by Amy Aislin
“Damn.” Roman’s eyes laughed at him. “Here I thought I’d covered all my bases.”
Speaking of bases . . . “Can I borrow you for a second?”
Roman glanced around them as if they weren’t already standing alone near the library’s large picture windows. “Uh, sure.”
Cody led the way through the empty admin office area, poked his head into the lunchroom. Empty. Good. Beckoning Roman inside, he shut the door behind them, backed Roman up against it, and kissed the crap out of him.
He’d shocked Roman. He could tell by the way Roman mumbled something that was muffled against his mouth and by the tight grip that landed on his hips before they relaxed. That grip turned caressing. Exploratory. Roman kissed him back like he couldn’t breathe without him.
It was exactly what Cody had needed all evening.
Their bodies were straining toward each other when Roman pulled back, his small smile a mix of befuddled and happy. “What was that for?”
“Mostly a thank you for tonight. Also, I just wanted to.” Needed to. Cody kissed him again, light and fast, and said, “I need a lift home.”
“That so?”
Cody hummed. “And I think you should stick around for a while. The night maybe?”
“I can make that happen.” Roman’s voice was sun-kissed gravel. “But first, some more of this.”
He kissed Cody again. Harder. More desperate. By the time they were ready to leave, flushed and overexcited, they had to hold their coats in front of themselves to hide just how overexcited they were.
MARCH 2011
The first Tuesday in March—Town Meeting Day—was a public holiday in Vermont. It was a day off for many people since schools and most businesses were closed. This year the library, simply by virtue of trying to prove that it had value, remained open. Since all of the full-time employees were at the town meeting—as they should be to hear first-hand the verdict on whether or not they’d be shut down—Cody and the two part-time circulation desk workers were left to staff it.
Hovering near the bay windows overlooking the parking lot, searching for any sign of Eileen and the other librarians, he pulled his phone out and texted Kate, the library’s admin assistant. Anything???
When there was still no answer several minutes later, he paced through the library to keep himself busy, chatting with students using the public computers, recommending books to one of the older book club ladies, tracking down a wayward history volume for a high schooler. Dodging children, stomach cramping the longer the day went on, he shelved returned books, checked out customers, nudged books so the spines lined up with the others on the shelf, re-shelved a couple into the correct alphanumeric order, tugged out a few well-loved ones with broken spines just to see what they were.
This was a good space. Lively. Bright. Welcoming. What would become of it if the budget didn’t get approved? Where would all of these books go? It made him sad to know that they might not be enjoyed ever again, that their covers might remain unopened, their contents undiscovered. Had he done enough to help save the library? What if the town council saw his efforts as a big old farce, as desperation with no real result?
If he was honest with himself? His events had been poorly planned and executed. Not having any event planning experience and this being his senior year of college, he’d had a lot on his plate. He’d done his best and he’d learned a lot, but it hadn’t been until Roman’s talk that he’d felt like he’d really accomplished something that could make all the difference in today’s meeting.
One of the other part-timers was manning the floor, so he headed into the admin offices to re-read Kate’s notes for the fundraiser. The black-tie gala was tentatively scheduled for three Mondays from now. Cody wasn’t convinced that a gala was the right approach for their little community or that three weeks was enough time to get a decent attendance list, but Kate was convinced people would come for a chance to meet their state hockey team. Half of the Trailblazers were attending along with coaches and some of their management. Kate had a hold on chair and table rentals, food and decorations, and a cleanup crew.
It all hinged on today’s decision.
Bored, he dug into his backpack and pulled out the mail he’d stopped to pick up on his way into the library earlier. An official-looking envelope for Mitch with the logo of the Boston NHL team and a letter from their college reminding them to register for graduation were the only pieces of official mail among the handful of flyers and junk.
Nothing from his potential future grad school. Six to eight weeks, the confirmation letter had said, and he was sitting at eight exactly. Any day now he’d know if he was about to break Mitch’s heart or Roman’s.
