by Amy Aislin
You know what, ignore those last few texts.
SCORE!!!! The Trailblazers win!!! (See what happens when you take SHOTS ON GOAL?!?!)
Roman was laughing outright by the time he reached Cody’s last text, and the desire to be there with him was so strong he texted back without thinking about what he was saying.
One: thank you for the feedback. I think.
Two: Dean totally is the enemy, the bastard.
Three: you sound like Dean AND my coach with your shots on goal business.
Four: I would like to be your man. If you’ll let me.
Jesus, now he was sweating from that last one. Him, who hadn’t trusted a single person in years, wanted to be Cody’s boyfriend. What was happening to him?
“Okay.” Ritz sat next to him, showered and dressed, and pulled on a pair of socks with a purple and pink zigzag pattern. “First you’re laughing, and now you look like you’re about to pass out. Your girlfriend break up with you with a bad joke or something?”
“Huh? Girlfriend?” Roman’s armpits were soaked.
“Attention everyone!” Zanetti came back into the locker room from where he’d been talking to the press in another room. “The enemy requests entrance to the sacred locker room!”
“You’re hilarious, Zanetti,” came the sound of Dean’s voice before the man himself walked in, clad in a black suit with a white shirt and forest green tie.
Ha! Cody wasn’t the only one thinking of Dean as the enemy. Roman made a mental note to tell him later.
Dean caught sight of him and grinned wide. “Hey, man.” Roman rose, and they did that dude-bro, hand-clasp, one-armed hug thing that was so popular among men his age. Dean gave him a once-over afterwards and said, “Why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”
“What? No.”
“Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Ritz muttered. “Might it have something to do with the girlfriend?” He reached for the phone Roman had left on the bench.
“Stop that.” Roman snatched it out of Ritz’s hand. “There’s no girlfriend,” he said before he could think better of it. It would’ve made a good enough excuse, but he didn’t think he could pretend like that with Cody at the forefront of his thoughts.
On Ritz’s other side, Honeybun finished getting dressed and pulled on a wool coat. “Boyfriend then?”
Panic engulfed Roman’s chest, squeezing it tight, his palms tingling, even as he remembered Ritz freaking out over a Honeybun with pneumonia, and Honeybun placing his hand in the back pocket of Ritz’s jeans, and Ritz’s use of the universal we.
“Hey.” In his ever-narrowing peripheral, he saw Dean hold out a hand. “Alex Dean. We’ve played against each other, but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
Pulse pounding in his ears, Roman put on his shoes, slipped into his coat. Going through the motions was automatic, the voices of Dean, Ritz, and Honeybun wavering in and out like a badly tuned radio. Eventually, what seemed like minutes later but was likely only thirty seconds, Dean said goodbye to the guys and turned to him.
“I was going to invite you over for a drink, but I’m thinking we need a bar and about a dozen drinks.”
Roman rubbed his temples. “I don’t really drink. Unless it’s coffee. I could use coffee. Got some of that?”
Dean did indeed have some of that Roman learned twenty minutes later. He sat on a barstool at the island in Dean’s apartment in Liberty Village while Dean got the coffee going. The apartment itself was interior-designer bland: white with dark brown accents, stainless steel appliances, floors done in white and gray tile, generic art on the walls, leather furniture.
“You’re not living here permanently, are you?”
“God no,” Dean said, glancing around the apartment with a curled lip. “This place is sterile. It’s just until Mitch and I find a house we like. No luck yet.”
“Mitch? But didn’t he get drafted by Boston?”
“Yeah, and he’ll live there during the season—or on Rhode Island if he gets sent to their AHL team. Which I doubt,” he added under his breath. “But he’ll be here as much as he can, as well as for most of the summer, and I want it to feel like home for him. Now tell me.” He put the coffee beans away in a cupboard and took the stool next to Roman. “What’s got you freaking out? Aside from outing yourself to your team.”
On autopilot, Roman went to object the claim but stopped when he remembered who he was talking to. “I guess you know about me and Cody.”
