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“Wait!” someone called. I glanced over my shoulder to see the slim blond cameraman running across the parking lot. “Just in case.” He slid me a sticky note with the Willoughby Tire Emporium logo on it. It had his name, Kendall, and his phone number. I gave him a smile and pocketed the note. “Call me,” he whispered and dashed back inside.
“Your milkshake at work once more,” Liam teased.
I patted my ass. Yeah, skater cake did bring the boys to the yard. We climbed into our cars and headed to town for Mexican. He always ate spicy food when Tarcy left him behind. Shame I couldn’t cook or I could stir up some of my mother’s classic Thai dishes. We did have some prik ban at our place though, so we could get it to go, then douse the shit out of our tacos as well as Liam’s poor lonely heart. If only there was a chili paste strong enough to burn Marcus Newley out of my life forever, I’d bathe in that shit.
***
Two hours later, Liam and I were on the back porch, stuffed to the gills, enjoying one of the last full days off we would have in quite some time. It was crucial to be in the right headspace, so we’d come outside after dinner. The cool call of fall unseen as today was a warm one in Chemung County. Autumn and summer were in a tug-of-war for control of the seasons, it seemed. Something that I enjoyed. I loved the changing trees, pumpkin spice, and wearing a toque on frosty mornings. I didn’t even mind the winter here in New York State, even though it was much burlier than it had been in South Carolina, and for sure colder than Thailand. Maybe that was why I embraced the colder temps where others shied away from it. Snow was something that never failed to amaze me. I couldn’t wait to show Banyu, my baby nephew, the fluffy white stuff when my sister, Citra, and my brother-in-law, Joyo, finally spent a winter here.
“Do you ever wonder what the people going past on boats think when they see us like this?” Liam asked, balancing a cold bottle of water on his brow as we lay on the wooden patio, backs on the worn boards, and legs up the sliding glass door of my house.
We tended to do our yoga outdoors when we could. This was the end of a pretty lame practice. I wasn’t sure tossing back churro bombs while in tree pose was what the great sages had in mind when they invented sutras.
“Maybe they think we’re incredibly hot and limber goalies working on their flexibility and improving circulation,” I tossed out, the sun hot on my face. I kept my eyes closed as I reached down to find the box of churros on my stomach.
“They would be correct,” Liam sleepily replied. A few peaceful moments passed. Boaters and jet skiers were revving it up and down on Seneca Lake, enjoying the less crowded waters now that Labor Day had passed. “You awake?”
“Mm,” I groggily answered.
“Did you ever date anyone seriously?”
I blinked my eyes, rolling my head to the side to check out my roomie’s profile. Sweat from his water bottle ran slowly down his temple, but he never moved a muscle. It was some sort of mental control trick his uncle, the legendary Bryn Mettler, had passed along to us. Having a future HHOF goalie handing you tidbits that he had learned over his stellar career was a boon. I had drank all of my water after dousing my food with prik ban so my chi was less focused now.
“Yeah, back in college. His name was Starling.”
“Starling like a bird?”
“Yes, like the bird.” I poked him in his bare belly, making him jerk wildly. The bottle rolled off his forehead. “His mother named all her kids after birds.”
“Was he new at Clemson and looking to lift a ban on dancing?” He sat up, found his water, and then emptied it over his head before shaking like a dog. Droplets flew everywhere. They felt too good to complain about.
“That was Wren, you hoser,” I parried, wiping off the spray that coated my face. “Starling was nice, played football, beautiful dark brown skin…” The memory of that man’s face carried me back in time to the days spent studying, playing hockey, and learning all about my queer identity.
Liam patted my cheek. “Earth to Basky,” he teased, flopping back onto the porch, his legs resting on the glass door. “Did you love Starling?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I pulled up the last memory of Starling that I had, one of him sashaying across the quad with some other guy on his arm. “Not enough, I guess,” I muttered as my mellow mood faded.
“See, this is the thing. I love Tarcy.” I nodded. We all knew that. “And he loves me.” Also knew that. “It’s been a year that we’ve been a couple.” And yes, knew that too. I wiggled my toes to let the warm air blow between them as I purged the recollection of Starling, the cheater, from my memory banks. “I think I might be ready for more, you know? It’s just hard with racing and hockey.”
Hockey. Yeah, hockey. Fucking Marcus Newley. He’d been a thorn in my side since I was eighteen. Marcus had transferred from that northern college and started batting those stupid long lashes at people, flashing that sexy smile, and boasting about his skills. He hadn’t changed much over the years. Seemed everywhere I went Marcus followed. Like a determined case of the crabs, he was always around being annoying and flip. Flip. Great. Now I sounded like my mother talking about those boys on the YouTube channels. If only he would get traded out west somewhere.
“Are you even with me here, or are you off in the Delta quadrant with the crew of Voyager somewhere?”
I snapped back from big jerk goalies and tight ends. “Sorry, yeah, I’m here. What do you mean ‘you’re ready for more’?”
Liam stared at the sky, his hands resting on his chest, his cheeks pink from the heat. “I think I’m ready for more, but I don’t think he is.”
“More what?”
“More more.”
“Dude, you are talking in circles.”
He blew out a long, sad breath, closed his eyes, and let his head roll toward me before his lashes rose. I saw all kinds of mixed emotions in those light green eyes.
“I’d like more. Something deeper, something…” He crinkled his nose and then went back to watching the sparse clouds float by. Down on the lake, the sound of the paddleboat horn could be heard as it backed out of the dock for a dinner cruise. “Something more than living in a motorhome all summer or being apart for the entire fucking winter.”
“Oh.” I let my legs fall to the left, pushed up to sit with my thighs pressed to my chest, to stare down at my friend. Probably one of my best friends ever. Liam and I were like peas in a geeky hockey life pod. “Do you want to move in with him?” He wet his lips and then rolled them over his teeth. “Oh…you do, but he doesn’t?”