When he thought about it that way, he wanted to sink into the floor.
Worse, he hadn’t even told Roman yet that he’d applied to grad school in Boston. It was like Mitch had said—he couldn’t let a maybe keep him from living his life. So he’d buried grad school into a deep, dark corner of his brain until he had an official response, but now it felt like he was lying to Roman by omission. Would Roman even want a long-distance relationship? Would he?
Tabling it for the moment, he dragged out a cart of returned books, and that was when he saw her—a tiny, white-haired bundle of determination. She crossed the parking lot as if she had orders to do so, loose slacks flowing around sensible yet classy short-heeled boots and a knee-length wool coat billowing behind her. Cody couldn’t see her face; she held the popped collar of her coat up to shield it from the chill wind. Behind her marched two of the full-time librarians. Expressionless, both of them.
Swallowing hard, he tucked himself up beside the window, out of the entrance’s direct line of sight, suddenly not wanting to confront a truth he might not like. The hiding, however, was so unlike him that he got antsy and began to fidget, tapping the toe of his boot against the floor before they’d made it halfway to the admin office area. Hustling, he caught up just as they entered the office.
Eileen shed her coat, flinging it onto the nearest desk, her scarf following shortly after. Stoic-faced, the other two librarians hung their coats in the staff closet. Cody tapped the toes of one foot against the floor as they took their sweet-ass time getting settled. Finally, nerves launching him across the room, he got in Eileen’s face.
“Well?”
She jolted, big eyes blinking rapidly. “Oh. Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, I thought Kate told you.” Cody fumbled his phone out of his pocket as she continued. “The budget was approved; many citizens spoke on our behalf—”
“Loudly,” Helga, one of the other librarians, interjected.
“Yes,” Eileen confirmed with a chuckle. “Quite loudly. And your speaker series was a huge selling point. Especially your Mr. Kinsey’s. People are still talking about it.”
Your Mr. Kinsey’s. Well, didn’t that just give him the warm fuzzies? “They are? I did good?”
“You did great, Cody.” She patted his shoulder. “And if the fundraiser raises as much as Kate anticipates, we’ll be able to hire a full-time program coordinator to help us keep it up.”
The world rosy and bright again, Cody threw both arms up and whooped, just like he had last night, jumping off the couch when Roman had scored against Colorado. He’d sent Roman a series of texts with numerous exclamation points, followed by one telling him that the Trailblazers needed more shots on goal. That was what this moment felt like—a series of exclamation points.
Ignoring Kate’s unread message, he texted everyone he could think of that would care about the results of the town meeting. Really, it was only four people—Roman, Mitch, Alex, and his mom.
His mom’s reply came in first. Woohoo :) :) Nice job, Cody! Proud of you xoxoxo
Next came the ever-practical Alex’s. Of course they approved it. You did a great job proving that it’s a needed place. Plus the selectboard has to think about re-election, right? Imagine the angry citizens had it been shut down.
And then Mitch. Fuck yeah!!!!!!
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Finally, Roman. Knew you’d succeed! Congrats, babe. Celebrate tonight?
Oh, hell yes with a cherry on top.
There was something to be said for having Cody spend five days with him during his spring break. When Roman went to practice or team meetings, Cody found something to occupy his time, and he inevitably returned to Roman’s apartment with something useful for him. Fresh produce, a sample bag of coffee, a butter dish, and, once, a box of microwavable popcorn he’d picked up when Roman had mentioned wanting a relaxing evening at home watching a movie and eating popcorn.
If that relaxing evening morphed into something more toe-curling, Roman wasn’t going to complain about it.
It didn’t hurt that Cody was still riding the high from the Glen Hill town meeting two weeks ago. He was full of energy that he expended on Roman: grocery shopping for him, making the occasional meal, foot rubs, sex. Honeybun had accused him of having a rosy glow at this morning’s practice.