“Mm-hmm. Mitch mentioned it. Neither of us are ones to gossip, though, so it’s not like we’ve been talking about you guys behind your backs. He just mentioned that you guys went on a date.”
“Yeah, it’s . . .” Blowing out a breath, Roman ran a hand over his head. “When you fell for Mitch, did it scare you to death?”
“No.” The small smile on Dean’s face . . . Roman wanted someone to smile about him that way, all gooey and soft. “When I fell for Mitch, everything clicked into place. It’s what’s come after that’s made me nervous.”
“How so?”
The sound of the coffee brewing played in the background as Dean said, “The distance. We’ve been in a long-distance relationship almost since we met. I don’t worry about out of sight, out of mind. But I do worry that it’ll get to be too much for him one day.”
Roman’s eyebrows flew up. “Dean. The man thinks the sun rises and falls at your feet. He’s gone over you. I barely know the guy and I can see it. You have to know that.”
The big man blushed, and those twin spots of color on his cheeks made Roman forget about his own troubles for a second because Alex Dean blushing was just . . . not normal.
“Yeah,” Dean said, suddenly finding the top of the island super interesting. “I do know that. But it’s something I worry about anyway. What is it you’re worrying about? You worried you’re falling for Cody?”
And they were back to him. Sighing at how cleverly Dean had managed to bring the conversation back around, he leaned an elbow on the island and propped his head in his hand. “It’s too late for that. I’ve already fallen for him. And I find that I trust him, which is even scarier for me than falling for him. It’s been a long time since I trusted anyone.”
Dean pursed his lips. “I don’t know what it was that made it difficult for you to trust, but it’s like I said during tonight’s game—if you want to win, you need more shots on goal. Life is the same. If you want a chance with Cody, you have to be willing to take that shot even though it’s scary. But you’re the only one who gets to decide if that’s a shot you’re willing to take. And I’m guessing you are since you took him on a date.”
“Yeah, I am.” Roman could admit that to Dean because it was something that he’d admitted to himself already. “But it’s like you said—I worry anyway because any second things could change.”
“True.” The coffee ready, Dean rose to pour them each a cup. “Black?” When Roman nodded, he passed a mug over. “But what’s the alternative?” he said, resuming their conversation. “Live life in a safe little bubble at the cost of potential lifetime happiness?”
Roman took a sip as Dean retook his seat, burning his tongue in the process, and regarded Dean over the top of his mug. “I never took you for a risk-taker.”
“I’d risk anything for him, as he would for me,” Dean said bluntly. “It’s what makes the fear worth it. I know you and Cody are just at the beginning of your relationship, but at some point you’ll have to decide if you’d be willing to risk everything for him.”
Gnashing his teeth together, Roman closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. “Fuck you, Dean. I should’ve gone back to the hotel. You’ve given me way too much to think about.”
“Sorry?” Dean’s grin belied his apology. “If it helps, I think you’re a risk-taker too.”
“Doesn’t help.” Roman gulped coffee, scalding his throat.
“Would it help if I told you Cody was worth it?”
Staring into his coffee, Roma
n thought about the innocent kiss on the cheek when Cody had gifted him his scarf, and his heart turned to mush. “I already know that.”
Roman walked into the Glen Hill Public Library two days after his team’s game in Toronto, stealthily, a small stack of books tucked under one armpit. Pausing in the doorway, he looked left, right.
No Cody.
Double-timing it, he marched up to the checkout counter, recognizing the orange-haired lady behind it as one of the library’s circulation staff, smiled his sunniest smile—which must’ve looked deranged judging by the lady’s scrunched eyebrows—and dropped the books on the counter.
“I’m returning these,” he announced, glancing wildly around him.
She checked in the first one, eyebrows scrunching further at something on her screen. “These are two weeks overdue.”
“Yeah.” He leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. “I’m hoping we can keep the fact that I messed up Cody’s library reputation between us. Look.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a few bills and some coins. “I brought my late fees in exact change. What do you say?”
