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February 2nd, 2018
Rose Landry loved Shane Hollander. It was no longer the short-lasting affection of their fling that had crashed and burned as soon as Rose got Shane to realise that they were not sexually compatible. Instead, it was an almost familial love that had bloomed from the ashes. She loved him, and wanted the best for him, so when he finally told her about one Ilya Rozanov, she was not going to murder him, despite how much she threatened it..
“You told me this in public so I couldn’t react the way you know I want to, didn’t you?” she snarked at him, straight-faced, idly tracing the rim of her cocktail with one finger.
Shane winced, but didn’t disagree.
“You are so lucky I’m a good actress,” she continued, her face consistently unemotive. To an outsider, they could be talking about taxes or some equally banal topic, instead of her gay ex-boyfriend’s partner of several years, who he hadn’t told her about despite the amount of drunken late nights they’d spent together.
Shane nodded sycophantically, twisting his hands together on the table. She was silent for a moment, relishing in his nervousness.
“...So?” he splayed his palms out.
She took pity on him. “Well, I’m glad you have good taste in men, at least. When you turned down Miles I was worried for a moment.” Her nails stopped tracing the glass, and she took a sip, letting the sweet alcohol burn down her throat. Once she finished, she offered him a small smile. “Once I get over being momentarily pissed at you for keeping this from me, I’ll be so happy for you, Shane.”
Finally, his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thank you. If it makes you feel any better, Hayden only found out recently as well. Ilya and I… we’re still not gonna be out in the open for years, but we kind of mutually decided we wanted to tell certain trusted people, now that we’re… y’know.”
“Actually boyfriends instead of fuck-buddies?” she teased.
His ears turned red, and he took a large gulp of his ginger ale. Rose smiled fondly at him. Her momentary annoyance was already fading into warm, fuzzy joy for her friend. She remembered just how scared he’d been when she’d gently confronted him about his sexuality, and how close he held secrets to his chest.
Once Shane got over his embarrassment, he looked pleased, his eyes going faraway – probably thinking about how far he’d come, just like her. “Yeah. That.”
“So…” Rose drew out, letting some of her held-back excitement seep into her tone, “I’m part of a super-secret elite club of people who know about Hollanov?”
“Hollanov?” Shane wrinkled his nose.
“It’s a ship name. I’m making it a thing,” she grinned.
“Please do not.”
“You can’t stop me. How big is this club anyways?”
He tapped the table, thinking. “Uh… well, my parents know. Hayden knows, which means his wife Jackie probably also does. Ilya said he told his best friend, Svetlana, which is why I’m telling you. He suggested it, actually.”
“He did?” Rose’s eyebrows raised. From the little she knew about Rozanov, she hadn’t thought he’d be the emotionally aware type. But if he was dating Shane Hollander, she supposed there was a lot she’d have to reevaluate about him. “You realise I’m gonna make you introduce him, now.”
Shane laughed. “Yeah, actually, he’d like that, too. I think he wants to…” he coughed.
Rose’s eyes narrowed at his sheepish look. She leaned in, pushing her drink out of the way. “Wants to what?”
“Stake… a claim on me? He was uh– kind of jealous of you, for a while?”
Rose was so caught off guard that she laughed aloud, pressing her manicured nails to her mouth quickly to stifle her giggles. “Ilya Rozanov. Hockey’s number one player. Is jealous of me.”
Shane ducked his head, laughing too. “Well, yeah. You’re gorgeous, and a film star.”
“And you’re 100% gay.”
He looked away, his laughter dying down into a softer smile, almost unbearably filled with saccharine emotion. “Yeah, he’s…”
“Possessive?”
He nodded, meeting her eyes. Something in his – which had always displayed so much emotion, honest to his core – showed that he was still looking for her validation.
“I’m happy for you, Shane. Really. It sounds like you really love him.”
“I do,” he said quietly. The confession made her heart feel full.
Later that night, in the privacy of her bedroom, Rose shamelessly looked up clips of Hollander and Rozanov interacting on the ice, and wondered how on earth she’d missed it before. All of the famous actors she knew could not imitate the amount of unfettered adoration in the eyes of Ilya Rozanov when he looked at Shane.
She only wondered if Shane could see it, too.
*
March 5th, 2018
Maybe it was a bad idea to stoke the fire of Rozanov’s jealousy, but upon closing her phone Rose raced to her closet to find a good outfit. She always enjoyed looking her best, especially when meeting new people – sometimes, the sparkling outfits and impeccable makeup helped her build up a confident armour around her, turning her into Rose Landry, Hollywood star, at least until she got to know someone enough to let her walls down.
Shane got back to her with an address and soon she was getting a cab to a small, tucked-away bar, eagerly awaiting whatever the night would bring. With these boys, she knew it would be interesting.
Shane was waiting outside of the bar for her, Ilya by his side. As she stepped out of the cab and onto the street, which was shimmering from the light rain and the lights of the city, she heard him calling her name.
“Shane,” she greeted with a smile, pulling him into a hug as he approached. When they separated, she turned to his boyfriend.
The two of them were dressed up slightly, which was a change from the usual hockey gear or sportswear they usually wore. They looked good together – especially because of the comfortable way they stood, just minutely closer than friends would, but as though it was as natural as anything in the world. They’d known each other since they were practically teenagers, she remembered. Ilya might be a new concept for her, but he was Shane’s before she even knew him.
She took a breath and smiled. “Ilya Rozanov,” she said, and pulled him into a short hug too. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She pulled away after a moment to see surprise on his face, settling into a broad grin. “And you, too. Shane has told me many things,” he said, his Russian accent colouring every word.
“Hayden can’t make it,” Shane told her apologetically. “There was an emergency back at home. Everything’s fine, but he wanted to say he’s sorry to miss it.”
