The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t see why best friend marriages weren’t a thing. Plenty of married couples weren’t having sex. The world wasn’t about to collapse if they didn’t, either.
“So, dinner?” Noah repeated.
“Yeah, sounds good. But don’t think I’m letting you make a habit of it. This is a mutual decision, and you don’t need to keep thanking me for it.”
“All the same, I think I’ll just keep being grateful to you. You didn’t need to do this.”
“Dude, we’ve watched each other’s backs since basically the day we met. This is what wedo. And I’ve got my eye on that national championship. We’re gonna qualify if I have to drag you around the track myself.”
“I don’t think that’s strictly allowed,” Noah said.
“The refs like me.” Jace shrugged. “I could pull it off.”
“You just keep telling yourself that.” Noah beamed at him.
Nothing had changed. They were married now, but they were still exactly like they had been this morning. It hadn’t immediately ruined their friendship, and the USCIS hadn’t surrounded them with helicopters and attack dogs over it, either. Everything was going to work out. Three years down the line, Noah could apply for citizenship, and they could get divorced.
Jace unlocked the car, feeling as though he could breathe properly for the first time since Noah had said he’d lost his job. Things were looking up.
Chapter Seven
Other than general agreement that they’d known forever that Jace and Noah were going to end up together, the team barely reacted when they announced that they’d gotten married. They’d decided between them to play it as though it was the real deal in public. It only took one asshole to report you to immigration, and while Noah considered some of the team close friends, some were only acquaintances.
Noah didn’t quite understand why people werecompletelyunsurprised, though. They were acting as though marriage was just a formality, and he and Jace had been together for years. Brian had been very enthusiastic about congratulating Jace on finally being ready to come out.
Brian made no secret of being bi. As a sport, roller derby—both men’s and women’s—had a proud tradition of being unusually queer-friendly. There were plenty of straight skaters, but there were just enough non-straight skaters to make it so you couldn’t really play if you were an asshole. Or at least, you had to be an asshole quietly.
Thankfully, the congratulating stopped when Coach Williams called them onto the track for the first drill. They only got a full team at practice the week before a game—and games were only once a month during the season, normally. Sometimes schedules changed. In any case, Noah had almost forgotten what a full track looked like.
Derby was still a casual sport. There were fourteen people allowed on the team’s permanent roster, and only five per team on the track at a time. That meant that if people couldn’t show up, they didn’t. Everyone who did got a cut of the ticket sales, but some weeks that wasn’t enough to buy a cup of coffee after the bout after all the other expenses came out.
That happened less often now. The Murderland Rollers were making a name for themselves as fun to watch, and that meant people showed up. Last year, they’d all made back the cost of registration and their per-game dues. This year, if the trend continued, it would buy them all a few beers a week. It wasn’t a whole lot of money, but it was a nice bonus.
“Okay boys,” Coach Williams started. “We’ve only got three games left this season. You should all be proud of your performance so far. That said, I’m watching you today, and how you do in training will directly impact the amount of track time you get. Show me you’re good, and I’ll put you on. Show me you don’t care, and you’ll spend the whole bout on your ass.”
Noah believed her. She was a very fair coach, and encouraging, but she didn’t believe in free rides. If you put in the work, you reaped the rewards. Anything else, and you got kicked back down to fresh meat.
“If we keep this up, we’re gonna qualify for the nationals, and I want to see that,” she continued. “So get out there and give it your best. I wanna see you all in a pace line.”
It was a standard warm-up—each skater lapping the track behind the first one, about arm’s length from each other—and one Noah could do with his eyes closed. He stuck close to Jace, following him without thinking too hard about it. They’d always been inseparable like this, so people would expect them to continue to be that way.
Maybe it wasn’t so weird that no one was surprised at their sudden marriage. People had secret relationships all the time, especially gay ones. Jace would have had reasons to hide his sexuality, the potential that it would cause trouble for him at work, or even with his family. He’d promised Noah it wouldn’t, and Noah took him at his word.
As far as Noah was concerned, Jace was too good at his job for anyone to give a damn who he was dating. Or married to, in this case.
His family, Noah knew nothing about. Jace occasionally mentioned a mom, dad, and sister, but only in passing. Noah figured that if Jace wanted to talk about them, he would, and there was no point in pushing the subject.
The pace line turned into laps, which was Noah’s favorite part of training. He liked not thinking about anything but picking up speed around the track. That was what made him a good jammer. That, and his ability to not worry about taking a hit or being blocked. He was good on skates, a childhood full of ice skating making it almost second nature to him.
Jace had only started learning when he’d shown up for his initiation session, on the same day as Noah. That made himbetter, in a lot of ways. Noah had a lifetime of practice, but Jace had never been skating before in his life.
Laps turned into cannonballing practice, which was something they’d realized they needed to work on last season. On a women’s team, it was an easier maneuver. On a men’s team, it took a little more effort to get used to being pushed around and just letting it happen. Men weren’t as good at that kind of cooperation.
Noah managed to shove Diego into one of the newer guys, who in turn found themselves being thrown into Brian. While he wasn’t paying attention, Rafe skated up beside him and launched him toward Jace.
Normally, Noah was good at this, but Rafe had caught him with one leg slightly raised and pushed a little too hard, leaving Noah flailing to keep his balance and going too fast. He smacked into Jace’s side and they both toppled over, a ball of flailing limbs.
Every possible thing that could have gone wrong with the move had, and Noah was afraid to stand up. He might have spent a minute or two on the ground in the middle of the track if he hadn’t heard Jace hiss and swear as he rolled onto his front.
