Chapter 1

**July 2016**

Ethan hates going to these events. They make him anxious, there are too many cameras and people, and it all feels so fake. He doesn’t get why he can’t just focus on hockey. He’s not an actor, he’s not a performer, he’s an athlete. But, he won last year’s The Apex Sports award for MHC Player of the Year, and the precedent is for the previous winner to announce this year’s winner, so. He’s here. At the The Apex Sports’s. In a ridiculously expensive suit and watch. To present the award. For MHC Player of the Year.

He knows he’s being clingy with Jasper. Jasper is up for the award, which is nice, Ethan supposes. He hopes he wins. Ethan’s mom is his date, which feels kind of lame, but she had been elated when he’d asked her. She’s off mingling, probably getting some new brand deal for Ethan or something. She thrives in these environments. Ethan wishes he had inherited even an ounce of that. No, instead he’s hanging onto Jasper like a lost puppy, forcing a smile that probably looks pained as disorienting flashes of cameras interrupt his vision.

“Ethan, over here!” A photographer calls out, and then he’s blinded by another array of photos. “One on your own, Ethan,” someone else calls, and Jasper steps away from him, letting the photographer get his solo shot of Ethan.

God, this is annoying. Maybe it’s his anxiety or maybe it’s the camera flashes, but he’s disoriented, and when he turns to step away, he walks right into someone. Someone big and muscular, someone who smells like nice cologne, a sexy, spicy woodsy smell that Ethan could never pull off.

“God, fuck,” Ethan grunts, stepping back. “I’m so sor-“ the words die on his tongue as he looks up at the man who is smirking down at him. Holy shit. He’s stunning. His eyes are piercing, his hair is curly but slicked back, and he’s in a black suit jacket on top of a burgundy silk shirt that’s unbuttoned far too much, almost down to his mid chest, where Ethan can spot a smattering of blonde hair.

“Is okay. You alright?” The man asks, and he has an accent, thick and from Eastern Voroslavic Region. Ethan wonders what sport he plays.

“Yeah, ah. Sorry. Just a lot going on,” he says awkwardly.

“Mm. Yes,” the man nods, agreeing, looking around briefly.

“Ethan Voss,” he says, sticking his hand out.

The man takes it in his big, firm hand and shakes it. “Nikolai Vasiliev,” he answers.

Ethan isn’t sure how or when it happened, but they’re no longer right in the middle of the red carpet. Nikolai Vasiliev has somehow guided them off to the side in a slightly quieter area, no longer in front of the backdrop of Apex Broadcast Network logos and sponsors.

“Hi. Uh, sorry I almost walked into you,” he says.

Nikolai smiles. “You already said sorry. Is okay. You are not very big. Didn’t even hurt,” he says.

Ethan sort of scoffs at that, because what? Okay sure, he doesn’t have the bulk of a football player or the height of a basketball player, but he isn’t **small.**

“You are hockey player, yes?” Nikolai asks.

Ethan nods. “Yeah. Uh, yeah. Was the 2015 Player of the Year so I have to present the award,” he says.

Nikolai raises his eyebrows and does a sort of mock impressed face, pursing his lips. “Wow.”

“Sorry. I hate these things. I hate cameras,” he says.

Nikolai laughs at that, but Ethan isn’t sure why.

“Uh, what do you play? Sorry, I just… I haven’t heard of you. Not that that’s uh… I just really only follow hockey so…“ Great. Now he’s probably offended the guy. Good going, Voss. Meet some athlete who looks like he was carved out of marble, and you tell him you don’t even know who he is.

Nikolai smirks at him again, and it’s so condescending, so sexy, fuck. “No. I am not athlete,” he says.

“No way,” Ethan says, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t fuck with me, c’mon. What team are you on?”

Nikolai doesn’t laugh. “I am not fucking with you. I’m here as date.”

Ethan’s face goes slack. “So you just…“ he gestures vaguely at Nikolai’s chest. “Look like that.”

“Like what?” Nikolai asks, and he’s grinning again. He has nice teeth.

“I don’t-“ Ethan stammers for a moment. “I. Just. You’re uh… fit.”

“Ah,” Nikolai says, as if he didn’t already know what Ethan was implying. “You are too kind. But no, I’m here with someone. Not athlete.”

Ethan nods. “Who are you here with?” He asks, ignoring how demanding it sounds.

“Lina Karim. Boxer,” he says, still fucking smirking.

Ethan has heard of her. She’s great, apparently. “Oh. So you’re her…“

“Friend,” Nikolai finishes.

“Right.”

“Ethan!” A voice calls out, and Ethan spins to see Jasper jogging up. “Hey man, I was looking for you. Someone wants an interview with both of-“ he stops mid sentence, looking over to Nikolai.

“Wow,” Jasper says.

Well. At least Nikolai’s looks hadn’t only been disarming to Ethan.

“Hello,” Nikolai says, holding his hand out. How is he so collected during all of this?

Jasper is hesitant as he shakes it. “Jasper Reed. Uh. Right. So… Ethan. Interview?”

“Yeah,” Ethan nods, but he’s only looking at Nikolai. “Sorry, uh. I gotta go. Was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Ethan Voss,” Nikolai says, and Ethan memorizes exactly how his name sounds on Nikolai’s lips.

“Holy shit, dude,” Jasper whispers, too loudly, as he pulls Ethan away. “No way you were just talking to Nikolai Vasiliev.”

“Uh, yeah. We just met. Wait, did he lie to me?” Ethan asks, looking back over his shoulder where Nikolai is now standing next to a short but very muscular woman with long black hair. “What does he play?”

Jasper stops, so Ethan does too.

“You don’t know who that was?”

Ethan makes a face that says ‘no shit’, and waits for an answer.

“Dude. You are so innocent. Nikolai Vasiliev, ‘The Voroslav Federation Love Legend’?” Jasper says, like it’s obvious.

Ethan looks at him blankly, and then Jasper laughs. Not like, a chuckle. He full on cackles, bending over like he can’t even contain it. “Man, he’s like prolific.”

“At what?” Ethan snaps, because he’s getting really sick of not being in on the joke.

“He’s a porn star, man.”

“A-“ Ethan says, swallowing thickly. “What?”

“He’s slept with like… everyone, man. Mia Rainer, Luna Blake, oh my **god,”**Jasper groans. “His MILF stuff with Kira Tanaka was insane.”

“I don’t… know who any of those people are,” Ethan says. Is he supposed to have a list of porn stars memorized? Why does Jasper? Ew. Ethan is suddenly very grateful the MHC is good about providing them their own hotel rooms typically.

“Christ. Let’s go do this interview,” Jasper says, and Ethan has to answer questions about hockey while thinking about how there are probably dozens if not more videos of Nikolai Vasiliev, the man he just shook hands with, fucking people on the internet. Right.

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