Chapter 2

Then he schooled his face in a flash, back to stoic and Veskan.

"Untrue, I think the last thing I said was, 'Show me, I'm not sure you can take this—"

Grant audibly groaned, but Finn snickered, covering his eyes with his hand.

"God, stop, it's like being haunted by the ghost of grindr-notifications-past," he turned to Grant, gripping his knee in earnest now, "Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you don't text like you're a twelve year old who just found out about sex?

Really, I owe you a life debt."

Grant turned a little pink and Finn wanted to kiss him, but he could only bask in the glow for a second before Maksim Orlov was ready to quip back.

"Yeah, but that was before when you were worried about your texts leaking, right, Whitmore?

Now he's free to text you 'send ass pics' like the rest of us."

"Look, Buddy—" Grant started.

'Look, Buddy' Finn thought, aghast, I really have to teach Grant some better comebacks if he's ever going to survive a night with my friends from college.

"—quit saying gross shit and be professional for once in your life."

Maksim held his hands up, innocent.

He looked at Finn.

"You got me in trouble with grandpa," He said in a stage whisper, perfectly audible.

Finn snorted and Grant looked at him like he had shot a puppy for laughing at another one of Orlov's bits.

He quickly looked down at his plate.

Only two hours and 40 minutes to go.

There was a first course.

It was mushy, and green.

It smelled weird.

Finn took three polite bites.

Grant didn't even try it.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maksim snap a picture of it and then shove it away from him like it offended him.

Finn sat quietly while everyone talked about the league, and management, and play styles, and he only wanted to die a little bit.

Two hours and 10 minutes to go.

Grant got up to greet some sponsors in between the first and second courses, while the plates were being cleared, and Maksim leaned back in his chair like he was waiting for him to disappear before addressing Finn again.

"So, have your all your boyfriends been boring and old, boring and old is your type?"

"I'm flattered, Maksim, but I really am quite taken."

"No," Maksim said, but not in a way that implied he was at all upset that Finn had said he was hitting on him.

He sounded dreJune, wistful as he finished, "No, just asking because it turns out boring is also my type."

Finn raised his eyebrows at him.

"So it's never going to work out between us, Finn, you're too interesting.

Sorry to break your heart this way.

Feel free to get off to my pictures for the rest of time."

"Woe is me," Finn replied, flatly, no emotion at all on his face.

He was intrigued though, "Your type is boring?"

"Yes, my plus-one went to sleep," Maksim said, gesturing to his phone.

It hadn't occurred to Finn that he hadn't used pronouns for whoever Maksim was sexting yet up into this moment — he had lots of queer and trans friends, lots of bi friends, and he normally just kept it generic for sake of the joke landing.

He hated getting a correction instead of a laugh.

But it was unusual that Maksim wasn't going out of his way to say 'she, she, she' like most guys would be.

He didn't know-know but now...

Finn knew.

There was something unknowable about sexuality, the concept of gaydar always seemed a little silly, but... sometimes you could just tell, if you were dialed in enough.

Not for everyone, not all the time.

With Maksim, Finn could just tell.

This was not a straight man.He wouldn't say anything, he remembered how in pain Grant was about being in closeted.

He remembered how in pain he was.

But that didn't mean he couldn't play a little. Finn grinned at him, "Wow, wouldn't come to the three hour Marriott dinner and went to bed without calling you to say goodnight?

You might have to take this one off the roster.

Did you at least get those ass pics?"

Maksim muttered something but Finn didn't catch it.

"I'll take that as a no. Tough break, bud.

You want my old Arden hookup's numbers, you could try something..

new...

Maksim glared at him, and Finn felt like he could feel all the responses Maksim wanted to say radiating off him.It was taking him just a beat too long, Finn assumed because he was shoving away his favorite and most clever replies to find something suitably hetero.

And also because Finn thought Maksim wanted to be seen.

He'd been closeted more than once (you never really stop coming out) and there was something about being seen for who he was, being known by the older gay kids, the way even at Petal+Bean Chloe knew to start gossiping with him about boys.

It felt good, to be known.

How much part of him wanted to say "I'm like you!" when walking around with Grant, incognito.

But that longing for connection meant Maksim couldn't chirp back fast enough, couldn't shut him down effectively.

Finn grinned, smug, like if there was ever going to be a confirmation he was teasing in the right direction it was this silence. Orlov 0-Adler 1 he congratulated himself in his head.

The next two courses passed as slowly as the first, weird textures and sauces and nothing was good.

Finn busied himself by seeing how far he could drag the tip of his shoe up Grant's calf before he got a reaction.

It didn't take much.

He loved him so much, Grant's flushed little red ears, the easy way he answered all these boring questions.

Finn could already imagine the after party, the two of them in some ridiculous hotel jacuzzi, then some ridiculous hotel bathrobes.

They only had 20 minutes left, they were so close to freedom Finn could taste it.

They were also going to need ridiculous hotel room service, judging by the look of this entree.

"Why can't they just serve burgers at these things," Finn moaned, but Grant's attention was getting taken away by a sponsor who was shaking his hand.

"Half the guys wouldn't eat them anyway," Maksim said, shoving his mush away again, "Macros.

Protein.

Too many carbs.

Cauliflower rice."

Finn rolled his eyes.

"What's the point of the big tough macho guy reputation hockey has if you aren't even going to get served a steak?

I thought people only did all this shit so they could be ripped and still eat pasta."

Maksim stuck a spoon in his mush and smelled it, dumping it back on his plate without eating it.

"After this I will order 200 dollars of room service and charge it all to the league."

"Yeah, they don't pay you enough to cover it yourself.

I'm sure your wallet is really hurting."

Maksim grinned at him, crooked.

"I know, is so hard.

I feel bad for Whitmore, has to pimp himself out for razors and get naked on Athletic Weekly just to make ends meet."

Grant returned to the table then, dark eyebrows drawn, annoyed.

"Wow, very accurate list Grant's recent photoshoots, Maksim.

Should I be worried?

You got a little crush?"

Finn grinned at him, innocently.

He knew he was being a little shit.

"No," Grant said slipping back into his chair, running his hand down Finn's back.

Finn couldn't help beaming at him, sincerely this time.

It was silly, he was just kidding, but the fact that Grant really meant it, that someone as hot as Maksim Orlov hitting on him wouldn't even enter his imagination because he was with Finn—it was hot.

Finn held his hand because that was all he was allowed to do right now.

"Wow, no consideration for my fake feelings, Whitmore?

What if I had been in love since I was a little baby rookie, hm?

What if I cried myself to sleep tonight?

I thought you cared about the community." Maksim asked, grinning.

"I hope you do cry yourself to sleep, Orlov."

Maksim sighed, looking at Grant with true disappointment, "You should let your boyfriend teach you how to chirp, Whitmore, would make beating you actually fun."

Grant blinked, like he was trying to calculate a response to this insult to him that was wrapped in the compliment for Finn.

Finn saw an opening and he decided to take it.

"You know they always said you were an asshole, Maksim, but I can see what you really are," Finn let the set up linger, not long enough to be actually scary, but enough to see the intake of breath from both Orlov and Grant.

He wasn't going to out Maksim—how could he? he had nothing but vibes, really—but the brace for impact was as good as a pride sticker as far as obviousness went.It was only a beat or two of silence but it was very tense.

Grant had seized up too, which made Finn feel like he suspected Maksim wasn't straight also, which was rude of him.

He wasn't going to tell Finn this excellent gossip?