He faces me, tilting his head. “You’d usually make some joke about how you’re turning me Swedish, but all I get is a ‘fuck yeah’?”
I chuckle. “I have some news.Goodnews.” I’m tempted to clarify that it’smostlygood news, but that would be way too ominous. “So you know how my agent has been doing long-shot contract negotiations to keep Alvik on their toes, right?”
Luke nods. “Because he wants to take his share of a larger salary.”
“Exactly. So he was making a fuss and hyping me up to NHL scouts this past season, knowing that Alvik is willing to go to the ends of the earth to keep me and Nils together.”
“Right, Alvikandthose social media edit accounts want you and Nils to stay on the same team. What are you trying to say?”
I stay silent, and Luke opens his mouth in a shocked smile. “No,” he says. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Who made an offer, Erik? Where are you going? Where are we moving?”
Here goes nothing.
“Boston.”
Yeah, because Boston, the eternal arch-rivals of Toronto, needed some tested forwards and made an offer that’swaytoo good to turn down. I haven’t signed it yet, but my fingers are itching.
Luke hesitates for a split second, and then he launches into a hug, his face lighting up. “Oh my god, that’s amazing, Erik!” he says, bringing his face to mine and crashing our mouths together.
He’s taking the news better than I thought he would.
Sighing through parted lips, he continues. “Boston plays dirty but I’m still so fucking proud of you.”
And there’s the catch, even if he’s joking.
I pull back and suppress a laugh. “Thanks. Maybe I can be a force for good on the team.”
“Please,” Luke says. “That team is indireneed of honor and grace.”
Objectively, Boston doesn’t bend the rules any more than the other NHL teams, but fans are gonna be fans.
“And you look great in green, so you’ll turn heads when you’re wearing a Boston sweater to games,” I joke.
Luke physically recoils.
“I can’t,” he says, wincing. “My family wouldkillme. They’d let me off by the skin of my teeth for Montreal, butBoston? That’s pushing it way too far.”
I huff and cross my arms. “You wouldn’t wear team merch to my games? Way to support your boyfriend.”
Letting out a muffled groan, Luke squeezes my leg and looks away. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “I’d wear your Alvik stuff or something. I can’t drape myself inenemy armor.”
“That’s fine, I guess, but you can’t stopmefrom wearing what I want.” I smirk, curling my fingers through Luke’s hair and dragging him close to me, my lips next to his right ear. “Imagine this: me in my Boston jersey and you on your knees, gagging on the enemy’s cock.”
Luke rests his forehead on mine. “Erik, you are so lucky I love you.”
I perk up. “So you’d give me head when I’m wearing so-called enemy armor?”
“Only if I get to hate-fuck you afterward.”
“Deal.” I grin at him, and we settle into silence.
But only for a second because that isn’t the only news I have to share.
“Oh, and guess who else is coming to Boston?” I say.
