interested in trying – and he had planned on picking up the bill, too.
If it looked like a date, then so be it.
“Hey,” he said, as Matt took a seat. The journalist looked wary, and another cringing flood of guilt washed over Chris. “I’m really sorry, man. He just... got into my head, I guess. He was talking about how it might affect my career if somebody got the wrong idea, and it made me think of what you said about gay athletes, and...” He shook his head, and scrubbed a hand over his forehead. “Look, I apologize. I’m talking too much. I’m just sorry. I hope we can start over.”
When he glanced up at Matt, as nervous as he might be before a big game, he saw that there was acceptance on the journalist’s face, and relief replaced the guilt.
Well. Not all of it, but some.
“Don’t worry about it,” Matt told him. “I know what you mean. ‘Guilty by association’, right? It happens, but... it won’t in this case. Honest.”
“I ordered us the set menu,” Chris pressed, keen for Matt to see that he was really as sorry as he sounded. “So, uh... hopefully, if you don’t mind spending the time...”
A small smile spread across Matt’s face, cutting into the seriousness of his expression. “Absolutely. Alright.”
It was like a fog had lifted. Once they got over the initial awkwardness of Chris’s unkind transgression, it was like they’d never stopped talking yesterday. Matt was the kind of person who could relax you easily. He had a lot to say, but he listened well too; he was completely different to everybody else that Chris interacted with on a regular basis.
Even just that alone would make him good company for the next three weeks. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his teammates or the Rangers staff, of course – but the change in pace was refreshing. The way his eyes lit up when he was laughing was charming. The way he analyzed games was free of the pro-Ranger bias that Chris was used to, and as such Matt’s compliments and positive judgments felt much more meaningful than anybody else’s.
He was sweet, dry-humored and funny. And every now and then, when he swept his hair back off his face, a glass of wine held delicately in his hand, he became something more than good company.
What exactly that thing was, Chris wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt disappointed when their towering chocolate cake of a dessert arrived, knowing that the end of the meal was close. Was that normal? Were you supposed to develop such an easy, open rapport with a journalist who could skewer you – who your teammates didn’t like?
Matt answered this question for him when, after a period of time they’d spent laughing far too liberally for a public space, he waved a hand and insisted - “You know, your manager’s going to kill you if he thinks you’re fraternizing with me like this. You’re supposed to give me your best poker face.”
“What – really?”
Matt rolled his eyes, giving Chris a cute, lopsided smile.
Wait. Cute?
“I mean... technically. It’s stupid, really. I mean. If a journalist likes you, they’re way likelier to go easy on you if something crazy does happen. In theory, you know?” Maybe the wine had gotten to Matt a little. They had split a couple of bottles between them. “But hey. That’s sports management for you. They think they know best. All that secretive shit. I don’t know. Let’s just talk to each other, you know?”
“Right, right.” Chris nodded, eager to jump on that point. “Open communication. None of this political bullshit.”
Matt pointed at him. “Absolutely that. It’s not about... you know, not talking to me because I once sat with the Penguins at a charity event, you know? It’s about... just... the game. It’s about the sport.”
“This is why I like you,” Chris informed him, though in truth he knew there were several reasons. “You just – you say the right things.”
Matt grinned. Again, the word cute popped into Chris’s head – but more prominent, this time. More dangerous. He knew, immediately, that he wanted to keep spending time with Matt. To keep looking at him. It wasn’t just tonight. Presumably, Darren would think of that as some gay witchcraft, or something. It was certainly new, but it felt very real. He just liked the guy.
Was there anything really wrong with that? He was nice. You didn’t have to be gay in order to like someone.
But now his thoughts were getting muddled.
“Well, that’s good, though,” said Matt. “I like you too. This is going to be a fun three weeks. We’ll have a good time.”
“Definitely.”
They clinked their glasses, downing the rest of the last bottle. Wine wasn’t usually Chris’s tipple, but it had certainly got into his head tonight. It had made the food taste better, and the conversation flow easier. Or maybe that was just Matt. Even though Chris knew that the other Rangers were out drinking right now, he didn’t feel like he’d missed out. Initially, when he claimed that he was too busy for the full three courses, he had been intending to join them. Maybe they’d be wondering where he was.
Right now, though Chris didn’t really care. They could have fun there, and he could have fun here. He was having fun here, in fact.
It seemed a shame that the night should have to end.
“Hey,” said Matt. “Here’s a question. Since, uh... your teammates clearly don’t like me... do you think I’ll still be able to accompany you guys to the press events?”
Chris pulled a face, as though this was a crazy question. “What; are you kidding? Of course you will. Screw it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he insisted, tucking into the rest of his chocolate cake. “They’re nice guys deep down, but obviously they’ve just got some kind of problem, and... it’s a stupid problem, so it shouldn’t stop you from doing your job.”
“I agree,” said Matt. “But I don’t want to make things hard for you.”
Chris shook his head, finishing his mouthful before he spoke. “I’ll deal with it. If you have to deal with it, then so do I.”
The show of solidarity seemed to appeal to Matt. Another big smile spread across his face – and this time, Chris knew he saw something brighter in his eyes. Something more than a professional attempt to bond with a journalism subject. Something sincere, that transgressed the boundaries of friendship.
“Thanks,” said Matt, simply. The single word couldn’t carry the same weight as his facial expression – but then, nothing else could.
It was now or never.
Chris swallowed, and gestured at Matt with the fork. “Hey. Since we’re nearly done. Instead of... you know. Where are you staying? What hotel?”
“Park Hyatt.”
“Okay,” said Chris, flapping a hand. “Instead of – don’t go back there. You should come have drinks at my place. Not far from here. Talk more.”
“Really?”
Chris nodded, trying to convey some of his answer in his eyes before he spoke. Matt’s eyes were so expressive. Were human eyes normally that expressive? “Sure. I’ve got plenty in. Some wine – mostly beer. It’s still early, right?”
“Uh-huh. Well... yeah, then. If that’s okay, I’d like that.”
He was even happier about that answer than he had expected, grinning at Matt as the waiter came over to clear their glasses and plates. “Great,” he said eventually, once they had the privacy of an empty table again. “Well – yeah. Great.”
If there was already the promise of something unexpected on the cards, then Chris had yet to realize it. His attention was still focused on the warmth of the evening, and the strength of this new friendship, and the intensity of Matt’s handsome brown eyes.
