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Kip Grady was seeing red and pink all over.
It was like the whole student body of New York University unilaterally decided that celebrating this capitalistic holiday was a must this year, but Kip Grady was found dateless and wearing black this Valentine’s Day. Symbolic to his probably dying dating life.
“You got plans tonight, Professor Grady?” Maria, Kip’s TA, asked as she started filing out the lecture hall with the rest of the class.
“Yeah, a bottle of beer and all these paperwork to grade,” Kip replied while packing his bag just as another student came up to turn in his work, with the title ‘Why Van Gogh cut his ear off.’ Kip turned back to Maria, “Make that a pack of beer.”
“You’re an art history professor, aren’t you supposed to be the crème de la crème of the artist dating pool? Or are those sculptors?” Maria walked away while wiggling her eyebrows as she mimicked that one scene from Ghost, “You should go out tonight. As my mentor, you’re not setting a very good example for me.”
“Bye, Maria,” Kip fondly shook his head at Maria’s ridiculousness.
“See ya, teach.”
Truthfully, he can go out tonight. His friend, Elena, did invite him to go to their usual hangout. Sure, he won’t be meeting anyone to date. The bar was mostly a get together spot and if someone even tried to make a move on him and his friends, the bar tender would kindly escort them out, already hyper aware of how some men make the group uncomfortable. Mainly the pushy ones with fragile masculinity.
He was getting ready to dial Elena on his phone as he turned the lights off at the lecture hall, but within the next few seconds, Kip would find himself soaked in a very pink drink smelling like cotton candy and what must consist of a bucket of sugar based on how sticky he felt.
He heard a chorus of oh shits and laughter and damn bro and the young student frantically apologizing and dabbing him with stiff paper. Turns out it was the girl’s English paper according to her friend, which then led the drink spiller running to the restroom to deal with her mess, all while screaming her sorrys, until she faded away.
Perfect. Just perfect.
After cleaning himself off in the restroom, he pulled out his phone and found a message from Elena:
>Rain check on the beer babes xx. Sorry. Not trading you for a date, just deadline and mean bosses :(
Well, maybe that beer and night with grading papers is actually what the universe had set out for him. He’ll just order in, maybe some Chinese food, leave a few drops of orange chicken sauce on students’ papers who are just going to throw it out after receiving their grade. It’s just another Friday night. No big deal.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and saw his dad calling.
“Hey, bud! I— you. How are—doing?”
“Dad? You’re cutting off,” Kip said. How a call was cutting off even possible in this day and age when cell towers are everywhere in this country, probably meant that Kip’s dad found the most secluded cabin to go on his fishing trip.
“Sorry, bad service. Just wanted to—Happy—Day! Don’t coop up at home tonight. Go out—date or something. Or one night stand, is that what you kids do these days?”
“Ew, dad.”
“Just stay safe—use protection.”
“The call is cutting off! I love you, bye!” Kip said and smiled when his dad said it back. As much as he and his father might have a few bickering, Kip was grateful for his dad always being there for him. He was probably one of the few lucky ones where he didn’t have a hard time coming out to their dads. Well, maybe that was speaking about it lightly. He did get the most torturous speech of the birds and the bees an hour after coming out, with his dad handing him printed out information about safe sex and importance of regular testing.
As he stepped off the school building, he passed by the crowded fountain in Washington Square Park, and started digging in his pockets for a coin. Just like the school, almost everyone around the park were wearing shades of red and pink, walking in pairs and chained to their partners. Buskers knew no other song except love songs. The cold air was almost intoxicating with the smell of roses.
He pulled out a quarter and closed his eyes. Maybe do me a solid and let me have someone next year?
He turned around and threw the coin over his head into the fountain.
But instead of the sound of water splashing, he heard a loud exclamation.
“Ow!” Kip turned around frantically and just his luck, he saw a man rubbing his forehead, standing exactly at the trajectory of Kip’s coin.
He ran up to the man, “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“Geez, man, were you trying to take someone out?”
“I’m bitter and single on Valentine’s Day, I guess I subconsciously was.”
The man laughed and finally revealed the welt the coin has cause on the man’s…very pretty face. Kip had to physically stop himself from reaching over to touch the man’s forehead because who knows what other parts of the man’s godlike face will Kip’s subconscious caress?
