Patater Week - Feb 8 - Fake Relationship
Kent doesn’t know why he says what he does. Literally any other explanation would have been better.
Literally. Anything. Else.
But no. Kent is standing outside Alexei Mashkov’s hotel room with a bucket of icy water in his hands, fully prepared to lean it against the door and then quickly knock and ditch, when someone two doors down yells, “Parson? What are you doing here?”
Kent freezes and snaps his head. It’s the goalie, Snowy. The guy’s wearing a frown, which makes sense, because there’s no reason for Kent to be on the Falc’s floor when the Aces’ floor is one down. It’s pure dumb luck that the Falcs hadn’t yet cleared out of Minnesota by the time the Aces had arrived and settled in, and Kent had thought, Hey, Mashkov’s been ribbing me all over Twitter for the last two months, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I pulled an IRL prank on him?
That is the exact explanation he should give. The words “I’m pulling a leaner on Mashkov, wanna help?” should come out of his mouth. But they don’t.
Instead, what Kent says is, “I’m making a booty call, duh.”
“What?” Snowy’s eyes don’t bug out but he does look poleaxed. “You–And Tater? Since when?”
“None of your fuckin’ business,” Kent says, instead of what he should say, which is “Since never, oh my god you should have seen your face!”
What is he saying? Why is he lying? His hands are going numb from the bucket of ice water and meanwhile he’s sweating bullets under his sweatshirt.
Snowy doesn’t look pleased by the brush-off, but he also looks–apologetic? “Tater’s out,” he says. “He didn’t tell you?”
“I thought I’d surprise him,” Kent says, still going along with this, why the fuck is he still going along with this lie. His feet, mercifully, carry him a few steps back from Mashkov’s door and back down the hall in the opposite direction from Snowy. “Guess I’ll head back.”
Confusion is plain on Snowy’s face. “I’ll tell him you stopped by?”
“No, no, I’ll text him, it’s cool!” Kent’s grin might be manic and his voice might be a shade too high. His voice might be several octaves too high. “No need to bother him!”
“If you’re sure–”
“Insanely sure!” Kent waves and fucking flees.