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George’s soft, “Yeah,” was a moment too late and barely audible.
26
Joq had a new habit. He’d take the USB stick out of his bag, roll it in his hand, and put it back. He knew he needed to watch it. He couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was in the middle of this little routine in his office at home when he heard George come in.
“Joq?” he called up the stairs.
“In here,” Joq shoved the USB stick into the pocket and spun in his chair.
“Hey,” George smiled when he came in. “What’re you doing?”
Joq shrugged. He supposed it did look weird, him sitting there with his laptop closed, the room dark and quiet.
“Well, ah,” George ran a hand through his hair and looked around. He’d been doing a version of this since the night with Finn and the pool—acting sheepish, being around more, accommodating when he was.
It’d only been a week and it felt like a lifetime of awkward.
“Did you want something?” Joq asked when George didn’t go on.
“Just wanted to see if you wanted to go see a movie. I’ve got that away game, then Freo the week after and they’ve got Reaver back, so I’m gonna be all systems go thinking how to shut him down—
“Jack’s back?” Joq cut him off.
Jack Reaver had been the upcoming superstar rookie when George was in his glory veteran days. Team mates and good friends, George never quite forgave Jack for requesting the trade back to his home city. Joq, on the other hand, had very fond memories of Jack for a very different reason. Jack was, like George, one hundred percent gay, one hundred percent in the closet. He and Joq had never done anything—Joq drew the line at his age, and him being a fellow player with George—but God, the flirting had been fun. He genuinely liked him too, as a person, and as a player.
“Yeah,” George said, grimacing. “Looks like the season-ending injury wasn’t so season-ending.”
“Huh, good for him.”
“You know, I’m really beginning to wonder whose side you’re on this season,” he smiled as he said it.
Joq shrugged again. He was wondering the same thing. “What? He’s a good guy, so he wanted to go home. It wasn’t personal.”
George mumbled about how he could’ve waited another season or two and besides, what’d he done since going home other than get spectacularly injured?
“And play some spectacular games with Hiller before that,” Joq said.
George snorted.
“What?”
“Nothin’, movies yes or no? I feel like some mindless action.”
“Uh, yeah, okay. But what’s the deal with Hiller?”
George tapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “I mean, yeah, they team up well, but watch closer next time. I know you know Jack,” and that was pointed, which was pretty fucking rich. But George went on over Joq’s scoffing. “Hiller’s got a hate-on for him so hard,” George shook his head and backed out, “sometimes I think it’s taking everything Jack’s got not to cry about it. Movie starts at eight-twenty.”
And then he was gone. Huh, Joq thought, at least that was a nice little distraction. He’d be sure to watch and see how Jack acted around Sean Hiller, see if there was anything in it.
In the meantime, he needed to go to the movies with his boyfriend, where he’d pretend George wasn’t his boyfriend. Among other things he was currently pretending about. He pulled the USB stick out again and rolled it in his palm.
27
Joq lay in bed that night and listened to George sleeping beside him. His breaths seemed louder than usual and it prevented Joq from drifting off. He wondered if George had always breathed so loudly.
The movie had been unsatisfying. All the right cues were there, but it felt disjointed, like it’d been slapped together out of the requirements—reluctant hero forced to save the world—without any further thought. A shallow spin on the original. Much like he felt with George sitting beside him in the cinema. The careful space between them, the buddies routine they’d been doing for over a decade—for the first time, it felt less like an exciting secret Joq got to break when he got home, and more like a stupid pretence designed to protect George’s precious sense of his own self-importance.
Joq slipped out of bed. He was never going to sleep with these thoughts ticking over, with George’s obnoxious breathing. He went out to the hall and paused. He thought about that USB and felt a surge of anger at how much it was consuming him. He shook himself and went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, went into the living room and sprawled on the couch.