“Is it bad?” The man asked, grimacing but also slightly grinning.
“You’ll probably need ice,” Kip looked around to see who could be selling ice in a park. All he saw was a hotdog vendor. “Come on.”
“Are you buying me a hotdog to bribe for my forgiveness?”
“Will that work?”
The man shrugged, “We’ll find out.”
After buying a cold bottle of water to hold onto the growing bump on the man’s head and a hotdog to feed him, Kip doesn’t know why he stayed for a second longer to watch the stranger take a bite off the hotdog. Or why Kip felt something in his stomach.
“Am I forgiven?” Kip asked.
“Definitely,” the man said with a full mouth of food. “Where’s yours?”
“I’m not really in the mood for hotdogs.”
The man gasped, “You’re gonna say that in front of my friend—“ The man looked at the hotdog vendor and waited for him to say his name.
“Saul.”
“Saul! You’re gonna say that you’re not in the mood for a hotdog in front of my good friend, Saul?”
Kip scoffed, “Am I being scammed?”
“No, being scammed means getting a bad result from something,” The stranger pulled out a twenty dollar bill and bought Kip a hotdog, then told Saul to keep the change. “Buying a hotdog from Saul is anything but bad.”
Kip rolled his eyes and took a bite of his hotdog, feeling slightly embarrassed with the way the stranger was watching him. God, was he this obvious watching the stranger earlier too?
“So tell me, what was the wish that was potentially fatal?” The stranger asked after they fell into a comfortable silence while eating.
“I fear it’s a little too much to tell a stranger,” Kip replied. He felt slightly proud as he saw that his bait worked when the stranger outstretched his hand.
“Scott.”
“Kip.”
“Kip,” the stranger—Scott—repeated, popping his lips at the end. “Is Kip short for something?”
Kip raised an eyebrow, “First my wish, now my real name. Why do you wanna know so much about me? Are you a murderer?”
Scott laughed again. It felt like honey, how rich and thick the sound he made. “First a scammer, now a murderer. What else will you accuse me of, Kip?”
“Well, a pretty face doesn’t always mean they have good intentions behind it.”
Shit. Did Kip go too far? Great, leave it to Kip to make a hot, probably straight, man uncomfortable.
The awkwardness thankfully was interrupted when Scott’s phone rang, “Hey, yeah. Sorry, just stepped out for some air. I’m on my way back.”
Scott looked at Kip and started to back away, “It was nice to meet you, Kip.”
Kip nodded, “You too, Scott. And sorry again for the mark.”
Scott smiled and shrugged, “I’ve had worse. Probably won’t be as memorable as this though.”
“Memorable, huh? Good to know my wish didn’t cause a concussion.”
Scott laughed again and waved his goodbye. Before he turned around, Kip saw the small print on Scott’s red sweater: ‘New York Admirals.’
Probably a hockey fan like his Kip’s dad.
•••
Kip was actually buzzing with excitement as he walked around the art exhibition of his favorite artist, lucky enough to be able to score tickets that sold out faster than a current boy band concert tickets. Kip may never be able to produce such breathtaking art, but he’s confident in his skills to dissect an artwork, discuss about the feelings the artist may have had during the process of painting, and name all the paint possibly used in the work, but he could never afford the art and can just be around the vicinity of it.
That’s why his head thought his ears betrayed him when he heard a familiar voice walk up to him and ask, “Which one are you buying?”
“Scott?”
Scott’s face visibly lit up, “You remember my name?”
The art professor flushed and quickly tried to make amends, “Sorry, I have this weird thing about remembering people’s names very well.”
“Aww,” Scott feigned hurt, “Just when I thought I was special.” Kip was about to remind him his name when Scott cut him off. “It’s Kip, I know. I never said I didn’t remember yours.”
There was something about Scott that can easily change the trajectory of Kip’s bloodstream because he can be flushing one second and blushing the next.
“So, are you thinking of buying?”
Scott was welcomed with an incredulous look from Kip. “What do you think I do for a living?”
“A model?”
Kip shivered and had to force himself to focus, “I don’t think I have the height requirements for that. Or the face.”
Scott simply hummed in response. Neither agreeing nor denying, making Kip even more curious. “Glad that coin didn’t leave a mark on your face.”
