“Are you asking me on a date?”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “I am. We don’t have to hold hands or anything crazy, but maybe that’s okay too. I’m just willing to try…if you’re cool with it.”
Rory looked like he was waiting for a punch line. His mouth was set and his eyes didn’t give anything away. After twenty minutes…or two seconds, he inclined his head and grinned.
“I’m cool with it.”
I snickered at the funny face he made, and when it bubbled into something that felt like joyful release, I let go and laughed aloud. A date. I hadn’t planned on that at all. But it suddenly seemed like a great idea. Evan and Mitch’s friends were mostly recent graduates from Long Beach State, and they were a very gay-friendly crowd. We didn’t have to make any grand announcements. We didn’t have to say a word. But if he stood a little closer than usual and set his hand on my lower back, the way he sometimes did when no one was looking, I wouldn’t pull away. Not this time.
6
The twelve-pack of beer tucked under my arm weighed a ton. I felt like I was dragging an anvil up a mountain in the snow. I glanced at Evan and Mitch’s house from the sidewalk and gave myself a pep talk as we made our way to their front door—the way I might if in a huddle. This was my personal “fourth down with a yard to go at the goal line.” I could do this. And if I needed help, the guy next to me was willing to jump in. We’d talked about strategic exit plans on the way over.
“We need a signal,” Rory suggested, lifting his right hand from his steering wheel. “How ’bout a peace sign?”
“Sure, but what for?”
“I don’t know. If you feel nervous or just jumpy and you want someone close…I’ll be there.”
I twisted in my seat and studied his profile. A wave of adoration and affection hit me so hard, I lost my breath for a moment. Fuck, I loved him. No…wait. I didn’t love him. I couldn’t. It was too soon. We’d only known each other a couple of months. It wasn’t possible to feel this much for someone so fast. Or was it?
I grabbed his wrist and kissed his hand. I wanted to tell him how I felt right then and there, but I didn’t know how to say, “I want you so much, I can’t breathe sometimes.” So I nodded instead. “Yeah, a peace sign is a good idea. But it’ll be fine. I’ve met most of Evan’s and Mitch’s friends at other parties. They’re all cool.”
“So are you. And we don’t have to stay long,” he assured me. “Let’s just eat a hamburger, drink a beer, and then go back to my place and play with Buttons.”
I kissed his hand again, then bit his thumb, chuckling when he pulled away, shaking his wrist. “Hey, Rory?”
“Yeah?”
“I like you a lot. Like…a lot, a lot,” I confessed with my heart in my throat.
He pulled up to the curb down the street from Mitch and Evan’s, then turned to me with a blinding smile. “Same, baby. Let’s do this.”
I heaved the beer from the floor of his pickup truck and happily walked by his side, kicking the autumn leaves along the path like a school kid. But as we approached the quaint gray bungalow on the quiet residential street, my nerves returned full force. Rory was right about me. I played defense in real life. I let circumstances dictate my actions instead of taking control the way I would on the field. I wasn’t a total pushover, but I wasn’t in command the way I was in a game.
Before I could mentally berate myself for being weak or lame, Rory hooked his finger in my belt loop and tugged. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He gave me a reassuring smile and flashed a peace sign. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded just as the door swung open.
Mitch pulled me inside and hugged me impulsively.
“You’re here! Come on in. Everyone is out back. We totally lucked out with the weather. You never know what it’ll be like in the middle of November.”
Mitch was five eleven, tops, with short blond hair, pretty blue eyes, and sharp features. He had elegant, effeminate mannerisms for sure, but he was tough as hell. I’d been as shocked as everyone else when Evan came out last year and introduced Mitch as his boyfriend. First of all, I had no clue Evan was bi and second, I wouldn’t have guessed Mitch would be his type. But they seemed to complement one another well, and they were obviously head over heels for each other.
Even though I knew they were ancient history, I tried to picture Mitch with Rory. And I just couldn’t do it. They didn’t fit. Rory was mine.