by Kyle Baxter
Freddie started walking back toward their gate. “There really is such a thing?”
“Oh yes, but it’s an American made-up British Batman character, if that makes any sense.” Joel took a deep breath and fixed Freddie with a serious stare. “Now, tell me the truth. Why were you hiding from those photographers? Were they looking for you? Are you like famous or something?”
“Doubtful. You’ve never heard of me.” Freddie poked him in the stomach again and smiled as Joel shrank from it. He lowered his head and took a deep breath. “Joey, look, I apologize. In my profession, we try to avoid media as much as possible, but I should not have used you to hide. It wasn’t fair.”
“Fine, I’ll chalk it up to you being a superhero—for the moment.” Joel was still suspicious but resolved to google Freddie the moment he could.
Freddie gave him a half-smile. “Okay, what about you?”
“Me, what?”
“Are you a superhero too?” Freddie asked. “You do seem to like helping people.”
“What? Maeve and the kids?” Joel stopped and looked around. They were in no hurry; they had hours. “No, I mean, how could you not? They needed help and look at how busy it is.” Crowds moved around them, everyone intent on getting somewhere.
“Don’t sell yourself short. Not everyone would stop and help.”
Joel shifted his messenger bag to his opposite shoulder. “I . . . Lately, I’ve become interested in the idea or ideal of community, you know?”
“Tell me.” Freddie looked up at him, and Joel saw genuine interest there.
“You’re in the military.” Joel waved a hand up and down his companion. “You know what it is to be of service, to try to do good. A friend of mine was a community activist during the AIDS crisis, and I dunno, it just feels like people my age—our age—should do something too, without needing a health crisis and imminent death as a reason.”
“That’s a good idea,” Freddie said. “I like it. You said that you are at loose ends. Maybe that’s your answer.”
“Possibly. Another friend of mine moved back home and got involved in a youth shelter there. I think it’s important—the little things we do,” Joel said. “No offense, but we can’t all be Special Forces.”
“No,” Freddie agreed. “And I wouldn’t want you to be.”
“No?”
“You’re perfect just as you are.” Freddie’s eyes sparkled.
Jesus, dude, stop with that, Joel thought. He was on his guard; he was already too comfortable with Freddie and they hardly knew each other. The guy’s life is in Europe for God’s sake, and his life was in NYC and Joel did not do long-distance, not anymore. Seth cured him of that when he shuffled off to LA.
After only a few weeks, the calls and Skype appointments between them got further and further apart. Then one day Seth sent him the I think we need to talk text. Their lack of proximity made their differences and problems glaring to the point that Joel asked himself, Why am I putting myself through this? He was fine ending it with Seth, even happy to do it, but Seth trading him in for a new model in under a month stung. It still hurt, and it validated all his insecurities in the relationship. Seth really didn’t love him as much as he loved Seth. Or else how could he have replaced him so easily?
I just want a little romance, not a heartbreak, Joel thought, and the idea surprised him. Wow, yeah, I do want a little romance.
At the gate, they found a spot together. Freddie dropped his duffle bag, plopped down in a chair, and settled in. Joel sat next to him and looked over the soldier’s fit body spread out beside him, their shoulders, arms, and legs touching in a familiar, natural way that generated no fear or anxiety in him. No OMG I accidentally touched a guy. How will he react? It felt perfectly right. He idly wondered how Freddie would look in a Superman shirt.
❖
Joel woke up and reflexively wiped the drool off his mouth as he lifted his head off Freddie’s chest. He lay sprawled almost on top of him, cuddling with him. IN THE AIRPORT! How did that happen? Shit shit shit!
Sitting up, he nudged Freddie, but he was already awake and smiling at him.
“Hullo.”
Joel checked his watch. “It’s almost time for boarding. Why didn’t you wake me?” Standing up, he took a deep breath and stretched his arms out before getting himself together and straightening his clothes. As much as he enjoyed this diversion, he wanted to get on with it, get to a hotel, and get a shower. He looked down at Freddie, who watched him with amusement. “Why aren’t you getting ready?”
