She popped a hand under her chin. “Your mom is here.”
“So?”
Her green eyes rose to meet mine. But her voice dropped so low I could barely hear her. “It’s hard for me, okay?” It was just five words. But they said a lot.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. And it was the truth. I’d basically lost my best friend, and there was nothing to be done about it. I’d spent whole years of my life wishing that I could be attracted to Bella, or any other girl. But it just wasn’t there.
Still, I wanted to explain myself. “The reason we stopped…” I cleared my throat.
“…Fucking,” Bella prompted.
I sighed. “The reason we stopped, is because I was a mess.”
Her eyes grew shiny. “And you knew I was hung up on you?”
I gave my head such a hard shake that it actually hurt. “No. I didn’t know that at all. But I cared about you. You’re just about my favorite person at Harkness. And even though I kept hoping I could change, I didn’t want to keep dragging you through my little charade.”
Her eyes dropped to the tabletop. “I was pretty far gone already.”
I covered both her hands with mine, and squeezed. “Seriously, Bella. If I was into girls, you’d be the only one for me.”
“Don’t make me cry, you dick,” she said, wrestling a hand from mine to wipe her eyes. But she gave me a shaky smile then.
“Fine,” I told her. “But come over here and sit next to me. For old times’ sake.”
Wearing a grudging expression, Bella maneuvered around the table to sit next to me. And then the other side of the booth was taken up by Pepé and Frenchie, who told us a story about getting locked out of their hotel room at Colgate.
I didn’t say much all night. The music made my head hurt, and I nursed my beer like somebody’s grandmother. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I was happy just sitting there letting the game stats and the smack talk roll over me. Rikker was right that I’d been ducking this. I’d been afraid to look my teammates in the face, because I didn’t know what would look back at me.
But I did it, and nobody died. There were a few curious glances coming my way. But it was hard to say whether those were the result of speculation about my head injury or speculation about my sex life.
Rikker stayed away from me, which was easy enough to do when there were three-dozen people in the mix. I caught him glancing at me once, probably checking to make sure that I was doing all right. Busted, he actually winked and then turned back to the conversation he was having with Trevi.
I watched Rikker for a while then, forgetting to care whether anyone saw. The easy set of his muscular shoulders was something I always noticed about him. He moved like a man who was comfortable in his body. And that didn’t change whether he was walking naked across the bedroom toward me, or standing in a bar with his teammates. I was attracted to it, and I envied it. All at the same time.
Tonight it was almost possible to be all the parts of me at once. The part that loved Rikker, and the part that insisted on being the same old Michael Graham.
I started to get really drowsy around ten, so I said my goodbyes. Then I walked outside and texted Rikker.I’m out front. Wait 4 U or go home?
A minute later, he answered me by coming out the front door. We both said “hey,” at exactly the same time.
Rikker grinned. “The jinx machine is out of order. Please put in another quarter.” Turning toward College Street, we headed into the night. “Was it okay?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” Then, after verifying that we were alone, I grabbed his hand. Bringing it up to my lips, I kissed his knuckles before dropping his hand again. “Thank you,” I said, my voice rough.
“No sweat.” I couldn’t tell from his voice, but I’d probably stunned him with even that miserly show of affection.
When we approached the turnoff to Bank Street, and Rikker’s dorm, I went even further. “Come home with me?”
He followed, wordlessly. Before, I’d never said it out loud. And we’d never walked into Beaumont together.
I hoped he knew that I was trying.
We were both awfully quiet on the way back to my room. I opened the door, and he stepped inside. Once it was closed and locked behind us, I put my arms around him. For a long minute we just stood there, holding each other.
“You were brave tonight,” he whispered.
“Brave is driving a tank in Afghanistan,” I argued quietly. “Brave is stealing the puck from a Red Wings defenseman.”
