The smile lingers for most of the morning until I get bored and turn open social media on my phone while I enjoy a muffin. The first post to greet me is a picture of Hansley and Jessica with a tear down the middle. With the headline BARDOT AND ANSON TO BE DIVORCED AFTER RUMORS OF AN AFFAIR.
My stomach churns. I set my muffin down and wipe my hand on a napkin before I click on the link to expand the post.
There isn’t much actual information there. Just random speculation.
I scroll for a while more and find several more variations of the same post, but one nearly has my heart stopping. There’s a picture of Hansley on his bike with a passenger. That passenger is me, though the post isn’t sure who ‘she’ is.
Closing ShareIt, I open The Pride Room app and click to get to the chat with Hansley. But I pause there, unsure what to say. This is why he didn’t want to be seen in public with me. And I fucked it up!
After sitting here for another hour, I’m about ready to come out of my skin come lunch time. I grab a couple drinks and sandwiches from The Queer Palace Café and head to the arena. Hansley’s door is open, but when I step in front of it, I see Alka and Declan there.
While I know they’re just friends, jealousy courses through me wildly. My cheeks heat darkly too, since my mess ofattempted origami is still strewn around his office. Gawd, why did I ever think that was cute?! Ew.
Alka gets up when he sees me, clapping Declan on the shoulder. Declan looks up too and joins Alka.
“I’ll see you later, man. Let me know if you need anything.”
Hansley nods as he shifts in his seat, his eyes finally landing on me. A smile touches his lips when they do, but I can see just how tired he is.
Alka and Declan slip through the door and leave us. For a minute, I hesitate where I am.
“Come here, Lemon,” Hansley whispers and holds out his hands to me like a child wanting to be picked up.
I step inside and kick the door shut behind me. Setting my offerings on his desk, I climb into his lap and wrap around him. Like the very first time I hugged this man, his grip is tight. Super tight to the point it’s almost bruising.
Turning my face into his neck, I try to think of anything at all to say. Finally, I settle with, “I’m sorry I messed up your office. It was cuter in my head.”
He chuckles. His lips brush against my jaw and ear. “I love it. I love everything about it.”
“You don’t have to pretend.”
His fingers dig into my ribs. “You need to get better at accepting that I love this gesture and all the gestures you make to show me what I mean to you. I love that no matter where I turn, I see a new one with a new note and it puts a smile on my face. They’re reminders that not all days are going to be cloudy.”
I lick my lips. “I’m guessing that means you saw the posts online?”
Hansley sighs. “Yeah. Jess called me, sobbing. Swearing that she didn’t tell anyone except her family, and she’s never mentioned an affair to anyone.”
“There’s a picture of us online,” I admit. “On your bike. The time I wore my gold jacket. Good news is they think I’m a girl, so they’re not looking this way.”
He huffs. “There’s no good news about that.”
“No, it’s good news. You don’t need sexuality slurs mixed in with this too. Give it time. You can live that fun life later.”
He’s quiet for a minute before pushing me back to look at me. “You’re serious.”
I nod. “Not on campus. This is like one of the few truly safe places in the world. This is an inaccurate introduction to the queer world becauseeveryoneis accepted here—every race, creed, orientation, gender. RDU is not a true representation of what you face in the world. Glensdale is relatively safe, too. But I think that’s a spillover from RDU more than anything. When you’re the city that has a big, gay campus smack in the middle of it, it tends to drive the dickheads away and attract the superior individuals in the world.”
I’m not sure what planet this man lived on before, but it’s clear that he has exactly zero experience with anything that could attract haters. A part of me wants to protect that. To prevent him from ever having to face that shit.
But that’s not realistic. It’s not safe.
Hansley sighs, dropping his head so his forehead rests on mine. “I’m going to keep you out of this as long as I possibly can.”
“It’s okay. You said we couldn’t be public. You know—well-known secret. No more bike rides until it blows over.”
I’m surprised when he shakes my head. “No, Lemon. We’re just going to get you a helmet that hides your face better. To keep you as anonymous as possible. I don’t want this to affect you.”
My stomach flutters. “You still want to go on bike rides?”