It had been a week since they first met. He had mentioned to his friends about what had happened in the park, and may have mentioned how handsome Scott was to his regret, because it definitely caused an eruption in his friend group about not asking Scott for his number. Kip is sure it would cause another uproar once he mentions coincidentally meeting Scott again (or in his friend Elena’s case, be warned about stalkers).
Scott knocked on his head, “Yeah, no mark. I have a pretty strong head.”
They both fell into silence again, this time looking at the painting displayed. About a foot of space between their shoulders. Kip was so entranced by the painting that he didn’t see Scott stealing multiple glances at him.
“I’ve been in love with this painting forever,” Kip mumbled.
“Huh?”
“This painting. I think I’ve looked at her website almost everyday ever since the artist uploaded a picture of it. I never thought I’d see it in person.”
Scott nodded. “What do you love about it?”
“I think it’s the way it makes me feel.”
“What does it make you feel?” Kip turned to look at Scott. He barely knew this man, but Kip can see the genuine curiosity Scott had for him.
“Everything. The good and bad.”
Scott just hummed again. Then cleared his throat before saying something that made Kip’s jaw drop. “I’m actually buying this painting.”
“What do you do for a living?”
Scott chuckled, “Well, not a scammer or a murderer.”
“Yeah, that’s just a side hustle.”
“Exactly.”
They both laughed low, as if sharing a secret no one else would get. Deserve to get.
“So?” Kip asked, “I feel like I have to know that this painting will go into good hands and not just someone that will resell it.”
Scott shook his head, still with a smile on his face, “Nah. I have a perfect spot for it at home. A little hallway that doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic from guests, but something I will see everyday.”
“Selfish,” Kip threw.
“Private,” Scott corrected. After a few beats, “Hockey.”
“Huh?”
“Hockey. I play hockey.”
“For the New York Admirals,” Kip kept his voice low to avoid any possible crazy fans to know about Scott’s whereabouts.
“You remember?”
“I saw your sweater from last time. I figured you’d probably wear your own team’s sweater than wear a rival team’s merch.”
“Observant and smart,” Scott commended. “You must be a…teacher?”
“Professor, yeah,” Kip responded. It’s no hockey player, but he knows damn well the honor of carrying that title too.
“Wow!” Scott exclaimed, making a few people around them look, “What do you teach?”
“Art history.”
Scott had a twinkle in his eye, “So tell me, am I making the right decision in buying this piece?”
“Absolutely.”
Scott was eyeing the measurements of the painting and then asked, “Great. You think you can help me bring it home?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t live far. Just a few blocks away,” Scott promised, like it’s the only semantic that Kip was worried about.
“You do know there are people that would deliver this for you, right? They’ll even present it with white gloves and everything.”
“Yeah, but that would be in one to two business days. It’s Friday today.”
Kip scoffed, “That’s a crazy ask.”
Scott simply shrugged, “I’m impatient. Besides, I’ve waited long enough for this.”
Kip held Scott’s gaze for a moment. He doesn’t know why he’s actually contemplating helping. Maybe it’s the absurdity of it or maybe it’s because he doesn’t really have anything else planned for the rest of the afternoon. The next sentence that came out of Scott’s mouth was actually what sold Kip.
“In return, you can visit the painting in person as much as you want.”
“Even at 2 in the morning?” Kip jokingly challenged.
Instead, Scott returned with the most serious response. “I have a spare key under the doormat for you.”
“You’re insane. Fuck, you probably are a murderer, huh?”
Scott laughed, “I wouldn’t dare risk blood splatter on this painting.”
For as much as they joked about gore, Kip didn’t feel an ounce of fear toward Scott. Not in the murderous way, anyway. He almost felt safe. So much so that it actually hurt his heart.
“Mr. Hunter would you like to see more of the artist’s collection?” The curator had approached them, standing on Scott’s right. Oddly enough, Scott avoided eye contact with the lady and only kept his eyes on the man on his left as he said, “No need. We’ll take this.”
After paying a large sum and maneuvering the newly purchased artwork around the narrow staircase, Kip and Scott were trekking on foot towards Scott’s apartment.
Scott’s apartment was the penthouse of the building. There were not many furniture or decor around the apartment aside from a large television, some seating, and a sleek shelf that encased Scott’s awards from his time as a hockey player from middle school to being on the official league. Kip mentally laughed at his own audacity for his subconscious expecting to actually be able to visit this apartment as much as he wants because why on earth did he feel at home?
