One

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HECTOR "ATTY" ATLAS

Hugo staresat me as if seeing me for the first time. He hasn't moved since I opened the door, I'm not sure he's even blinked. Trying to contain my amusement is getting harder as the minutes pass.

He reaches out, his fingers hovering near my cheek. Am I a ghost? Will I disperse into thin air if he makes contact? I'm so amused that I let his fingers brush my bare cheek.

"BOO!" I shout as soon as his fingertips touch me, and Hugo nearly falls backwards.

I laugh, gripping the doorknob so I don't lose my balance. That was fucking priceless.

"Not cool," he says, glaring. But I don't miss the way he's still staring at me.

"I can't decide if you like it or not," I taunt.

"It's just… different," Hugo replies. "I don't recognize you at all."

I grin and brush a hand over my face and through my hair. There's a very good reason he's reacting to me the way he has. Since I hit puberty and started growing facial hair, I have never shaved. I mean that quite literally. Never. About halfway through high school, I stopped cutting my hair too. I kept myself trimmed and neat, of course, but let it all grow.

It started as laziness. Okay, if I'm honest, I was afraid of razors initially. All I could imagine was that I'd accidentally cut my artery and bleed out. But by the time the fear passed, it had been three years, and it seemed to just be my thing by that point. Why change it? It was what I was known for. How everyone recognized me!

Therefore, there isn't a single photo that exists of me without a Viking appearance. In college, I even started styling it to match classic Viking imagery.

So why, after all these years, did I suddenly shave my face clean and cut my hair to a more reasonable, manageable length? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I was tired of the constant upkeep. Maybe I was just ready for a change.

Since cutting my hair and shaving three days ago, I've spent a lot of time staring at myself in the mirror. Hugo's the first to see me and I completely understand his reaction. I don't even recognize myself!

Once, three years ago, I used a couple online image generators and put several of my pictures through, asking them to cut my hair and make me clean shaven. Part of me thinks I did it because I've been ready for the change for a long time.

But I wasn't sure I liked what I saw. And thus, it didn't happen until now.

Thankfully, I don't look like any of those renditions that the generators showed me. I like what I see, even if I have to work on evening out my skin tone now that there isn't a thick layer of fur on my face.

However, it's still shocking to see every time I walk by a mirror. I swear, I see a stranger.

Crossing my arms, I stare at Hugo with amusement. "Keep staring and I'm going to think you have a crush on me, boo."

Hugo blinks, but his response is delayed. Finally, he rolls his eyes. Noah steps into the entry and shoves him lightly. "I knew you were being a creep," he says to Hugo with a big smile. He turns his attention to me and I can see the way he tries not to stare like Hugo is.

"Wow," Noah says. "You look…"

"Again, I'm not sure if this is approving or not," I say.

He laughs and pushes Hugo toward the elevator. "You look great, Atty."

Noah is one of our newest players. He was traded early last summer and wasted no time getting out here. Management introduced him during the last meeting and Winslow immediately took him under his wing. Which was completely fine with me, because Noah is a nice guy. Super sweet.

And… pretty. Strange to think of a man that way, but he is definitely pretty.

I follow them to the elevator and catch my reflection in the mirror. Yep, I look strange. Not necessarily bad but… different. Very different. Like I peeled off a layer and unveiled something brand new.

The rest of our group is waiting in the lobby and even Egon's husband is staring at me.

"Damn," Winslow says. "It's like you just revealed your secret identity."

Egon laughs. "Yes! That's it!"

"I'm looking forward to whether the public will recognize you," Noah says.

Honestly, I'm kind of hoping they don't. I'm not the best player on the team and therefore, there aren't enormous crowds always seeking me out. Sometimes I think I've only been most memorable because of my looks. That or the constant on-off relationship with my ex. The media loves to speculate and spread gossip that nine out of ten times isn't true.

As we head to the cars and I climb into the back, there's a giddy feeling inside me. I'm excited not to be recognized. I'm looking forward to the anonymity of tonight as a test. At the end of the night, there won't be new posts hypothesizing where my ex is. Wondering why we weren't together tonight. Why, in our party of eight, Winslow and I were the only ones not officially coupled up.

