by Alex Jane
And it wasn't as if he was in a position to deal with his psychological issues then and there. The last thing he wanted to do was to ruin the holidays by having to deal with a whole bunch of emotional shit, not when he had such limited time with his family, and not while Casey was going through…whatever Casey was going through. So he pushed the thoughts away, burying them long enough that he could smile through lunch with his mom and be cheerful enough to dance around the kitchen when they were home, just like old times. When he was afraid his anxiety was starting to surface again, he made his excuses, popped up to his room to change, then borrowed the car and headed over to Jackson's gym.
It was comforting that nothing about the place had changed while he'd been gone. The music was the same, the decor, the equipment, and Jackson himself, a fifty-something ex-marine, walking around with a cloth in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, staring people down and wiping the equipment practically before they had finished using it, like the germaphobe he had always been.
Justin chuckled to himself and waved when Jackson nodded in his direction. It only took a minute to get changed, standing in front of the same locker he'd always used back when he would come here every other day with his dad. There was another place on the other side of town near the park which was new or newer, with state-of-the-art equipment, open twenty-four hours if you needed it, but given a choice, Justin would always choose to come to Jackson's. Not only for the familiarity but knowing he'd be okay there.
The locker room hadn't always been the safest place for him. He made no apologies for the way he talked or the way he walked, even when there were threats involved—even when there were fists. But he had never felt afraid here, not like he had done at school. It was hardly a place to get picked up, but it was somewhere where even the slightest hint of trouble could be dissipated simply by pointing out that Justin was "the Meadows' kid," although he wondered sometimes if people were more afraid of Kyle or Tyler.
It made it easy then to walk out into the room in skintight shorts and a pink wife beater, his headphones already firmly planted in his ears, ready to step onto the running machine and lose himself for an hour or so.
His routine was well-practiced and, apart from babying the weak ankle he'd picked up a couple of years before after twisting it on the sidewalk of all things, he was pretty confident that he could push himself without getting injured. He ran for a while, mixing up the pace and adding a hill climb until his limbs felt loose and the sweat was beading on his skin. Wiping himself down with the small towel he'd brought out and taking a drink of water from his bottle, he strolled over to the machines and started on his weight routine. He was one of those guys who never felt the need to bulk up, having seen too many of them with necks thicker than their heads, and cringed at the memory of seeing a guy rip his bicep off at the elbow, the muscle curled up under his skin like a roll-up blind. He just wanted to stay fit and strong, to stay as lean as possible for as long as possible. Even though he didn't have anything to do with his biological father, he'd seen enough pictures to know his genes would much prefer him to grow out rather than up. Just the thought of it had him doing an extra set on the rowing machine.
As he was finishing up his leg workout, taking another drink and trying not to smile about the fact that Jackson was hovering just out of his eye-line, waiting to pounce and wipe down the bench, even after he'd done a good job himself, the door opened and, of course, Roman walked in.
Justin cursed under his breath and hung his head. He was only about halfway done but he knew he could easily be finished up, ready to leave, before Roman even came out of the locker room. But he thought about what his parents had said that morning and fought against his first inclination. Wiping his face with his towel and picking up his water bottle, instead of running for the door, he moved across to start his shoulder presses and got settled in.
Once his music was turned up, and he was working out, he pretty much forgot Roman was even in the room until he was coming to his last set and spotted him sliding weights into a bar over at the weight bench. Justin slowed what he was doing, squinting over at the heavy plates Roman was loading up. Even from a distance, Justin didn't think Roman should even be attempting that amount on his own. After glancing around to see if anyone was going to step up, and seeing no one, Justin cursed a little under his breath, collected his things, and got up from where he was sitting.
"You need someone to spot for you." Justin didn't bother to even frame it as a question.
"I'm good," Roman said as he lay back on the bench, wriggling slightly as he centered his shoulders, and lifted his hands to wrap around the bar.
"I never said you weren't good," Justin said, taking his place at Roman's head. "But anyone would be an idiot to lift on their own. You should know that by now."
"Yeah, well." Roman groaned as he lifted the weight off its stand and adjusted it above his chest. "Maybe I was trying to lure you over here."
"Yeah," Justin said, going for breezy but then somehow getting emotion caught up in his throat. "And why would you want to do that?"
Roman slowly lowered the bar to his chest, the muscles in his arms bulging, the tendons in his neck cording as he blew out a breath before pushing the bar back up and locking his elbows. "Maybe I wanted to apologize. For the other night."
As Roman took another rep, Justin stepped forward and placed his fingers lightly under the bar, not really touching but just to get a little closer. "It's forgotten already," Justin lied. "Don't worry about it. Really, I think I should be apologizing to you."
Roman exhaled noisily through clenched teeth as he pushed the bar back up. "You didn't do anything."
"I was a jerk to you. I didn't need to be. I'm sorry about that."
Roman seemed to pause, then set the bar back on its stand, metal clattering against metal as it settled. Sitting up, he glanced at Justin briefly before undoing the Velcro straps on his gloves and slapping them onto the bench next to him. "Yeah, well. I think I was the jerk first so let's call it even, shall we?"