They’ve placed the painting on the floor resting by the wall. Kip found himself doing the same and sat on the floor, admiring how the painting actually does feel at home in Scott’s place. It brought warmth to his apartment, like a sun finally radiating to a place unfamiliar. He felt Scott sit next to him.
Kip leaned back and looked around, “Is there anyone else who gets to admire this painting?”
“Daily? Aside from myself, no.” Scott was so close Kip could smell his perfume and it reminded Kip of something that he couldn’t quite place. “And you, of course.”
Kip snorted, “You can’t be serious about that.”
Scott took out his keys and started unhooking a brass key from the ring and then presented it to Kip like a prize. It was almost silly how Scott’s faced turned into surprise and a hint of panic when Kip held his hands and lowered them in refusal.
“I appreciate the offer, but why don’t you start slow? You’re literally inviting a stranger into your home unsupervised.”
“But you’re not a stranger. You’re Kip.”
“What does Kip stand for? My parents weren’t total wackos to actually name me that, you know,” Kip challenged.
“Christopher.” It felt like a scratch in his head the way Scott said his name. The way it felt to naturally roll of his tongue gave Kip a feeling he was scared to explore.
“How’d you know?”
“Wild guess,” Scott said with a straight face. He offered the key one more time.
And this time, Kip took it.
Scott barely nodded, scared that they were on thin ice and a sudden movement would break it and Kip would wake up with realization. “Can I buy you food? To thank you for helping me bring this painting.”
Kip laughed, he was already putting Scott’s key into his own keyring, “This isn’t thank you enough?”
“Do you like Mexican food?”
“Of course, but…” The look on Scott’s face was as if Kip took away any hope from the hockey player. It hurt Kip so much he had to scramble to explain, “I have plans to eat dinner with my dad!”
Scott sighed in relief. It was faint, but not amiss to Kip.
They both got up from the floor as Kip made his way to the door. He stopped when he remembered, “You should give me your phone number, so I can let you know before coming over and I don’t disrupt you walking around in your briefs. Or your personal assistant’s or manager? Is that who athletes have?”
Scott laughed as he put a phone number into Kip’s phone, “That’s mine. Athletes can have both. And how’d you know I’m a briefs type of guy?”
Kip felt himself blush, “I don’t know. Wild guess.”
He needed to get out of here fast before he said anything else stupid. They bid his farewell, but as he stepped a foot out of the door, he heard Scott call out to him.
“Hey, uh, Kip?”
“Yeah?”
“When you said you love the good and bad parts about the painting…would you still love it if there were more bad than good?”
“With this one?” Kip glanced at the painting. “Unconditionally.”
Later that evening, he received a message from Scott Hunter, who must’ve used Kip’s phone to ring his own to save the professor’s number. He opened the message and it was just an image of the painting, hanging in the living room instead of the hallway they first talked about.
•••
>I think it’s getting tired of just seeing my face.
“What are you smiling about?” Elena asked as she watched Kip read his message.
“No one,” Kip responded absentmindedly, his focus on how to reply to Scott.
“So it’s a guy.”
“What?”
“You said no one instead of nothing.”
“I meant ‘nothing.’”
Elena gave Kip her “don’t give me that bullshit look” and the man cursed how easily he fesses up to that face.
“It’s the guy I hit with my coin, remember, Valentine’s Day? I happened to meet him again at this art show and he invited me over his place to see the painting I love and we’ve just exchanged some messages since then.”
“He invited you over to his place? What, did you guys sleep together too or something?”
“No,” Kip deadpanned, “it was very PG. Besides, he’s probably just looking for a buddy or something.”
“A buddy.”
Kip shrugged, “He’s probably straight.”
“Whoah, Kip Grady assuming someone’s sexuality in this day and age?” Elena teased.
Kip shook his head, “He’s a hockey player—”
“Huh.”
“—and I doubt that, even if he is queer, that he’d be comfortable being seen with…”
“You?”
“A man.”
Elena took Kip’s hands, “So find out.”
Kip doesn’t know why he’s scared. Either way, Scott seems like a great guy and Kip could get a friend out of this or maybe more.
