Page 110 of The Tryout

“It makes your eyes look really nice.”

I take the sweater from him, trying to think of when he would have even seen me wear it. I toss on a black t-shirt and then throw the sweater on over top before heading back to the closet. Thinking of his love for my sheets, I grab one of my nicer t-shirts – a silk blend that hardly feels like anything. As he puts it on, I can see him gently stroking the fabric and I know I’ve chosen correctly. The silk adds a sheen to the gray fabric, emphasizing both his eyes and the muscles it lays against. Acknowledging that it is, after all, December in Iowa, I also grab a navy cardigan, a sweater with the structure of a blazer.

He puts it on, the knit fabric stretching over his shoulders. Finally, he looks at me, a little uncertainty in his eyes.

“Do I look okay?”

I can’t help but tell him the truth.

“You look great.”

Walking into the restaurant, it seems like Finn has chosen well. The rich, dark wood and jewel-toned fabrics are maybe a little dated, but in a way that feels appropriate to a higher-end steakhouse. It seems as though we’ve dressed appropriately – around us, there are people in everything from suits to jeans and a button-up with a bolo tie.

It’s one of the things I’ve found that California and Iowa have in common; there’s not a huge hangup about dress codes, even at nicer restaurants. If you’re here to eat – and pay for – your meal, you’re welcome to do that in whatever outfit feels best.

As the host walks us to our table, I realize I’m not quite sure how to play the situation. If someone else I was having sex with asked me to dinner, I’d probably assume I could treat it as a date – at least a hand-on-their-back or flirt-over-drinks sort of date. But it occurs to me that I don’t know how Finn feels about that, especially in public. So much of what we’ve done has been hidden behind the privacy of our front door.

And, I realize, we’re not exactly unknown in Des Moines. Or, at least, Finn isn’t. Eighteen months into his time with the Pack, and especially coming off of his trip to Minneapolis, it’s entirely plausible someone will recognize him.

I decide, then, that playing it cool is probably the best bet. We’re just two dudes out for a steak, right?

As we sit, declining the wine menu, I notice Finn looking around, eyes wide.

“You okay over there?”

I tap his foot briefly with mine, wishing it could linger. He smiles at me.

“I’m just glad I’m paying tonight, or else I’d be having a total meltdown.”

I snort at that, knowing it’s true.

“This isn’t you having a meltdown?”

He blushes, but I see a smile as he turns his attention to the menu. The food is standard steakhouse fare – somewhat overpriced cuts of beef and side dishes big enough to share. I decide on a ribeye, while Finn opts for a filet. For the table, we get potatoes au gratin and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce.

As the waitress leaves, I decide on a low-stakes conversation topic.

“So how was Minneapolis? Everything you ever dreamed of?”

I hope I don’t sound resentful – I’m not. If it were Briggs, sure, I’d feel some sort of way about him going to Minneapolis while better players are stuck here. But Finn? No one deserves this like Finn deserves it.

“It was…honestly, it was a lot.”

I feel my eyebrows raise, having expected a response that was just a little more…positive?

“Yeah? Like how?”

He takes a deep breath.

“The hockey was good. Or, at least, I felt like I could do it, like I could keep up. The coaches were nice, the players were welcoming.”

I nod, glad that I don’t need to make a phone call to Ethan.

“The fans were…a lot. I’ve never played in front of that many people, and people who really know the game.”

That makes sense. For most guys, by the time they hit an AHL roster, they’ll have played in Juniors or the NCAA for a couple years. Hell, for some of those guys, their AHL arena will be the smallest they’ve played in for years. But for Finn? The extra ten thousand fans in Minneapolis must have been overwhelming. Hell, he’d been watched by more fans than there are people in his hometown.

“Were the guys good to you? Other than Ethan and Jamie, I mean.”