Hilary is okay with having a rep if it means NHL stars bring her Cheetos.

It’s not - it’s not a thing. Really. Not a thing-thing, at the very least. He doesn't think it can be a thing if you only think about it and don't act on it, excepting that one time when Connor was straight up nailing him to the bed. He reasons that it certainly can't be a thing-thing if you've never even talked about it with your not-boyfriend. Dylan resolves to figure his shit out and have less hyphens involved in his life. (or: Connor McDaddy)

They get to the tables with the guys, who’re watching with varying levels of amusement, and finally Ritter drops him on the padded bench. Matt bounces and nearly slides right off. Ritter manages to catch him, one firm hand planted on his chest, pressing him down. “Stay,” he orders and Matt sucks in a sharp breath as something in him goes molten hot. OR Matt's got a bit of a Ritter sized problem.