Rose nodded as they wordlessly started moving inside. They located a corner of the bar with a few stools and a high table, and situated themselves. “So it’ll be just us and… sorry, I forgot her name.”
Rozanov grinned, something peculiar sparkling in his eyes. “Svetlana. My best friend and ex occasional– mоя любовь, what was the word?”
Shane glared at him. “You should not introduce her to people like that. Just like you shouldn’t call us ‘lovers’ to my parents. Normal people don’t bring up their sexual relationships immediately.”
“Ah, ‘fuck-buddies’! That was it,” Rozanov continued, as though he hadn’t heard Shane at all. “Not so different from your and Shane’s relationship, yes?”
Rose had spent enough time around men like Rozanov to know that he was testing her mettle, and seeing how she’d react to a little pressure, not unlike a hockey opponent. Luckily for her, and unluckily for Shane, she was up for the challenge. “Hmm, I guess,” she agreed, tapping her lip, “though I don’t know if you could really even call us that. I think Shane has told you that we weren’t really compatible.”
Ilya’s eyes widened as he laughed. “Ok, ok, I like her, Shane, you did not tell me she was funny.”
His boyfriend was red at the ears, and only glared in response. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”
A few minutes later, the three of them were comfortably settled into conversation, and Rose was busy grilling Shane about the long history of his and Ilya’s relationship, when her breath stuttered.
A supermodel was walking through the doors of the little bar.
Rose was no stranger to attractive women. She was, after all, in a job oversaturated with them. This one, though, wasn’t the glitz and glam of a Hollywood actress. She was stunning in the effortless sway of her hips, the easy confidence as she scanned the bar for someone. She looked so out of place, like some mythical goddess that had stumbled into this unknown corner of the city, but somehow she made that work too.
And then her eyes, heavy-lidded like a predator, landed on their group, and she began to slink her way over.
“Svetlana!” Ilya grinned, like someone mistaking a lioness for a housecat. His dopey smile from looking at Shane turned boyish as he went to greet her, kissing both of her cheeks exaggeratedly.
“Привет, Ilya, Shane,” the woman – Svetlana – greeted. Her eyes were lined with gold, but now they crinkled sunnily at her friend. Rose’s heart stuttered for a moment as Svetlana turned to her, raising an eyebrow only slightly.
“Rose Landry,” Svetlana purred, holding out her hand. “It is a pleasure. You have incredible style, it was wasted on this one.”
Rose took her hand. Their nails clicked together slightly, and Svetlana’s soft fingers slipped against Rose’s wrist for one moment before pulling away.
“I like to think I made a positive impact,” Rose laughed easily, thankful for the training she could fall back on to keep her breathing steady. “He started showing some awareness of the colour spectrum after he met me, at least.”
“I feel like I should be offended by that, but you’re not wrong.” Shane interjected. Rose had been so captivated by the newcomer, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
“And you must be the reason Ilya didn’t do the same?” Rose guessed. Her eyes trailed the dress the other woman was wearing – it was black, short at the skirt, and had a V-neck that cut deep. She averted her gaze, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
“Да,” Svetlana grinned. “I would not let him go outside without good clothes.”
“Yes, yes, everyone knows that you are the reason I am famous,” Ilya nudged her, and she rolled her eyes, but quickly her attention was back to Rose.
Rose felt as though she were pinned by the other woman’s gaze, and wondered if this kind of intense focus was normal for Svetlana, or if she’d done something to pique her attention.
“I have watched the X-squad,” Svetlana said, “I think you are an amazing actress. Your character – she is the Russian spy, yes?”
Rose blushed slightly. “Yes, though I admit I feel a little embarrassed talking about it to two actual Russian speakers. I only had a month to learn it, so–”
“Нет,” Svetlana interrupted. For the first time, her cool, salacious demeanour was broken by surprise – the widening of her crimson-painted mouth into an ‘o’ shape. Rose, once again, had to tear her gaze away. “But you were so good.”
Rose ducked her head, unsure of how to respond.
Svetlana recomposed her face, smirking. “Rose Landry is beautiful, rich, and smart,” she contemplated. “Shane, how could you let her get away.”
Shane laughed awkwardly. Ilya, not very subtly, grabbed his hand and scowled at Svetlana. She met his gaze, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“My dick was better,” Ilya sniffed. Giggles bubbled up from Rose’s chest, and soon the whole table was laughing. She made eye contact with Svetlana in the midst of composing herself, wide grin, flashing teeth, and felt electricity run up her spine.
That night, Rose rolled over in bed for the fiftieth time, trying to rest. For some reason, she couldn’t get a certain russian-accented voice out of her head. It kept echoing in her ears right as she was about ot fall asleep, sending her heart pounding. And when she closed her eyes, she kept seeing a teasing grin, perfectly shaped brown curls, red lipstick–
She sat up straight in bed, grabbed her phone, and hit the call button before she could think better of it.
Shane answered with a groggy voice after a few rings. “Rose? It’s 2AM. What’s wrong?”
“Shane,” Rose said seriously. “How did you know you were gay?”
“Wh-” she heard the sound of blankets shifting, and Ilya’s voice. Shane shushed him. “I’m just moving to the other room. What’s this about, Rose?”
“How did you know you were gay? Just– just answer the question.”
“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but my girlfriend kind of clocked me before I’d properly figured it out myself, and then kindly told me that my square peg was not meant to go in a round hole.”
“Right,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “But what if– I don’t know, what if I’m thinking my round hole might be compatible with other round holes, too?”
“Wow, this is still a terrible metaphor.”
“Yeah,” she laughed, as if she wasn’t rethinking her entire sexuality at 2AM.
“Oh, shit. Svetlana.”
“Yeah,” Rose echoed again. “Svetlana.”
Fuck.