"Hey, you guys hear that Coach has been released?" Noah asks, twisting in his seat to look at me and Winslow. His boyfriend is driving us—retired hockey player, Elixon. Honestly, I was so damn humbled when I met him for real once Noah was traded to L.A.

"No!" Winslow says.

Noah shakes his head. He looks at Lix. "Told you they didn't check their emails." Elixon flashes Noah a grin but keeps his focus on the road.

I pull out my phone and do just that. Sure enough, there's an email from L.A. Golden Tides management with a very generic message about Coach leaving L.A. to pursue other opportunities.

"Yep, he was totally fired," Winslow says, sighing. "As if it was his fault we sucked this year."

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "You had a good season!"

Winslow rolls his eyes. "I had a single shut out this year. One! I'm probably going to get traded."

"We ended the season with a seven game winning streak," I remind him.

He sighs heavily. I can feel his frustration.

"We'll do better next year," Noah says.

"Exactly. We just need some Noah Kain magic."

Noah grins. "And you needed to get your aerodynamics fixed. I bet you'll be quicker on the ice now."

I narrow my eyes. "Yeah. Was I slow before?"

He just smiles and turns to face the front.

"Didn't you say you were heading out this summer?" Winslow asks.

Noah nods. "Yeah. We are. But the cruise was delayed a little so we decided to house hunt and participate in some team bonding until the cruise."

"Why weren't we invited again?" Winslow asks.

Elixon chuckles.

"I guess you can join us if you want to," Noah answers. "It's just a bunch of queer athletes on a three-week cruise. If you don't mind being hit on and seeing Max parade around naked, I don't think anyone would care if you joined us."

"It's all in good fun," Elixon says, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. "We understand what no means. So mostly, you'll be hit on in jest."

"I'll think about it," Winslow says and looks out the window.

"You that lonely, Winny? You could easily get a girlfriend, you know," I tease.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm tired of dating around. Kinda just want a wife but I want the real thing. Everyone just seems so… fake. You know?"

I don't answer because I feel that in my soul. I've spent so much of my life with Marie that I'm not sure where to go from here. It started with our parents pushing us together and then the rest of the world did too when they learned we were childhood sweethearts.

The thing is, I'm not sure that we've ever truly loved each other. Not in the way that is consuming. I love Marie; she's sweet and kind and has been with me through so much. But I'm not inlove with her. It became obvious three breakups ago that the only reason we kept getting back together was because of outside forces. Expectations. Convenience. It was easy.

Not because either of us really wanted it.

This last time six months ago when we broke up, it was for the right reasons. We're not in love and we want more for ourselves and each other. I want a fairy tale. I want to meet someone who just takes my breath away. A strong, beautiful woman who will build a home and life with me, making me the equal and not the head of the house.

So, yeah. I get what Winslow is saying. Since then, all I've met are puck bunnies. Gold diggers. Opportunists. There are so many people whose beauty is just skin deep and I somehow attract them all.

It was one reason I had always had the mindset of at least Marie likes me for me; a future with her won't be so bad.

Every man's dream right there. A future that's not so bad.

The car ride is quiet as we head to Buena Park. Hugo has been begging us to go with him to Medieval Company for months, it's a dinner show where we eat with our hands and watch a medieval tournament or something. We agreed that we'd go once the season was over. I think that most of us were hoping he'd forget.

He did not.

Thus, here we are, pulling into the parking lot of a… castle? I grin because it's actually pretty cool. Elixon pulls the car into the spot next to Hugo's and we climb out. Hugo is already beaming like a child. His date is amusing but looking at her, I am slightly excited to see her try to eat with her hands. Her fingernails are aggressively long. Perhaps she didn't get the memo.

"Isn't this sick?" Hugo asks.

"I admit, it's pretty cool," Winslow answers.

"It would be even better if it was actually made of stone," Egon says as he stares up at the obvious faux stone fa?ade.