Justin didn't say anything, only looked at the span of floor between his toes for a second as he shuffled his feet. Then, placing his hands on his hips, he looked up, and said, "It looks like your trap is tight." He gestured to his own shoulder. "I've got something that could help with, if you like?" When Roman smirked at him, clearly thinking something dirty, Justin punched him lightly in the arm and rolled his eyes before walking away saying, "Jesus. Just come on will you."
They worked with the medicine ball for a little while, talking exclusively about the regimen Roman's coach had him on. It had been both exciting and terrifying when Roman had been scouted from the college team so soon. Especially as having to travel had meant he wasn't going to be around so much anymore. Dating for three years and having seen his determination to be a ball player, he had known being with Roman would also mean being apart from him for long periods of time. Hearing the way Chase talked about him, he knew Roman's dreams could actually become a reality. There was nothing he would ever have done to dissuade him of that, but he'd known from the start the reality of what being a professional athlete would mean for them. But back then, even that hadn't made him doubt for one minute he and Roman shouldn't be together. It was only after the bust up that things had fallen to pieces. Which, apart from anything else, meant Justin had missed out on the last few years of Roman's life.
As they worked out, Justin guiding Roman through a series of stretches, the conversation eased, and they found themselves talking naturally about Roman's day-to-day life, the training, the team, the endless travel, and the brutal diet Justin would never have been able to stick to in a million years.
When they decided to warm down on the running machines together, Roman asked about how Justin was doing, and as they jogged they talked about his course, his friends, and what he was going to do next. It didn't escape Justin's notice that the one question Roman didn't ask was whether or not Justin had a boyfriend. Something he was pretty glad a
bout by the time the machines slowed and they came to a halt. Walking to the locker room was a little awkward. They smiled shyly at each other when Roman held the door open for Justin and they walked inside.
Justin tried his best not to pay too much attention as Roman stripped off his tee shirt at his open locker, but it was hard to miss the way he was twitching his shoulder, as if he couldn't get comfortable.
"That still giving you trouble?" Justin said, nodding in Roman's direction as he pulled a clean towel from his gym bag.
"It's not so bad. I'll ice it when I get home."
Justin thought about letting it go but figured Roman could always say no. "You want me to—?" He made a massaging action with his thumbs.
Roman swallowed hard and looked at his feet for a second before reluctantly nodding and saying quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, if that's okay with you."
"Not much point in me spending all this time in school if I can't help out here and there," Justin said as he pulled gel from his bag. Roman walked over and sat on the bench in front of him, thankfully facing away as Justin had to close his eyes when he got a noseful of the scent radiating from Roman's skin. Justin was a professional, but given his less than chaste thoughts, he definitely needed to start acting that way. "This would probably be a lot easier if you were lying down," Justin said in all seriousness as he started to work the gel into Roman's skin, gently manipulating the muscles.
"I'm pretty sure you've used that line on me before." Roman chuckled and then winced as Justin's fingers found a knot of tension. "I'm pretty sure Jackson wouldn't be too happy finding us like that either."
Justin's cheeks heated at the implication. "Are you kidding me? He'd probably offer me a job on the spot."
"Yeah, probably." Roman went strangely quiet for a moment. Justin was about ready to stop when Roman turned his head slightly and asked, "Hey. Would you like to go get a coffee with me?"
Justin had to catch his breath, but before he knew it, he was nodding and saying, "Sure. Do you mean like…?"
"Now is good," Roman said quickly. "I mean, if you don't already have plans." Hearing him so nervous was quite something. He had always been a quiet sort of person, but he'd never exactly been insecure around Justin.
"No plans," Justin said, finishing up and stepping away from Roman, giving him a pat on the back to indicate he was done.
"Okay then," Roman said as he got up from the bench, rolling his shoulder and smiling. "That feels great. Thank you."
It was Justin's turn to feel slightly nervous then, shrugging and turning away as he tried to play it down. "No problem. All part of the service." He grabbed his towel and wash bag and pointed to the showers, saying, "I'm just gonna—"
He was grateful when Roman gave him a head-start, and when he did join him in the showers, he took the cubicle farthest away. Justin considered himself a good person, but even he wouldn't have been able to resist that sort of temptation.
He was dressed and combing his hair when Roman made an appearance. It was tempting to look over and get a glimpse when Roman dropped his towel and pulled on his pants. Justin figured he might apply for a sainthood when he made do with the dull reflection in the door. Although by the time they made it to the coffee house across the street, all bets were off. Being so close to Roman again, seeing his smile and experiencing the way they fell into step next to each other as they walked, was sheer agony.
