“Perfect. See you tomorrow?”
Wren smiled up at him. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”
Someone rapped knuckles on the door and Fisher looked up.
“Do you have a minute?” Turner Scott was standing there, one eyebrow lifted.
“Of course,” Fisher said. “Wren, you can head out. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
Wren nodded. “Hi, Mr. Scott. Um, thanks again for the job.”
“Well, you came highly recommended,” Scott said, giving her a nod in return.
Turner Scott wasn’t a big man, but he liked to think he was. It showed in the way he squared his shoulders, puffed his chest, walked on his tiptoes like he thought it added inches to his height. He settled himself in one of the small chairs kept near Fisher’s desk with his lips pinched together, tugging his vest back into place as Fisher sat opposite.
“How can I help you?” Fisher asked.
Scott shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position. “You need adult-sized chairs in here.”
If he added adult-sized chairs, the parents tended to stay too long, happy to keep chatting on about this or that as long as they had Fisher’s attention, but he couldn’t say that to the man who’d hired him.
“I’ll look into it,” he said instead.
Scott pinched his mouth again. “Some of the parents have come to me with… concerns.”
“Oh?” Fisher kept his posture loose, his expression calm. “Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly,” Scott said.
“Are the children not performing to standards?”
“You know they are,” Scott snapped. “You also know you’re our best and most popular teacher.”
Fisher spread his hands. So?
“This is a good Christian school,” Scott finally said. “As such, we expect you to conform to the code of ethics and decorum set forth in our handbook.”
“Decorum—have I behaved in any unsuitable way?” Fisher asked, throttling back the fury with an effort.
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“A few parents have expressed concern that you’re telling their boys it’s okay if they want to wear girls’ clothing, and encouraging their girls to pursue more… traditionally masculine activities.”
Fisher took a deep breath, flattening his hands on the table and letting the air out slowly through his nose. This is a good job, he reminded himself. It pays well and you have student loans. Do not talk back to the prissy little man with the God-complex.
“I apologize if my teaching methods have been unseemly in any way,” he said when he was sure he could keep his voice even. “I believe in teaching children to keep open minds.”
“Well, not so open their brains fall out,” Scott said, and laughed at his joke.
Fisher forced a smile. “Of course not.”
“In any case,” Scott continued. “Just try to remember that the parents of these children expect us to behave in a certain… manner. A seemly manner. We believe in raising boys to be gentlemen, and girls to be ladies. Alright?”
Fisher definitely didn’t trust his voice, but he managed a nod.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Scott said, standing. He tugged his vest down again. “I think you could be a little friendlier to some of our mothers.”
“Are you seriously implying I’m not—”
“No no,” Scott said, waving a hand. “You’re perfectly polite. But you get a lot of interest, and you don’t spend much time speaking to them.”
“Because I thought my job was teaching their children,” Fisher said through his teeth. “Not flirting with their parents.”
“No one’s telling you to flirt!” Scott said hastily. “Just… keep them happy.”
Fisher took another deep breath. “Noted. Is there anything else?”
“That’s all. See you tomorrow.” Scott nodded once and made a quick exit.
9
Felix stretched his legs out with a sigh. He hated flying, but at least the plane was built with hockey players in mind—he had plenty of legroom.
He wondered idly what Fisher was doing. Even though they’d agreed on no personal details, Felix couldn’t help the curiosity. Maybe he was a personal trainer. He had the muscles for it. Or maybe a body-builder.
On impulse, he pulled his phone from his pocket.
I hate flying :(
Fisher’s response was gratifyingly swift. How long is the flight?
Felix calculated. About eight hours longer. Kill me now.
But then where would I get mind-blowing sex? Fisher countered.
Felix snickered, glancing surreptitiously around the plane to make sure no one had noticed before he composed his reply. Leo would be offended. I think I’ll tell him.
Don’t you dare, Fisher sent back. He’d kill ME, or at least make my life unlivable for a while. Speaking of sex, when are you getting back to town?
Felix laughed out loud, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep the noise in. Didn’t I wake you up with a blowjob this morning before I left?
That was at three a.m., Fisher pointed out. Pretty sure that counts as yesterday. I just need to know how long I’m going without, here.
Felix rolled his eyes. You don’t have to go without just because I’m not in town.
Fisher didn’t reply for several minutes. I know :), he finally sent.
Saint sat down next to Felix, who jumped and locked his phone.
“Can I help you?” Felix said, sharper than intended.
Saint arched a brow. “I can’t sit by my best friend?”
“Usually you want something when you switch up your routine,” Felix said. “And since you’re not loving it up with Carmine—” Saint made gagging noises and Felix fought a laugh. “—I must assume you want something. So…?”
Saint glanced at Felix’s phone, clutched in one hand. “What’s his name?”
“Why do you assume it’s a he, cherry?” Felix countered.
“Because you’re more attracted to men, something you told me.”
“I’m never getting drunk with you again,” Felix muttered, slumping in his seat.
Saint waited, brow still arched.
There was no use trying to outwait him. “He’s just a friend,” Felix finally said.