There was a tiny smile on her lips as she checked in his books and took his money. She gave a jerk of her head. “He’s upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
Relieved Cody would never know that he’d abused his library card privileges, Roman climbed the stairs to the second floor. Whereas there always seemed to be a lot of activity on the first floor, the second floor was quiet and dusty. It ran the perimeter of the old house, with the middle open to the first floor. Downstairs were kids books and fiction and computers for the public’s use. Upstairs were atlases and dictionaries and encyclopedias tucked into bookshelves along the wall, some of them so old their leather spines were cracked. On one side of the second floor, by the biographies, a series of single-person study carousels currently sat empty. In the back corners were small conference rooms.
In one of those rooms was where he found Cody, counting small plastic cups filled with water that sat on a tray on the table. Next to the tray was another one holding a bunch of Danishes that had been cut into quarters. Other than that, the conference room was a generic conference room except for the stack of folding chairs propped up next to the door.
Once Cody was finished counting, Roman knocked on the doorjamb.
“Hey!” Cody’s entire face lit up.
“Hey.” Coming up next to him, Roman checked that nobody hovered at the door and threaded an arm around his waist. “What are you doing?”
“Setting up for tonight’s talk.” Cody gulped. “It’s the first one.”
“But it’s storytime tonight.”
He waved a hand. “It’s done by five-thirty. The talk starts at six. I’ve got everything ready to bring downstairs as soon as the kids and their parents are gone.” He turned worried eyes on Roman. “What if no one comes?”
“Didn’t people sign up?”
“Thirty-four people signed up, but it’s a free event. They could decide they don’t feel like coming.” He pulled at his hair. “I’m a failure already and the first one hasn’t even started yet. Event planning is the worst.”
Completely charmed by him, Roman cupped his face and kissed him.
Cody melted into him, lips softening, body going lax. The trust inherent in the gesture had Roman’s head swimming like he’d gotten up too fast. Giving one last love bite to Cody’s lower lip, he pulled back, keeping his hands on Cody’s face.
“Oh,” Cody said on a sigh. “That was nice.” His smile was dopey. “Hi.”
“Hi, Cody.”
Eyes flicking over Roman’s shoulder toward the door, Cody stepped back, out of Roman’s grasp. Roman looked over too but there was no one there. Just being cautious then.
Roman squeezed his hand. “How was your week?”
“Good.” Cody’s shoulders slumped a little. “Busy.” Scratching his temple, weary eyes met Roman’s. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah.” Roman ran a thumb along the top of Cody’s cheekbone, underneath his glasses, just below the bags that hadn’t been there last week. “You keeping up with your classes okay? You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
Cody grunted and leaned into Roman’s touch. “School’s easy compared to this.”
As someone who hadn’t graduated high school and had only received his GED in his early twenties, Roman would have to take his word for it.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“Nah. You go do storytime. I got this.”
“All right.” Running a hand down his back, Roman cuddled him close for a second. “I’ll stick around after to help you set up.”
“Yeah?” A quick smile from Cody. “Thanks. Are you staying for the talk?”
“What’s it about?”
“Someone from the admissions office at GH is coming in to talk to high school juniors about what schools look for in an application.”
GH—what Cody had once told him the locals called Glen Hill College.
Cody frowned at his pastries. “Do you think high school kids like Danishes?”
“They’re teenagers. They’ll eat anything,” Roman said, digging deep to swallow a laugh at his poor, poor Cody, so worried about everything being perfect. He was adorable in this flustered state. “And yes, I’ll stay for the talk.” Could come in useful if he ever decided to go to college. “After that I have to go home and make apple turnovers for my teammates.”
“You’re taking my idea!”
“Yeah.” Roman rubbed his jaw. “Not sure how well it’ll go over, though.” Ritz and Honeybun may have been speaking to him again, but not so the rest of the team except for when they were on the ice.