He picked his phone up and messaged back,
>Can I visit today?
>>I’ll wear my pants. Scott replied.
Elena watched as her friend lit up reading his messages. She was glad to see him finally feeling like this again. A look she hasn’t seen in ages.
•••
“Hi!” Scott said as he opened the door to his apartment. He was dressed in sweatpants and had a reusable shopping bag on his shoulder.
“Oh. Are you on your way out?” Kip asked as he was welcomed into the foyer.
“No, I actually just got back home.” He presented Kip the contents of his bag, “I got us tacos.”
Kip peered over and noticed a paper bag from a hardware store, “And screws?”
“Lightbulbs. But that’s for the painting. I installed a little lamp for it, and I was gonna ask you which light would look better. After we eat, though, come on.”
Scott laid out the tacos he bought on the kitchen island as Kip positioned the two drinks he brought with him too. He saw Scott eyeing the drink and handed him one to taste.
“I hope you don’t have a strict diet. Or allergies. It’s a blueberry smoothie with bananas. I got it from the store I used to work at when I was a grad student, I can attest they’re really good.”
Scott only flashed a small smile before taking a sip and whispering, “Thanks.”
“Good?”
“Great.”
They ate in silence, before Kip spoke up, “Did I do something wrong?”
Scott looked at him, like it pained him to have Kip right next to him. Or not have him closer.
Because Scott shook his head and reached for the back of Kip’s neck and pulled him close until his lips were on his.
Scott Hunter kisses like he’s hungry. It was sweet and soft and hard and…and…
Resurrecting.
“I’ve kissed you before,” Kip gasped. He pulled away and examined Scott, already looking at him as if pleading him to remember.
But he couldn’t.
Kip was starting to get furious, hopeless as he was stranded in the dark and Scott wouldn’t pass him a torch that could lead him to answers.
“Fucking tell me, Scott! Do I know you?” Kip stood up with Scott mirroring his actions. Every step Kip took back, Scott took forward.
“You did.”
“But why were there no traces of you?”
“Because the only other person who knew about us,” Scott took a shaky breath, “was too coward to not remind you.”
It was three years ago when Scott Hunter first walked in the smoothie shop where Kip worked at. That year, Scott was having a horrible slump in his career. It seemed like everybody in New York was disappointed in him and all Scott could do was run. Fast enough to not see their faces and fast enough for them not to see his. Until he ran out of breath in front of a smoothie shop near his neighborhood, until he walked in and saw a boy who was supposed to be working fast asleep on a chair. Scott Hunter’s breath of fresh air apparently wears a ball cap with a small strawberry and a name tag labeled ‘Kip.’
That night Scott Hunter led his team to a long awaited victory.
His routine then included visits to the smoothie shop, but after the fourth winning streak, Scott knew it wasn’t something in the drink that brought him back to life. It was the man he had small conversations with; conversations that played in Scott’s head when he woke up, when he was being driven to the game, when he’s in the shower, before he falls asleep.
One night, when Scott happened to be at an event where Kip worked as a server, Scott chalked it as a sign that millions of people lived in New York and yet there he was, standing in front of Kip, where their paths wouldn’t usually cross. It (and the whiskey in his system) gave Scott the courage to ask Kip for a late dinner. Later that night, Scott was eating something else too.
It was a great few months, until it was too good.
Too good that Kip wanted more and Scott couldn’t give. Not yet. Or ever. And Scott knew it was selfish of him to keep Kip when someone else could give him the same, but publicly.
So, they parted ways.
A month later, Scott couldn’t handle it any longer and went back to the smoothie shop and maybe see him and ask Kip if he could reconsider. If he could wait just a little bit longer, it’ll all be worth it. Except, he wasn’t there. The smoothie tasted bland. The next time he got a smoothie, a guy named Jeff made it too watery. When the next time he got a smoothie didn’t have his usual extra banana, he tried as best as he could to casually ask when Kip would be working again.
Scott felt nauseous at the news that Kip was no longer working there due to a medical leave. An accident, apparently. Automobile versus pedestrian collision. Lucky for Kip, he didn’t stay long in the hospital. Lucky for Scott, Kip’s former coworker was chatty. Unlucky for Kip, he apparently suffered retrograde amnesia.
Unlucky for Scott, they were was a whispered story that no one got the chance to hear.