“Let’s just say I’m reaping some benefits.” Very, very good benefits.
For those few days Cody spent with him, Roman had someone to come home to, share meals with, and have sex with on the regular. Cody did yoga in the mornings; they shopped for groceries together; took walks through the Church Street Marketplace to enjoy the light festival; sat on the balcony cozied under a warm blanket with hot chocolates, admiring the lights from afar; relaxed on the couch with a book; and went on a day trip to Stowe, hitting up the Ben & Jerry’s factory on the way. Oddly—or maybe not so oddly—sharing an apartment was almost instinctive, everything from lounging around, to cooking dinner, to showering and shaving together, and Roman slathering on Honeybun’s candy cane-scented lotion to Cody’s muttered, “That’s why you always smell like mint.” It was perfect.
Perfect, except for the fact that Roman was keeping an essential part of himself from Cody, and he didn’t like that he was still keeping that secret. Where once he never would’ve contemplated divulging that part of himself, now he felt like a liar. Just that it took a lot of trust to tell someone you’d once been homeless.
As far as Roman could tell, Cody was a metaphorical open book. No topic was off-limits to him. In equal measure, he talked about the last two library speaker events, how surprisingly interesting he was finding his psychology of health and wellness class, how nervous he was for the Hockey East Quarterfinals next weekend, and about his doubts on his and his dad’s relationship improving despite his dad’s pending retirement.
Cody, being Cody, didn’t push Roman for answers on his past even though Roman knew he had them in spades. Roman also knew that it wasn’t from lack of interest—it was Cody giving Roman space.
For the first time in his entire life, Roman thought he’d had enough space and was ready to talk. If that wasn’t proof he trusted Cody with his heart, his soul, his very self, then he didn’t know what was.
He was debating how to start that conversation while he cooked them dinner on Cody’s last night. Cody was heading back to Glen Hill in the morning to spend tomorrow and Friday with Mitch before flying to Texas for his dad’s retirement ceremony on Saturday.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Cody asked from his lounge on the couch.
“I’m good.”
Cody’s version of helping involved taste testing and nothing else.
The potatoes were already in the oven. All that was left was barbecuing the hamburger patties. Pulling on his boots and winter gear, he grabbed the plate with the patties, gave Cody a kiss on the head as he passed, and headed outside.
Cody joined him a minute later, in boots, loose jeans that looked like he’d had them forever, and one of Roman’s Trailblazer hoodies that swamped his leaner frame.
He handed Roman a steaming mug of coffee. “You left this inside. Thought you might want it.”
“Thanks.” Roman took a small sip. Setting the mug aside freed up his arm, and Cody tucked himself into his side.
“It’s not as cold out as I thought.”
“It helps standing next to a steaming hot barbecue.”
“And you.” Cody kissed his jaw. “The burgers smell amazing. Can’t believe you made them from scratch. I’ve only ever made the frozen box stuff.”
Well hell. If there wasn’t a better opening . . . “I learned to appreciate good food after being homeless for a few months.”
The next few seconds of silence were worse than when Coach Moore and Kas had walked in on him kissing a figure skater.
“What?” Cody stepped away far enough to look him in the eye, but his arms stayed around Roman’s waist. In the dark, under the balcony’s yellow light, Cody’s face was drawn.
“It was during the major junior season where I was outed.” It was easier to flip the burgers than to look Cody in the eye. “You already know that my parents kicked me out, my host family too. Kas wouldn’t let me stay with him.” Because he was angry, not because he cared one whit about Roman’s sexual orientation, he reminded himself. “I lived out of my car until the end of the season, sneaking into our arena at night to sleep in the locker room if it was too cold outside. Once the season was over, I went south for warmer weather and hit up the first ECHL tryout I could find. Still had to live in my car until I had enough saved for first and last month’s rent, but before I could do that, the team’s defensive coach somehow figured out what I was doing and convinced management to give me an advance. He even set up an apartment for me too.”