Freddie’s fingers were interlaced and resting on his flat stomach. “Why? I’m enjoying the view. You have a cute little bum for a giant bloke.”
“All thanks to swimming and running in high school and college.”
Freddie snapped his fingers. “Swimming. I knew you were a swimmer. That’s where you got those shoulders: the breaststroke.” He held up his phone; it displayed an alert. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. There are protests in Geneva. Our flight is delayed until tomorrow.”
Joel looked up at the board that listed their upcoming flight. Sure enough, the flashing red font spelled out “delayed.” Geneva was the closest airport to Etreustein. “Shit, what are we going to do?”
“I’ll talk to the airline, find out exactly when we can get out of here.” Standing, Freddie gave Joel an affectionate bump on the shoulder and then went to see the airline staff at the desk.
Joel sent his mother a message to let her know. His family had only just checked in at the hotel and was heading to dinner.
Mom: The situation in Geneva is bad. Lots of flights are grounded. It was difficult even getting to the train station with all the protests. Stay overnight in a hotel in London. We love you.
Joel: Tell the girls I’ll be there soon. Love you too.
He shoved the phone in his jacket and sat back in the chair. Huh. Freddie was having a real discussion with the attendant. She smiled widely, and he was putting on the charm. Joel’s gut twisted. Was he jealous? No, that’s silly.
Freddie trotted back to him with a resigned but not unhappy look on his face. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning.”
Joel sat up. “There’s nothing at all—later tonight?”
“No, there are restrictions at the Geneva airport for flying in at night,” Freddie said as he sat back down. “We’re stuck here, but the airline has offered us a hotel to stay in.”
Leaning close, Joel whispered in the bearded man’s ear, “My mom said there are protests in Geneva. Do you know anything about that?”
Freddie pointed to the television hanging from the ceiling. “There was a refugee forum in Geneva recently, and this is the response: huge anti-asylum protests.”
“In Switzerland?” Joel asked. Given the country’s reputation for neutrality, this surprised him. The chyron on the television read, Violence at Swiss Anti-Immigrant Protest.
“They’re happening all over Europe. But yes, even in Switzerland. There is even an anti-immigrant, anti-EU party in Switzerland’s parliament. Anti-refugee sentiment is on the rise everywhere in Europe. People are scared and fearful,” Freddie said flatly, his brow furrowing. “It’s a shame.”
“So it’s not just us Ugly Americans?”
“No, not at all,” Freddie said. “And in Etreustein, we depend on people coming in from other countries, for business, for tourism, for everything. This ethno-nationalistic fervor rising across the continent is a big concern. It’s frightening.” He looked up at the TV again. They reran a clip of a fascist group chanting and throwing bottles at people. “I hope we never see this in Etreustein.”
Chapter Eight
Stay With Me
The taxi ride to the Garden Inn was short. So close they could see the terminal from it. It was easier not going all the way into London, though Freddie could easily find lodgings there. He was more than happy with the nice four-star hotel. In the lobby, they found tasteful, modern décor, basic and not extra, like the usual places his family
stayed.
“I’ll be right back.” He touched Joel’s shoulder as he walked toward the reservation desk. “You watch the bags.”
Joel grumbled but set his bag on the ground, next to his own. The lean guy plopped down onto a sofa. God, he’s cute. This entire situation was such a surprise. The last person he expected to run into was the nerd from the museum, but it delighted him. Freddie found the tall man physically attractive from the start, but the argument at the museum sealed the deal. Plus, Joel liked to help people. A kind, sexy, intelligent man? UNF, I could really go for him.
Freddie found himself occupied with the concierge for a long moment. The airline put them up, but the hotel had few vacancies. He hoped Joey would be okay sharing a room. It certainly was not part of some nefarious plan to bed him, though if that happened, so much the better. When Freddie turned back, he found Joel stretched out on the couch and thumbing through a magazine. With a start, Freddie recognized the picture on the cover. Scheiße.
Seeing one image, Joel snorted with laughter.
“What is it?” Freddie came up quickly beside him, wanting to head off too deep of an examination of the contents.