“Why didn’t you come find me?” Kip asked, he was still a good distance away from Scott.
“I did,” Scott’s voice cracked. His eyes were threatening to spill with tears.
“Sooner!”
“I did!” Scott took a chance and took another step forward. This time, Kip didn’t move. “I did. I saw you with your dad and you looked happy again. You had no idea how hard it was to see you during the last few months of our relationship secretly crying because we wanted to hold hands in public but couldn’t. And I thought that it was a chance for you to not feel that hurt again. If I didn’t make you mine.”
“Bullshit! You took away the hurt but you took away the happiness too.”
Scott nodded, “The good and the bad. Fuck, Kip! I was stupid and maybe I still am.”
“So why’d you decide to approach me again? Why now? Am I convenient for you now?”
“Because I’m in love with you!” Scott’s breathing was shaky. “I always have and always will be. No, it will never be convenient to come out when you’re an athlete belonging in the most heterosexual sport. But I’m overflowing with love for you that I don’t care anymore if it spills on others.”
Kip wiped his own tears that he didn’t realize trailed on his cheeks, and then mumbled his goodbye.
•••
“I dated Scott Hunter,” Kip said, his gaze was empty as he stared at the fries Elena was picking at. It had been a week after he last saw Scott.
“The hockey superstar? Are we back on that?”
That made Kip look at his best friend. “What do you mean?”
“You had, like a phase, where you were hard core crushing on him whenever he stopped by your old work.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Elena looked confused, “I don’t know, I mean, everyone around you was pretty shaken up with what happened to you and about your temporary amnesia. I guess it never crossed my mind to remind you about your brief hyper fixation.”
“I dated Scott Hunter.”
“Are you talking about a dream…or are you remembering something?”
Kip shook his head, “Those memories I can’t remember, if there are moments where I do, it just feels super blurry. But Scott gave me glasses. It’s not 20/20 vision, but I can see better, remember something.”
“What do you remember?”
Kip scoffed, “My brain’s useless.”
“But?”
Kip cringed at what he was about to say, “But it feels like my heart remembers.”
Elena smiled fondly and held Kip’s hands. God, why was it so unfair that they could do this even in a crowded restaurant and he couldn’t do it with Scott. “Do you know how old people’s memories usually fade with time? How people can get dementia or Alzheimer’s?”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes they forget about their significant others too, but that doesn’t mean they love them any less. It doesn’t mean they loved any less or can’t love anymore.”
Kip took a deep breath, “But what if it ends up the same way? That I want more than what he can give.”
“But what if this time he can?” Kip replayed what Scott had said to him a few days ago. How his love for Kip was now so much that he didn’t care if others were painted with it. “I’m sorry, babe. Sometimes loving someone really does mean you can get hurt too. At the end of the day, it’s your call how much you can handle.”
•••
Kip knocked on the front door of Scott’s apartment. He doesn’t know if Scott was even home or if he’d want to see Kip after what happened or—
“Kip,” Scott said. Surprise and guarded were two words Kip would use to name the expression on the athlete’s face.
“Can we talk?”
Scott didn’t say anything and only stepped back to let Kip in. He noticed Scott’s hand opening and closing in a fist, as if holding himself back from holding Kip.
They sat on the kitchen bar stool (well, Kip did. Scott was too anxious and instead was standing and drumming his fingers on the counter). It was late afternoon and the large windows in the penthouse painted Scott in gold, his eyes reflecting brown and green.
“How have you been?” Scott attempted after clearing his throat.
“Awful.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Kip gave Scott a small smile. It eased something in Scott, enough to make him take a deep breath and stop his fingers from fidgeting. “I’m sorry too.”
Scott didn’t accept his apology. To him Kip did nothing wrong.
“Just the past few weeks with you, it felt surreal. And happy,” Kip started. He could see Scott tense up again. “And I’m not stupid. I know that with your status, even if you were straight or if I was a woman, you would also take precaution into keeping your private life from the public. But with us, it’s just a little more work for you.”
“It’s never work for me.” Scott supplied quickly.
“I just want to be realistic and ask, what would it be like for us again. You’ve been on top of your game, so I highly doubt you’re retiring anytime soon. I’m sorry if I’m asking for too much and I’m not forcing you to come out or say you have a deadline, I just want to know.”