“Uh huh. Let me guess. He’s a very hot friend who you sleep with.”
“There’s not much sleeping,” Felix admitted, lips twitching, and Saint laughed, making several heads turn.
“Knew it. Tell me about him.”
“His name is Fisher,” Felix said with a sigh. “But truly, he is just a friend. There is no relationship.”
“More of the benefits than the ‘friend with’, eh?” Saint asked. His eyes were keen but amused, and Felix smiled back at him.
“You want to see him?”
Saint rolled his eyes in response, so Felix unlocked his phone and scrolled through his pictures. He’d been over in the afternoon that day, and after they were done, Fisher had brought them both water and then collapsed on the couch, still sweaty and naked, facedown with his head turned so he could see Felix, who was on his back on the floor.
Felix had emptied half the bottle of water and then groped for his phone. Only one of Fisher’s eyes was visible but it had creased with his smile as Felix took a picture of him from the shoulders up.
“I need proof that you can get tired,” Felix had teased, and Fisher had laughed, making a half-hearted attempt to flip him off.
“Oh shit,” Saint said, taking the phone. “Good taste, Fee. Damn, he’s gorgeous.”
“He is, no?” Felix smiled and accepted the phone back.
“What does he do?”
Felix sobered. “Oh, ah… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How long ago did you meet?”
“Three weeks? Three and a half.”
“And you still don’t know what he does?”
Felix squirmed. “It’s… better
this way. Safer. No one gets their heart broken.”
“He’s okay with this?” Saint straightened. “He knows what you do, right?”
“Ah—”
“Felix.”
“He didn’t recognize me!” Felix said defensively. “There’s nothing hockey related at his house. He’s never brought it up—not that we talk much—”
Saint’s brows were pinched together, his mouth tight with worry. “Fee—”
“You saw what happened last time,” Felix managed. His throat was tightening. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“They won’t all be like that,” Saint said. “You can’t just… throw out the entire concept of a relationship because of one rotten apple.”
“You know what he did,” Felix hissed. “He—”
“I know,” Saint interrupted. “Fee, I do know. I was there, I saw it happen. I picked the pieces of you up off the floor, remember?”
“And for that I should thank you?” Felix snarled. “Saintly Saint, always repairing the broken? Have you been fitted for your halo?”
Saint flinched. “That’s not fair,” he said in a low tone.
The fight rushed from Felix all at once and he folded over, covering his face, as the guilt flooded in. “I’m sorry,” he managed through his palms. “Saint, I’m so sorry.” He sat up, turning to catch Saint’s hands. “It is the worst aspect of me, the way I hurt you when you speak truth I don’t like. Forgive me, cherry, please.”
Saint squeezed his hands. There was still hurt in his brown eyes, but the small smile he summoned was real. “I’ve known that about you since we were fifteen. If it was a deal breaker, I’d have kicked your ass to the curb a long time ago.”
“Je t’aime,” Felix said helplessly. “You know the worst of me but still you stay.”
“It’s not like I’ve never hurt you either,” Saint said. “But are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Felix sat back in his seat with a sigh. “I never know what I’m doing. Of all things, that is a given.”
Saint patted his arm. “Well, I’m right there with you.”
“Everything okay with Carmine?”
Saint sighed. “Sure. I mean yeah. No, it is.”
It was Felix’s turn to arch a brow. “Truly.”
“It is,” Saint said. “It’s just….” He shifted his weight, touching his thumb to each of his knuckles in turn—a calming ritual he’d developed when they were teenagers. “He’s gonna get sick of me.”
“Has he said something? Done something? Made you think—” Felix put his hands on the armrests, ready to leap to his feet and thrash Carmine for making Saint doubt himself for even a second—
“No! Felix, stop!” Saint grabbed his arm, pulling him back down into the seat as everyone turned to stare at them.
“Keep it down,” Roddy called from across the aisle. His sleep mask was still firmly in place, head back against the seat cushion. “Some of us have small kids and need sleep.”
“Just because you don’t know what birth control is doesn’t mean that’s our problem,” Carmine yelled from several rows up, making everyone laugh. “What is it they say about your failure to plan not being my emergency?”
Felix sank back into the seat under the raucous noise of everyone teasing Roddy. “If he hasn’t said anything, then why—”
Saint slumped, hair falling into his eyes. For a brief moment, they were fifteen again and Saint was admitting to him in a tiny whisper fueled by too much of their billet father’s pilfered whiskey that he was gay and Felix was the first person he’d ever told.
Felix took his hand again. “Talk to me, cherry.”
“You’re the only one who’s ever stuck around,” Saint said in a whisper. “Until now. And you don’t have to live with me, which is probably why you haven’t killed me.”
“Not true,” Felix said flatly. “I did live with you, remember? And you never once did anything bad enough to warrant murder.”
“Well, we never had a romantic relationship, either. Carmine—” Saint shook his hair out of his eyes.
“Carmine loves you,” Felix said. “Do you doubt that?”
“No. No, never.” Saint’s eyes softened. “I know he does. I just—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Well, stop it.”
