Abbott laughs. “I used to do it all the time in high school when you were an idiot and it used to make you laugh.”
“Because dipshit is such a stupid, antiquated word. Like what are you, a character from an 80s teen movie?” I say, and I think I’m smiling. Why? This is crazy. And too good to be true.
“If I was, I would be James Spader in Pretty in Pink.”
“He was a vicious asshole. That’s not you.”
“So I’d be Blaine?”
“You’d be Ducky.”
“Fuck off,” Abbott laughs.
Behind us the door to the restaurant swings open and Robbie appears, dragging the mop and bucket behind him. I take a big step away from Abbott. Force of habit I guess. “I’m done. And I want you to know that I’ll take either offer, whatever you two decide. I would be happy to be your roommate Deck or rent the entire place if you wanna take Abbott up on his offer. But I get it if you don’t. Aspen is kind of scary. I mean she’s great but like, scary in a boss bitch sorta way. It’s a compliment. I’ll stop talking.”
Abbott shakes his head but he’s grinning. He knows Robbie isn’t insulting his sister. I look at him. The Colgate smile, the biceps, the perfect tanned skin and the shaggy beard and the kind heart and lips that know exactly what to say and do…. “The apartment is yours Robbie. I’ll print off a lease and get my stuff out of there by the weekend.”
Abbott hugs me and it would look intimate and probably totally give us away but Robbie is too overwhelmed with his own happiness to notice. The next thing I know he’s hugging me too. I close my eyes and smile and let that hope in my chest float through me like dandelion fluff floats through the air after a strong breeze.
14
ABBOTT
I feellike I’m bungee jumping. It’s the oddest sensation. I’m standing in the parking lot outside of the lobster shack as Declan locks the door. My feet are firmly on the pavement yet, everything inside me is free-falling. In a good way. He turns and stares at me, the moonlight glinting off his angular cheeks. I love everything about his face. Always have. The hard lines, the unexpected softness of his mouth, the way his eyes say everything even when he says nothing. And I’m going to get to stare at it every day.
“So, what now?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I admit, and I almost giggle like a high schooler drunk on my first shot. “I guess you write up that lease and tell your parents.”
“Everything?”
“Eventually.” I shrug. “I was in the middle of telling our head of PR I’m gay when I was interrupted. And I’d like to sit down with her and explain things before we go public. Blindsiding her, and the team, isn’t a good idea. The coach is definitely not a guy who likes surprises. But I swear I’m serious about doing this. Soon.”
He almost lets himself smile. “I never thought there’d be a day when I would be able to even consider telling them about you and me.”
To be honest, after he married Nova, I didn’t think he’d ever want to tell anyone there had been an us, let alone that there would be again. That free-fall feeling overwhelms me again and I step closer and kiss him. But it’s fleeting because he pulls away. “If this is going to play out the way you want, we don’t need to be caught making out or whatever.”
“Fair enough.” I step back. The question now is should I go home? Should I stay? Instead of asking I just go for it again and tell him what I want. “But right now, what I want more than anything is to go up to your soon-to-be-former apartment and show you how much I’ve missed you.”
He stares at me for a long moment and then, without a word, he turns and starts for the staircase that leads to his place. I follow so close behind him I almost step on his heels. As soon as he opens the door and steps inside, he throws his keys towards the coffee table and pulls his shirt over his head. “I should go shower. I smell like a lobster trap.”
“Okay.”
He turns slowly, reluctantly, and starts down the hall. I follow. He seems kind of surprised when he reaches the bathroom and I’m right behind him. He flicks on the light and it’s exactly the way it’s been for decades. Teal and white tile everywhere. A clawfoot tub with a plain white shower curtain circling it. He walks over and turns the taps. The pipes creak but water starts to rain down from the shower head. He tugs the curtain closed and I close the bathroom door and lean against it as his hands move to the button on his jeans.
“You remember that time you showed up at the arena because you wanted to know who else I was kissing?” I ask and he nods. “That was so fucking hot.”
“My insecurities are a turn-on for you?”
“You wanted me so much you couldn’t be your usual reserved, blocked-off self,” I explain as his jeans slide to his ankles. He’s wearing inky blue designer boxer briefs. Proof he might be trying to dim his true self on the outside, but the real Declan still lives in there. I’m happy. I want Mr. Anal Retentive Label Whore with a brain like a computer back. He’s so much fun to unravel. “That was the hot part. But I was too chicken shit to do what I really wanted to do that day.”
“Which was what?”
“Haul you into the shower with me. Suck you off until you came in my mouth,” I admit. “Take your wet hands covered in soap and wrap them around my dick and beg you to jerk me off.”
“Fuck, Abbott.” He palms the front of his boxers, which have a very unmistakable bulge now. “If you had done that back then… my brain would have melted. I mean I would have wanted it, and loved every minute of it but…”
“I know. I would have imploded too. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing yet,” I smile slowly. “But I know now.”