It had been a relief to know that not every coach was like his major junior head coach, the fucker who’d outed him to his parents and host family. In hindsight, it should’ve shed light on other things too, but he’d been too blind to see them.
“Roman, I . . .” Cody’s whispered words wavered and trailed off.
Roman mustered a tired smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“What? No, I—”
“I was worried you’d want to come out as a couple and . . .” Where was he going with this train of thought? Backing away, needing the space to think, he leaned his butt against the balcony railing, smoke from the barbecue ghosting between them.
“And you thought if we did, you’d end up homeless again,” Cody said.
“Not homeless necessarily,” Roman said to his boyfriend who sometimes saw too much. “When I was outed, I lost everything except hockey. So hockey’s the only thing I’ve focused on since then.” He looked away, out into the marketplace. “Felt like it was the only thing I could rely on. The one thing I could actively try to be better at and succeed. And if I played a shit game, it’d be blamed on my skills, not on my sexuality. There are no homos in hockey. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?” Cody cupped his cheek, and Roman turned his head to kiss his wrist. “I was afraid that you’d want to come out—to the team or the public. Both maybe. I was afraid that I’d lose everything again. Including you.”
Panic, distress—something uncommonly bleak flashed across Cody’s face. A furrow marked his brow, his thumb sweeping across Roman’s cheekbone. “I’d never pressure you to do something you weren’t ready for.”
“I know that.” Roman brought Cody’s cold hand from his face to his lap and held it in both of his. “Didn’t take me long to figure that out about you.”
Cody’s head tilted, the furrow deepening. “You were afraid?” he said, noting Roman’s verb choice as Roman had known he would.
“Hi. I’m Roman. I’m capable of emotional growth.”
The furrow finally disappeared when Cody threw his head back for a belly laugh. Stepping in between Roman’s spread thighs, he hugged Roman’s head to his chest. Roman slipped his arms around Cody’s waist, Cody’s chest shaking with laughter against him.
Cody kissed the top of his forehead. “Does that mean you want to come out to your team?”
That familiar spike of hot fear speared his heart. “I . . .”
“You know what? Never mind.” Cody stepped back, waving his hands like he was trying to erase his question fr
om existence. “Forget I asked. You don’t have to decide that right this minute. Or even five months from now. Or ever. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. We’re on your timeline.”
Standing, Roman pressed a quick kiss to Cody’s chapped and cold lips. “Why are you so understanding?”
“I grew up with Mitch. I know what it’s like for gay athletes. You’ll notice he and Alex haven’t come out to hardly anyone except those closest to them, right? And they’ve been together a lot longer than you and me.”
“I think . . .” Taking a deep breath, he blew it out through his nose. “I’d like to come out to the team. Not the public. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. But the team?” Nobody thought any differently of Ritz and Honeybun or Kas and Cotton. It stood to reason that he wouldn’t lose everything this time. “I want to tell them soon. I want them to know that I’m with you.”
Between one blink and the next, Cody was standing toe to toe with him, hands cupping his neck. In the light of the sconce above the balcony door, his eyes were determined and steady. “And I’m with you.”
“Yeah,” Roman whispered before Cody’s mouth crashed onto his. It was messy and wet, and they held on tightly, breathing roughly . . .
Until the scent of burned meat reached them at the same time.
Cody pulled back, gaze cutting to the barbecue. “You might want to get that.”
“Right.”
Smoke billowed and swirled around them as Roman transferred the slightly charred patties onto a plate. Once that was done, he covered them with a bowl to keep them warm.
“Roman?”
He turned to Cody, standing behind him, huddling in his hoodie for warmth.
“Thank you for telling me. And I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m not.” Putting the tongs down, he reeled Cody closer. “It brought me here.”
“Yeah. It did. Roman?”
He grunted.
“I have something I need to tell you.” Cody stepped back, eyes pinched, lips in a thin line.