“It’s a travel magazine for Etreustein, you know? This article is on the royal family.” Joel shoved the periodical at him. “This is the prince or one of them, I guess. That’s one unfortunate-looking kid.”
Freddie eyed him, open-mouthed and aghast. “You think that’s funny?” Did I misjudge him? He gripped the magazine tightly.
“Yes and no. I’m sorry.” Joel’s face flushed upon him seeing the shock on Freddie’s face. He pulled his phone out, thumbed it open, and held it up to him. “This is me in high school. I was the king of unfortunate.” The image displayed was a photo of a thin, bespectacled, and acne-ridden teen with bad hair.
“Ouch,” Freddie agreed nervously. He opened the magazine and looked at the picture again. That really was a bad photo too. “Why do you even have that photo on your phone?”
Joel shrugged. “I dug it out for one of those memes. You know what you looked like then versus now? So, you see, I’m not making fun of that kid—at least I didn’t mean to. I’m just appreciating it for what it is: an ugly duckling phase, you know? A lot of us have one.” Joel pointed at the magazine. “I’m sure that kid will grow out of his. I like to think I did . . . though sometimes I feel like I’m still in it.” He tapped the picture of himself on his phone and gave Freddie a faint smile. “Now that was an unfortunate-looking kid.”
Joel was just taking the piss. Freddie understood that; it was de rigueur in the Regiment. Maybe that was why he was so comfortable with the taller man. He feels like someone I’ve known for a while.
“You’re being too hard on yourself.” Freddie suspected that was his default. He tossed the magazine onto the end table, hoping Joel would leave it alone. “I think, like that one, that it’s probably just an old photo. Like you said, a lot of us have an ugly duckling phase.”
“I doubt you did. Probably went straight from adorable moppet to hunk,” Joel groused. That made Freddie snort as he grabbed his duffle bag.
Joel picked up the magazine and looked at the photo again. “Huh, you’re right. Says here it’s the last publicly available photo. What’s that about?”
❖
“God, I was such a skinny kid.” Joel picked up the train of thought as they got into the elevator. “I had to run around in the shower just to get wet.”
Was? Freddie thought, but he kept his mouth shut.
“And my dad was this big, butch marine, a soldier—like you. He died . . .” Joel’s voice trailed off.
Freddie turned to him. “Wait, I thought your father just flew off to Etreustein?”
“That’s Hector. He’s my stepfather. He and my mom married after my biological father died. But he’s been there for me. He is my dad.”
“Do you remember your father?” Freddie asked.
“Yeah, his name was Joseph. Luckily, he and my mom took lots of videos when they were kids so I can always look him up and keep the memories fresh. I used to be afraid that I’d forget him. Hector—my dad—is a good man, and I love him, don’t get me wrong, but . . .”
Freddie nodded. “You still miss Joseph sometimes.”
“Yeah, and I feel bad for doing it, like I’m being disloyal to Hector somehow.” Joel took a deep breath. “Wow, that was a non sequitur.”
“You talk a lot.” The elevator door opened, and Freddie led the way.
“I’m sorry. Is that too much information?” Joel slowed.
“Not at all. I like it,” Freddie assured him and moved his duffle bag to the opposite shoulder. Joel was almost bubbly, and it delighted Freddie. Americans were always so open and gregarious—and loud. It was a fun change of pace from the sometimes reserved Brits. Not that his mate, Noah, could ever be called reserved, but he was Scottish. “I’ve been running around on my own for the last week, at loose ends. Alone. This is nice.”
“No friends here?” Joel asked.
“There are people I know in London, but I wouldn’t exactly call them friends,” Freddie said Joel trailed after him. They kept talking as they walked down the hallway. “Most of the people I’m closest to are my military buddies, blokes in the Regiment.”
“Work friends?”
“Work friends are still real friends if you want them to be.” Was he too sharp? He didn’t mean to be, but lumping people like Noah into a category felt like diminishing him. He loved Noah.
“You’re right. Anyway, sports like football weren’t really open to me,” Joel continued, his spirit undampened. “I was always a scrawny kid, you know? Not like you. Do you play rugby?”
