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There was a part of Troy that couldn't believe he was doing this. His phone sat in front of him, the Bumble app just recently installed.
“Give,” his friend and teammate Ilya demanded, holding out his hand for Troy’s phone. “I will help. I had app, is easy.”
If you asked Troy, that sounded like a worse idea than him installing the app in the first place. At the same time, though, Ilya never really participated in team life outside of games and their visits to the local hospital. Who was Troy to say no to Ilya helping with something like this, as long as he didn't help too much? “Somehow, I doubt you have this app, Ilya.” From everything he had heard about his captain’s reputation, Bumble was the last dating app the Centaurs captain would use.
Instead of saying anything in reply, Ilya just held his hand out until Troyhanded over his phone with a groan.
Once it was in his hands, he typed furiously for a few minutes.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Troy asked.
“Setting up profile. Here, for you.”
He had, thankfully, just handed Troy back his phone. In front of him were spaces for Troy to select basic information like his age and height.
Troy filled everything in, then stared at his phone, at a loss.
The next section was asking him to choose his interests. Considering Troy only had one interest, hockey, he had no idea what to put down other than that. This was already not going well. Anyone who looked at his profile would realize just how boring he actually was.
Ilya seemed to realize this problem at the same time he did. “Give. I will make you more interesting.”
Troy held his phone out of the captain’s reach- which, considering Ilya was taller than him, was an impossible task. “How do you think you're going to do that?”
“You will see if you give.”
Troy was pretty sure this was a terrible idea. Ilya was giving him a look that told him he wouldn't take no for an answer, though, and Troy knew what the Russian was like in these kinds of situations: annoying to a fault. There was no way he could get out of this.
He passed his phone over, looking over Ilya's shoulder as he pressed buttons with a grin on his face that suggested that Troy should've never given in. Hockey, of course, was okay, but anything else he felt like Ilya should get his approval first.
When they got to the part where people setting up an account chose what gender they were interested in dating, Troy blanched. The last thing he wanted to do was come out to Ilya Rozanov, of all people. The man was a menace, and Troy couldn’t imagine that this would be any different, especially given how queer people were traditionally treated in the culture of their favorite sport.
Then he saw the part about being able to change his preferences in this area whenever he wanted, and he sighed, relief flooding him. “Women,” he told Ilya, knowing that as soon as he got his phone back, he would change it to his true preference.
There was a strange look on Ilya’s face. If he was harboring any suspicions at all that Troy was lying, Troy didn’t want to hear about it.
Then he shrugged. “Okay.”
Then they got to the part where people were supposed to choose pictures for their profile. That was the point when Troy held his hand out. “Let me choose those.”
“No,” Ilya said. His face was a replica of cartoon villains Troy had watched when he was younger. “Is my job. I pick only good ones.”
Troy’s arms were crossed over his chest. “What exactly qualifies as a good one? One where I'm drunk and doing something embarrassing?” Not that he thought there were many of those out in the world, but still…
Ilya shook his head. “No. You need to be hot.”
Okay. Troy could work with that. “That's all you're trying to do with these pictures, right?” He couldn't let Ilya have some girl thinking Troy was someone he wasn't… not that any girls would be seeing Troy's profile, if he had anything to say about it.
Ilya, though, shook his head with a grin. “The girls need to see you are good at hockey.”
Well, Troy didn’t love tooting his own horn, but he was good at hockey. So he couldn’t exactly argue with that. In fact… “Thanks, I guess.”
“See? With my help, you will have girl in no time.”
Hopefully, that was true of guys too…
Finally, his profile was complete and Ilya handed Troy’s phone back to him with a flourish. “I will check to make sure you are okay, yes? You need help talking to girls?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Troy waved him off. “I think I’ve got it covered from here.”
At least, he hoped so. He had no idea if he needed to be flirtatious- after all, wasn't that what people expected on these things? In all honesty, though, all he wanted was to get to know someone in a genuine way. If he was nothing but flirty, how was he supposed to do that?
Only time would tell if his plan actually worked, though. At the end of the day, though, how hard could it be?
Troy stared at his phone. This was more difficult than it looked.
Most guys he knew would just swipe left and right based on looks alone. Troy wasn't most guys, though. If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right. He wanted someone who got him in a way no one else did.
First things first, though: he needed to change his preferences…
With trembling fingers, he found the People tab and changed what he was looking for from women to men.
Once he had returned to the main screen, he started swiping left and right after carefully looking at the entirety of each person’s profile. If they didn’t write anything about their interests, or didn’t write a description to go with their photos, they were an immediate swipe left, if you asked Troy. If there was a match, but there was no question for Troy to answer, he didn’t start a conversation with them, either. After all, how was he supposed to start it? Hi? Not only was that boring, it would lead absolutely nowhere without a little more to work with.