His husband wraps an arm around his waist. I can't tell if it's possessive or he just likes to keep his hands on Egon. For his part, Egon reflexively leans into Rakesh. I'm not even sure it's a conscious decision. They just fit together like puzzle pieces.

I want that.

Forcing my gaze from them, I stare at the building. There's already a line, even though we can't get in for another twenty minutes, which is already an hour before the show starts.

"Come on," Hugo says and takes his date's hand.

It's almost immediate that we're spotted. By ‘we,' I mean Hugo, Noah, Elixon, and Winslow. I'm fucking psyched that no one recognizes me. Hugo's date remains glued to his side, beaming as if she's incredibly proud of Hugo. My guess is that she enjoys the attention.

Meanwhile, I back away and stand beside Egon.

"I'm not sad that I don't get that much attention," Egon says, shaking his head. "Granted, spotlight wasn't a reason on my list that directed my career choice, but it should have been."

I snort. "It's wild that I'm standing right here and no one knows," I murmur, keeping my voice down so I don't call attention to myself.

Egon grins. "It truly is. You look good, by the way. I meant to say that earlier."

Nudging his shoulder, I grin. "Thanks."

We watch the other guys with bemusement. Eventually, we're let in and the crowd moves along the queue. At the entrance, we are given royalty passes and black and white paper crowns. We take pictures with their queen and then get shuffled through the door.

We're led directly into an enormous gift shop and bar. Hugo insists that we all purchase commemorative glasses with our alcohol, so we do. Hoping to dissuade Hugo from demanding we all buy light up swords and matching t-shirts, we hurry him to the theater.

A man takes our tickets and leads us to the front row, where we're pushed into bench seating with a bar table in front of us. There's a would-be metal plate and a napkin, as well as a black and white flag at each of our place settings.

The arena is a large oval pit covered in sawdust, with weapons hanging on the short walls around the edges. At one end, there's a balcony overlooking the arena and a very luxurious chair—a throne. The stadium seating is broken into six sections, all color-coded differently. To match our hats and flags, we're in the black and white section.

The atmosphere is honestly pretty great. There's a tone of excitement buzzing in the air, and some people are dressed in period costumes.

"All right," Noah admits, "this is pretty neat."

"Told you it would be!" Hugo says.

We meet our waiter who immediately gets requests to refill our drinks and, as the place fills, the lights dim. The crowd gets louder, more excited.

A man on a horse in some fine ass cloak comes trotting onto the sawdust and begins his script. I'm amused as I listen while he explains that each of the six kingdoms are here to celebrate something or other. On each side of the arena, the three kingdoms are allies. Green, red and yellow, and blue versus yellow, black and white, and red.

We cheer for our kingdom first, then for our allies, and boo for our opponents.

I glance at my friends. Hugo is cheering loudly, waving his flag in the air with the rest of the crowd. I'm not the only one amused. Noah's waving his flag but laughing at Hugo., whileWinslow just shakes his head.

Then we begin to meet our knights. They enter on horseback; the rider bows to the queen on the balcony, and then does a circuit of the arena before standing in front of their kingdom to wave to their audience.

I watch as blue comes out first. Opposite blue, yellow is next. Then facing us is red and yellow. Finally, our knight comes out. I cheer with the rest of my ‘kingdom,' though I don't scream like Hugo does. I'm too busy laughing at Hugo's enthusiasm to watch our knight.

That is, until he stops directly in front of me and waves at the crowd. He's not looking at me, which is probably a good thing, since I'm fucking staring. I'm not even sure why. But I can't look away.

Is it his smile? His hair? His eyes?

There's something about this man that captivates me and no matter how much I try to force my attention literally anywhere else, I'm transfixed. It isn't until he turns his back to us and faces the arena that I can catch my breath.

The entire world feels off balance, and I push my back into the seat. I need more alcohol. Pulling my mug to me, I take a very long drink and then scowl because I ordered slushy juice—sans alcohol—and also just gave myself a brain freeze.