“Hmm.” Squinting at nothing while he thought, hands on his hips, Cody made another thinking sound. “You could invite them over to your place to watch the game. Any game. Whatever’s on. Ply them with food and beer and they’ll forget they were ever mad at you. Ooh, make it a potluck.”
“A potluck?”
“Sure. Everyone loves potlucks.”
Did they, though? Not that the idea of a game and food and beer didn’t have merit. Men were simple creatures. Sports, food, and booze could solve any problem.
“You might be on to something.”
“Of course I am.” Cody turned him around, pointed him at the door, and gave him a gentle tap on the butt. “Now go read to your children.”
The talk went off without a hitch.
As it turned out, Cody ended up with more than thirty-four people. Some of the teenagers brought their parents, others brought friends. Cody panicked that he didn’t have enough chairs, but everyone assured him they were fine and found spots on the carpet or on pillows filched from the children’s section that they set up along the outside of the room.
Like he’d said, Roman stuck around to help him set up. And because Mitch was the bestest best friend ever, he showed up at five-thirty like he’d promised he would when he’d dropped Cody off earlier, and between the three of them, they had the chairs set up downstairs in the main part of the library and the water and Danishes on the checkout counter well before six o’clock.
“I don’t have enough Danishes to feed everyone,” Cody said when he saw the crowd.
Mitch told him to get over it; nobody had come for the free pastries.
Roman and Mitch both sat in the audience during the talk, and during the Q&A session at the end, Mitch asked more questions than the high schoolers combined. Which was typical of Mitch—his best friend liked knowing things even if the knowledge had no relevance.
Once the talk was over, most of the audience trickled out while some stayed to browse the library. A handful of others hovered around Lydia Hamilton from the admissions office to ask more questions. In the meantime, Cody, Roman, and Mitch folded up chairs and lugged them back upstairs to the conference room. That done, he took the empty trays into the kitchen, gave them both a wash, and put them away.
Not a single Danish left. So that was an affirmative
on teenagers being a fan then.
Leaving the kitchen after drying his hands on a dish towel, he found Roman and Mitch in conversation near the front door. Roman saw him coming and gave him a smile that was brighter than the shiny trays he’d just washed.
Conscious that they were in public, Cody turned his back to the main room, obscuring the lingering patrons’ view of Roman’s torso, and ran a hand down Roman’s arm. “Thanks for staying. You didn’t have to.”
“Happy to,” Roman said in a throaty voice. His hand was warm in Cody’s. “I’m gonna head out. I’ve got apple turnovers to make. Can I see you Friday? I’d like to show you something.”
Cody brought up his schedule in his head, but with the way Roman was staring at him, all soft and inviting, he could barely remember what day it was. “Um . . .” He turned to Mitch, who leaned back against a hip-high shelf, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face.
“I don’t have a game Friday,” Mitch said.
To Roman, Cody said, “He doesn’t have a game on Friday.”
Roman’s small smile was endearingly shy. “So . . . that’s a yes?”
“Yes. I have class until three, though.”
“That’s fine. Come for dinner. I’ll feed you.”
Cody sighed in appreciation. “You do know the right thing to say.” Back to Mitch: “Okay if I borrow the car?”
Mitch waved a hand in answer.
“I’ll see you Friday then,” Cody confirmed with a nod.
Disentangling their fingers, Roman edged toward the door. “Come hungry,” he muttered with a wolfish smile, and then he was gone.
Wait. Was that a double entendre?
Stomach somersaulting at the thought, he opened his mouth to ask Mitch, but Mitch had a contemplative expression on his face. Cody fully expected him to utter some sassy comment about him and Roman, especially since Cody had teased him mercilessly when he’d first fallen for Alex, but all Mitch said was, “It just occurred to me that our boyfriends are technically rivals. Think that’ll make us rivals too?”
Cody was stuck on one thing. “He’s not my boyfriend. Is he? I mean, we’ve only been on one date. We haven’t talked about the boyfriend thing or being exclusive or . . . Gah! This is why I don’t bother dating. It’s too complicated.”