This is either going to be really, really great, like getting drafted to Montreal great. Or really, really bad. Like getting drafted to Toronto. There is no in between. “Okay.”
Remaining silent and deathly still, I feel him inhale again, his cheeks puff, then his breath ghosts down my back as he exhales. “Cubby. I know because of work and Canada, we were going to keep things casual, but … I think I might love you.”
“I think I might love you, too.” I pretty much yell back, as all air is squeezed from my lungs.
“You do?”
“I do. Actually, I don’t think it. I know … Wait. Can you let me go for a sec? I want to see your face. And breathe.”
“Shit, sorry.” James relaxes his kung-fu grip and I push off his chest. Silver lines stain his flushed cheeks, and his lips are all pink and puffy.
“I know I love you. Honestly, I have for a while, but I was too afraid to say it out loud, in case you freaked out.”
“Me. Freak out. Please, that never happens.”
“You’re right. I must be thinking about my other hypochondriac boyfriend who mutters, not a fish, not a fish, not a fish, under his breath almost every other day.”
James’ brow furrows as he scowls. A few months ago, I’d have shit myself if he looked at me like this. Now it just turns me on.
Actually, it probably would have back then, too.
“I’ve never really been in love before, but is it normal to make fun of your beloved’s potentially fatal medical conditions?”
“Having never been in love before, I couldn’t safely say. Wait. You brought this place with that Brandon dick. Didn’t you love him?” He shakes his head and pulls me back down onto his chest. I go happily, cause, duh.
“At the time I thought I was, but now I know what it really feels like I think I was just comfortable. After I quit hockey, I was kind of depressed and isolated. Brandon helped me though that, and I was grateful. He was my friend. But I wouldn’t have risked so much, and been willing to walk away from everything for him. Not the way I would for you.”
The words,come to Canada with me,burn so severely against my tongue I fear smoke may soon billow from my ears. James could just as easily have a career there. We could get a place with a big enough yard for a winter-time rink. Maybe a dog that didn’t hate me like Miffy, or an equally gender-confused cat like Cleo. We could make a life for ourselves. One where we didn’t have to hide.
It could be perfect.
It will be perfect.
Hope balloons in my chest, but my move with me to Canada spiel, is paused by jiggling coming from beneath me, and James’s full belly laugh. “Can you believe that?” he says, sounding miffed. “What a selfish prick. Expecting me to up and move to Florida weeks after we bought this place,andwhen I had Dyl, Faith and Dad here. He never got that we were a package deal, even before Dad was gone.”
A package deal.
Relocating James is one thing. I would have zero problems with Faith and Dylan coming with us, and it could even be beneficial. The Canadian healthcare system shits all over ours. It could be perfect. But Faith is the youngest professor to be granted tenure at BC, and Dylan has Manny, and Maria and his routine. The short-lived hope bubble bursts. Looks like James has a habit of attracting selfish pricks.
Happy birthday to me.
While James is showering,I potter around the kitchen, searching for plates to dish up the Chinese takeout we ordered for naked lunch. I’ve tried to keep my mood upbeat since the whole, Brandon wanted me to leave, bombshell but it’s tough.
It’s one p.m., which means we’ve had twelve hours together. Apparently that’s more than enough to solidify that this is what I want. I want this to be permanent. I want to wake up with James every morning and go to bed with him at night. I want to lay in bed ‘til noon, have sex in the shower, order shitty food and head back to bed.
I know that’s not reality, but when our reality is harder to swallow than these dry-ass looking egg rolls, who needs it?
Giving up on the crockery, I grab some forks and spoons and am setting the food up on the table when James hollers, “Cory, where are you?”
“Kitchen,” I yell back. “Food arrived.” I smell his fresh, clean cologne seconds later he appears … in a tee and sweats. Don’t get me wrong. He looks fucking amazing. It’s white and wet and really see through, but still. “What the hell, Plum? Naked weekend ring a bell?” Smirking, he looks down and pats his chest.
“Oh. I forgot. Maybe you should come and take it off me?” I don’t think I have ever abandoned food so fast.
Moody or not, I’m on him in a flash, hands slipping beneath the hem, up over his ribs and tugging the damp cotton over his head. It hits the floor, and so does my chin.
“What did you do?”
“Can’t lie, Cubs. That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”