That startled Saint into a laugh and some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
“I mean it,” Felix said, smiling back at him. “You’re perfect, cherry, and he knows it. He’s the lucky one, and I promise you he knows that, too.”
Saint wrapped an arm around Felix’s shoulders and hugged him briefly. “You’ll tell me if anything goes wrong with your new friend?”
“Yes,” Felix said resignedly. “So you can fuss and mother hen me and threaten to kill him. I know how it works.”
“As long as you do.” Saint let him go and stood, winking at him before heading back down the aisle to rejoin Carmine.
Felix waited until he was gone before he turned back to his phone and tapped out a quick message. I’ll be back in three days. Free on Thursday?
Absolutely :), Fisher sent back, and Felix smiled and locked his phone again.
10
Fisher had glitter in his hair. Felix hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy dragging him into the bedroom and pulling off his clothes, but now, with the afterglow warm in his bones and his mind quiet, the setting sun caught glints of purple and red in Fisher’s black curls, and Felix blinked, looking closer.
“What—” He plucked a fragment from the mess and held it up on his fingertip, peering at it. “Is that glitter, then?”
Fisher laughed, one muscled arm tucked under his head. “That damn stuff gets everywhere.”
Felix squinted at him. “Are you secretly a drag queen, pêcheur?”
“I could rock a pair of stilettos,” Fisher said comfortably.
“Mm,” Felix agreed, dropping his head back onto the pillow beside him. “Do wonders for those lovely legs of yours.”
Fisher’s laugh vibrated his chest and he patted Felix’s thigh. “Hungry? I was going to make salmon for dinner.”
Felix’s mouth watered. “Only if I get to pet Maya and not help you cook at all,” he said.
“No good in the kitchen?” Fisher sat up, smiling down at him.
“Hopeless,” Felix agreed, returning the smile. “And also lazy.”
“Well, as long as you pet Maya where I can see you and appreciate the view, I’m okay with this arrangement.” Fisher swung his legs out of bed.
“Oh, I am to be eye candy, then?” Felix said, feigning offense. “I’m good for nothing else?”
Fisher snorted a laugh and threw himself back on the bed, straddling Felix and pressing him into the pillows. He bent, bringing their faces together, and Felix swallowed hard. Fisher’s eyes were flecked with gold, he could see from this close, his breath warm and sweet and a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.
“I think we’ve established you have other… qualities,” Fisher said, and kissed him.
It was like Fisher’s mouth switched off Felix’s brain. All thought ceased when their lips were touching, when Fisher’s tongue was softly probing Felix’s mouth, quick and teasing, when he made a noise low in his throat and deepened the kiss.
Felix arched into it, wrapping his arms around Fisher’s neck and hanging on until Fisher tore away, breathing hard.
“No, nope,” he said, sitting up on his heels. “We already did that, and I’m hungry.”
Felix pouted at him, rocking his hips up to grind his growing erection against Fisher’s ass. “Dinner can wait, no?”
Fisher shivered, eyes drooping shut. “Fuck, you’re—”
“I’m what?” Felix prompted, trailing a finger over the thick line of Fisher’s cock.
“Hard to say no to, for one thing,” Fisher gasped, and dropped to kiss him again as Felix laughed quietly, triumphantly, and rolled them so he was on top.
* * *
After,
he sat in one of the dining room chairs, one knee drawn to his chest and his chin propped on it, as Fisher puttered around the kitchen. Maya was curled at Felix’s feet, her head on his sock. Felix unlocked his phone and scrolled his social media, checking his mentions. He got enough of them that he didn’t respond often, but he liked to find the fans that didn’t get much attention, the kids, the single mothers, the fifty-something dads, and reply to them.
He was in the middle of composing a message to a twelve-year-old on Twitter who had asked him why he used the brand of stick he did when Fisher laughed softly.
“What?” Felix asked, raising his head.
“You’re as flexible as my—” Fisher caught himself. “You’re flexible. I’ve never seen anyone over the age of ten sit like that.”
His what? Felix couldn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask. Instead he sent Fisher a slow smile.
“I find it helps with certain… activities.”
Fisher pointed the whisk he was holding at him. “It sure does, and you’re just staying over there out of the way while I do this so I don’t burn the damn fish.”
Felix laughed to himself and went back to typing. He’d just hit post when a new notification caught his eye.
Anyone know where @butterfly_39 is living these days?
Felix stiffened. Why anyone would tag him in posts like that, he’d never understood, but it happened far too often, often enough to make him consider deleting social media altogether.
A reply popped up. Dude, not cool.
Thank you, hockyluvr27, Felix thought wryly.
The first person responded almost immediately. Just wanted to see the outside of his place! His old house was sick.
Felix’s skin crawled and he locked the phone, dropping it on the table. The noise made Fisher glance up.
“Everything okay?”
Felix forced a smile. “Oui. Will you tell me about the glitter?”
“If I tell you about the glitter, you’ll know what I do for a living,” Fisher countered. “As I recall, that’s a rule you put in place. Why are you asking?”
“Because it makes me curious,” Felix admitted. “And probably no harm would come from knowing a little more about you, if our relationship doesn’t change.”
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