“Oh yes, I played lots of rugby.” Freddie said. “But I haven’t been on a proper pitch in a while.”
“You in a rugby uniform, there’s a fantasy.” Joel blushed and ducked his head quickly. “Did I just say that out loud? I am so sorry.”
“That doesn’t bother me a bit, Joey.” Freddie grinned. “In fact, I’m more than happy to fulfill that fantasy when and where you want.” That made the tall guy turn even redder, and Freddie blushed in return.
He stopped and looked up and down the long hallway for their room. It lay just ahead. A woman darted around them in a huff, dragging her luggage on wheels. Over her shoulder, she gave them a look and Freddie realized with a start that they were barely walking. So caught up in their conversation, they were all but strolling down the hallway. Quit the flirting and get in the room, you ponce.
“In high school, I started working out, running, eating differently.” Joel kept going, to Freddie’s delight. “Never got big, but I got into shape for swimming and running.”
“And that turned you into this runway model?” Freddie slid the entry card over the electronic handle and turned, looking Joel up and down. The American’s face flushed bright red again. Teasing him was fun.
“You little shit,” Joel gibed and gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder.
“Do you like little?” Freddie’s eyes widened. Did I really just ask that? What is it with me? I’m being so cheeky. This guy makes me . . . randy. Recovering, he indicated himself. “Again, not British, and I’ve been out of the country for a long time with little . . . uhm, release.”
Joel favored him with his crooked smile, and that twinkle in his eye was back. “When you’re over six feet tall, you kinda have to, but yes, I like little.”
“Good, I like tall, lanky, and goofy . . .” Freddie walked into the room and held the door open for Joel.
“Goofy?”
“Goofy,” Freddie said firmly. He liked it a lot; it was like catnip. “But as we have only just met, I got us separate beds.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that . . . Uh, it’s not that I’m not . . .” Joel stammered. “It’s not that . . . you’re not unattractive.”
“Thank you. You’re not unattractive too.” Freddie smirked and gave a slight bow as Joel walked all the way in. Freddie followed and set his
duffle bag on the floor beside the far bed.
“But I don’t do that. I don’t sleep around.” Joel pulled off his jacket and tossed it on his bed. “Anymore. I used to be . . . wilder? But I’m trying to make better choices.”
Freddie nodded; he could relate. He’d sewn his own wild oats. “Fair enough, no pressure, no fooling around, but if you have a change of heart, you can wander over to my bed.” Freddie gestured to it with a flourish. “And we can spoon, all right?”
Joel tapped a finger on his large chin. “Hmmm.”
“Big spoon or little spoon?” Freddie asked, genuinely curious. This was an important question.
Joel thought about that for a moment. “Uhm . . . yes.”
“Good boy.” Freddie hung up his jacket in the closet. He picked up Joel’s jacket from where he tossed his and did likewise with a deep sigh. He’s a mess. Why do I always attract the messy guys? It’s kismet.
“This is nice.” Joel threw his messenger bag on his bed and looked around. Two full-sized beds lay beside each other, close enough you could just scoot over to the other. They faced a dark wooden desk with a large-screen TV hanging above it. Two fluffy white robes lay waiting on each bed for them.
“Courtesy of the airline.” Freddie stepped over to his own bed, sat down, and pulled his boots off.
“I like Etreustein Air.” Joel gave him a thumbs-up. His phone rang with a pop song ringtone. Joel glanced at it before tossing it on the bed.
“Seth?” Freddie asked, seeing the caller ID. Must be a boyfriend. Of course he has a boyfriend.
“Ex-boyfriend.” A rumble came out of Joel’s throat.
Freddie kept the smile from breaking over his face as he took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. There’s no boyfriend. Good. “Does he do that a lot? Keep in touch?”
“Honestly, he calls a little too much for my liking,” the tall man said as he sat and took off his shoes. He tossed them toward the closet. “He’s trying to be friends and that’s nice, but—”
“If you don’t like it, tell him to stop.” Sighing, Freddie bent and straightened Joel’s shoes in the closet.