Scott took Kip’s face and gently held it, caressing his thumb over his cheek. “I’d want to be with you. In public. In private. Just not…”
“Not…?”
“Not in secret.”
Kip smiled and kissed Scott’s hand. It was bittersweet, the way they knew what reality could be. But that was the thing. They only know what it could be, not what definitely would be.
So when Carter Vaughn, Scott’s teammate and best friend, asked Scott to bring the girl that was causing Scott to smile even at the crack of dawn to a double date with him and the actress Carter was currently going steady with, Scott agreed. And Scott walked in to a small family owned restaurant just an hour outside of the city for their breakfast date, holding Kip’s hand.
Carter looked at Scott. Then at Kip. Then at Scott. And when the punchline never came, Carter understood this was their reality.
“So you’re the one that has Scott smiling at his phone every roadtrip,” Carter beamed and extended his hand to shake Kip’s.
“Pretty sure that’s CandyCrush.” Kip replied, causing Carter to burst out laughing. Scott was still looking at Carter expectingly. For a change in his perspective of Scott, awkward, shame, maybe even disgust. But it never came.
What did come was a pat on his back as the four left the restaurant and Carter saying, “I’m happy for you, man. You deserve to finally be.”
Scott would’ve said ‘thanks,’ but their nature wasn’t to be too sappy. “I was happy before too.”
“Yeah, but not completely,” Carter was looking at Kip who was talking to his girlfriend. “This time, you seem like you are.”
This time, Scott said it. “Thanks, Vaughnny.”
•••
Scott woke up to an empty bed. The unoccupied side already cool to touch, meaning he had been alone for quite some time already. He put on some underwear and groaned at how spent he felt after last night, his muscles ache after playing a victorious game against Boston and then coming home to celebrate with Kip. As he walked out, he heard a blender in the kitchen, and there he found Kip. Focused on making a blueberry banana smoothie.
“Morning,” Scott grinned. He liked seeing Kip walk around his place with just an apron on. If he wasn’t short on time, he definitely would be having Kip on his back, legs spread open before Scott went to practice.
Kip beamed when he saw Scott finally awake. He poured the smoothie into a cup and gave it to Scott before kissing him so passionately it left Scott wanting more. “I can feel it, this isn’t the only cup you’re getting handed today.”
Scott was kissing Kip’s neck, one hand holding the cup and the other exploring Kip’s plump ass. “How are you so sure?”
“Because I’m the dating the fucking captain of the New York Admirals.”
Scott left Kip’s neck to look at him with his eyebrow arched, “And you’re fucking the captain of the New York Admirals?”
“Tonight,” Kip bit Scott’s lip.
Scott growled and chugged the smoothie Kip made, before his face turned serious again. “If we win the championship today, I’d probably go home a little bit later. Those after parties…they’re kind of like business meetings still. Us being paraded around to sponsors and stuff.”
“It’s okay,” Kip tucked a loose curl from Scott’s head that was getting longer. He didn’t complain. It was nice having something firm to tug when Scott was going down on him. “When you win, dad and Elena are probably gonna wanna ride the high of your win too at some pub or something.”
“I promise I’ll try to duck out as soon as possible,” Scott promised.
“Enjoy it with them too,” Kip kissed Scott on the lips, “You guys worked hard this season.”
“I wish you could come celebrate with us too,” Scott sighed.
“Someday,” Kip said. Because they might have told their close friends and family about their relationship, but Kip and Scott knew that it was only fair to keep it from the league for now based on the NHL’s conservatism on the topic.
Maybe someday the NHL would be more lenient towards players supporting the queer community. Maybe someday the NHL would be more accepting towards their queer players.
But maybe that someday could also be catalyzed by today.
Because when New York Admirals’s star captain Scott Hunter had led the team to the win the Stanley Cup, he also brought out his loved one on the ice. And on the center rink, with players and their families surrounding them, Scott Hunter kissed Kip Grady in front of thousands of people in the audience and millions of people watching them through their televisions. And the stadium erupted in cheers.
“Happy Valentine’s, Kip.”
Kip laughed and remembered his wish from last year. To have someone this year to celebrate with. “You know, I don’t think that coin landed in the fountain after it hit you.”
Scott leaned forward and spoke in Kip’s ear, “I know. I kept it.”