The small coffee house was pretty busy, steamy and warm in contrast to the cold, crisp air outside. Where the tables were full of people, there were shopping bags crowded between their legs and heavy coats draped on the backs of chairs. Justin sent Roman to find them a place to sit while he went to the counter and ordered for both of them. He knew Roman had muttered something about a latte but he went ahead and ordered protein shakes and what looked like a healthy muffin drenched in seeds, as well as coffees. He was grateful that there was table-service so he could simply pay, grab a handful of napkins, and push through the crowd to find his seat.
Roman had managed to wrangle a table for two near the front window. He was shaking hands with an older man who had his arm around a kid wearing a baseball shirt under his duffel coat. Justin had been around Chase long enough to know Roman had probably already signed his messy scrawl of an autograph on the kid's chest and told him all the things a parent would want his child to hear about staying in school and working hard. Justin smiled at the look of genuine gratitude on Roman's face as the boy earnestly babbled away to him. He was glad when father and son left, waving goodbye as Justin got to the table.
"Getting mobbed by fans already?" he teased as he slipped off his jacket and placed it over the back of the chair.
"Totally. He's on the little league team and just wanted to catch up while I'm in town."
"I'm surprised Chase hasn't been running you ragged the whole time you've been home."
Roman chuckled. "Once a coach, always a coach. You forget your wallet or something?" he asked, looking pointedly at the empty table between them.
"Hold your horses, bucko. It's on its way." Justin pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Something about the way Roman's eyes lay heavily on him made Justin regret the gesture for a moment, especially when Roman's tongue snuck out to lick his lips.
"Thanks for coming out with me," Roman said. "Especially after the other night."
Justin shrugged. "Forget about it."
"I don't want to forget about it," Roman said, but realizing how it sounded, quickly backtracked. "I mean, I want to apologize. I shouldn't have put you in that position and I'm…I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you like that."
"It wasn't your fault," Justin said. "It was Tyler and Joel's fault for thinking shoving us in a closet was going to somehow magically fix things. Plus, you were drunk. I knew you didn't mean it."
"I meant it," Roman said, sounding almost offended. "Hell, I would kiss you now if I thought you really wanted me to. But I know you stopped wanting me a long time ago."
A pain flared in Justin's chest so sharply, he had to raise a hand and press it to his heart. "You know it's not that simple," he said, "after all the things you said, I have a hard time believing you mean that."
Roman's brow furrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest. "What did I possibly say that could make you think that? I know you were upset when I told you I loved you, that you weren't ready to say it back, even though I know you loved me too, but I don't see why you would think I would stop caring just because you did."
It was Justin's turn to be confused then. "I wasn't upset when you told me you loved me," he said, the words coming out almost as a question. "I was upset about all the other shit." Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. "Look. I don't want to argue about this again."
"We don't have to argue," Roman said, leaning his arms on the table. "It's just that the more I think about it, the more I can't seem to quite understand why we broke up in the first place."
Justin's mouth flapped open in surprise. "You know why. We talked about it."
"No. I remember you yelling at me about something one of the guys on the team had said."
"I don't yell," Justin bristled. "I was just shocked when I found out exactly how you were talking about me behind my back. Saying you'd jump at the chance of an open relationship once you left for college? That you were already looking forward to getting your dick wet with someone else? Does that ring any bells?"
Justin had expected Roman to be remorseful, apologize again. The last thing he expected was for Roman to look him dead in the eye and say, "No. It doesn't. I never said that. I would never have thought it, let alone said it. Not then and not now." He frowned again, before adding, "Who the hell told you I said that?"
7
Justin was slashing open a box of bar snacks in the kitchen when Cherry barged in through the swing door, interrupting him.
"Your girlfriend is here," she said, in that way she had that let him know exactly how she felt about Casey showing up whil
e Justin was working. She looked a little surprised when Justin slammed the box cutter down on the counter and leaned heavily on his arms, hanging his head and taking a deep breath. He really wasn't looking forward to the conversation he was facing, mostly as he didn't think he could keep his temper. "You okay, hun?" she asked, sounding worried and motherly but not encroaching on his space.
"I guess so." He sighed. "Or I will be."
Justin had spent the last two days stewing over what Roman had told him. They'd spent hours going over what had happened five years before, every word they had spoken to each other, all the things they should have said and done at the time. By the time the coffee ran out, Justin still didn't know quite what to think or feel. Roman appeared in much the same state as he had gotten into his car and driven away.
There had been no attempt on Justin's part to try to hide his emotions from his family, but nothing in the world would have made him explain what had gone on. It was partly shame, partly he was feeling so stupid that he'd ruined the best thing in his life because of his own insecurities.
Casey had sent several texts, all of which has gone unanswered, but being she had turned up at the bar, it was clear he couldn't avoid the confrontation any longer.
Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders, pushed out his chest, and headed for the door, ready to take on any of the bullshit she was about to feed him.
The bar wasn't busy thankfully, and the customers sitting at the tables had all been topped up recently enough that no one looked over at him expecting a food order to arrive or with their wallets in their hands ready to come to the bar.
The Christmas hit playing on the old jukebox was chirpy and tinkly and the complete antithesis of how Justin was feeling when he saw Casey lounging on the bar with her folded arms.