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Why did I send that?

And more importantly, why do I suddenly feel the need to put a label on us? We’ve already agreed that we’re exclusive, and I’ve assured him that I don’t mind being the man in the shadows. But this…fucking hell.

My cell buzzes in my hand with his reply, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to pull myself together.

See, this is what happens when I don’t have a job. I overthink and end up in these kinds of bullshit situations.

DMan: Do you want to be?

“Fucking hell,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face and earning myself some side-eyes from the other guys in the changing room.

Now is not the time to be cute, Cooper Nash.

Garrett: Well, do you want me to be?

DMan: I feel like this could go on for a while…

I start typing my reply, but he’s faster.

DMan: You’re mine. And if that means I get the title of boyfriend, then I’m honored to claim it.

Well, shit.

My ass hits the bench and I stare at the message, my hand trembling.

I have a boyfriend.

No, I don’t just have a boyfriend. I have an incredible hockey-playing boyfriend.

Maybe miracles do come true.

Garrett: You know if I agree, that means your boyfriend is currently an unemployed bum.

DMan: Not true. My boyfriend is just trying to find where he fits now that he’s back in the place he belongs. He’s talented and dedicated and loyal, and before long, I don’t have any doubt that he’ll have a career he’s proud of.

Garrett: Wow, who’d have thought that Cooper Nash was the perfect boyfriend material.

DMan: Shush, don’t ruin my reputation.

I burst out laughing, ensuring that everyone here thinks I’m crazy.

Whatever. Let them think what they want. I’m sure they don’t spend their nights rolling around naked with a hockey player.

DMan: What’s your email address?

I quickly type it out, then ask the obvious question: why?

DMan: Trust me and wait.

Garrett: Fine. I’m about to shower. I’m all sweaty from the gym.

DMan: I’m gonna need evidence of both of those things.

Garrett: Is that right?

DMan: Yep, you wouldn’t want me to cancel your surprises now, would you?

I shake my head as I make sure my sweat-damp shirt is stuck to my torso before tensing my abs, holding my cell up high and snapping a selfie.