Suddenly, a familiar face filled the screen. Troy would’ve recognized that tie-dye shirt and Pride pin anywhere. It was Harris, the team’s social media manager.
Harris? Like Troy? He couldn’t even fathom it. They were complete opposites, Troy the night to Harris’ day.
At the same time, though… Troy knew he had found his feet carrying him to Harris’ office just to hang out more often than not. There was just something about him that made Troy feel at ease no matter what happened that day. People like that, he knew, were hard to find, so who was Troy to pass up that opportunity? The worst Harris could do was swipe left or say no further down the line if he changed his mind, right?
Taking a deep breath, he swiped right, only to discover immediately that Harris had swiped right on him as well. What exactly that meant, Troy didn’t know, but it could only mean good things, right? Whether Harris had never considered dating him before or if he had been harboring a crush for the entire time they had known each other didn’t matter.
Thankfully, just when Troy had been fumbling for something to say, he noticed that Harris had set up the conversation starter questions that Troy had avoided choosing.
What’s something that made you smile recently?
The thing was, for Troy, that was a very short list. And Harris already knew he played hockey, of course, so that wouldn’t be telling him anything new.
Then he thought of his dinner the night before, and decided that was as good an answer as any.
Troy couldn't help grinning at the screen. He never knew Harris’ sisters made cider, and now, he definitely wanted to try it. He already didn't have any regrets about swiping right. Even if this ended up blowing up in his face later, it had already been worth it.
Normally, Troy would want some input for these things if he was meeting up with someone he didn't know. Harris, he knew, at least knew him a little bit, so giving him free reign might not go as badly as it would with a random stranger.
They talked for the rest of the night, Harris’ outgoing nature keeping the conversation going as much as Troy’s quiet curiosity. He wasn’t completely sure he and Harris would work out, of course, given that they had only just started talking and from all he knew about him, his life was very different from Troy’s, but there was something in Troy that was making him do a dangerous thing: hope. He wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing or not.
The day of his date with Harris had arrived, and Troy was a nervous wreck. It wasn’t that he cared too much about Harris’ opinion, exactly. He had had bad luck with relationships, though, most notably with his ex Adrian, and he didn’t want history to repeat itself. For one thing, it would make going to work miserable, especially when Harris needed to put together something for their socials. And as much as he liked to not be the center of attention, he knew he couldn’t do that. He wouldn't do that to Harris, no matter what happened between them away from the rink.
He had agreed to let Harris pick him up, and he was thankful for that decision. It gave him more time to figure out what to wear. Not that he thought anyone would be looking at him, not with Harris in the same room, but still. He was being seen with Harris, and he didn't want him to be embarrassed to be seen with him. Harris was a different person from Troy's ex, of course, much more laid back, but still. There was a possibility that Troy really wanted this to work out, and if it did… well, Troy didn't know what would happen, of course, but hope was growing within him unchecked and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The second Harris showed up outside his door (a full ten minutes early, not that Troy was surprised), Troy knew he was in trouble. Harris was wearing a purple shirt with his jeans, and it went so well with his sandy-colored hair that if Troy didn't know better, he'd say it had been made for him. It made his all black ensemble look dismal in comparison.
“Ready to go?” Harris asked, whipping out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
Troy went red. Of course Harris had gotten him flowers. It was such a Harris thing to do- and a thing that Harris would like- that not only should Troy have been expecting it, but he should’ve gotten Harris a bouquet of his own or something. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Harris cocked his head to the side. “Why are you apologizing?” His expression was suddenly crestfallen. “Can you not come anymore”
“No, I'm coming,” Troy rushed to assure him. “I just- I don't know if I have a vase for the flowers, and I don't have anything for you.”
Harris shrugged. “You didn't need to get me anything. I definitely wasn't expecting it. Getting to hang out with you tonight is more than enough. You don't need to impress me. Have I told you yet that every time I was swiping left and right on Bumble, the person I always secretly hoped would pop up next was you?”
“No,” Troy responded quietly, his eyes wide, hardly daring to believe it.
“Well, I did,” Harris reiterated, his hand reaching out and stroking the back against Troy’s cheek. “So any doubts you’re having need to go far away.”
Troy couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He was going to do as Harris suggested, though, and just embrace it. After all, he didn’t want to risk messing anything up, and his insecurities might do exactly that.
At some point during their conversation, Troy’s fingers had slipped into Harris’ without him ever consciously thinking about it, and he dragged Harris into the kitchen with him, finding a larger cup he’d gotten from the movie theater to fill it with water so he could use it as a vase.
Once the flowers were in the vase, he turned to Harris.
“Are you ready?” his date asked.
His heart fluttering at the squeeze of his hand that accompanied those words, Troy responded, ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.”
When Harris dropped him off at the end of the night and kissed him sweetly at the door, Troy knew that this was the start of something that he never wanted to end.