“Shut up. And be here by noon.”
* * *
On the morningof the pool party, over a breakfast of French toast and sausage links, Roman tried again to get Ezra to call him by his first name.
“But, sir, you’re my employer,” Ezra protested.
“I know but I’m also your roommate. And your friend,” Roman added, hoping that he hadn’t overstepped.
Ezra’s gaze dropped to his plate and Roman noticed a flush creeping up the younger man’s collar, staining his neck a lovely shade of pink. “You want to be my friend?” Ezra asked quietly.
Roman wished he could see Ezra’s face to better understand his reaction. “Yes. Is that all right with you?” Ezra nodded, still not speaking. “Ezra, is something wrong?”
“I’m processing my emotions,” he said, which Roman took to mean that he needed a moment of privacy, so he occupied himself with clearing their empty plates and storing them away in the dishwasher. He put away the syrup and wiped the counters, stalling for time while Ezra sat perfectly still and processed.
“I’ll call you Roman, if that’s what you want,” Ezra said at last, which felt like a small victory. He disappeared into his room soon after and Roman spent the rest of the morning preparing for their pool party, which included pulling meat from the freezer, compiling snacks, and stocking the cooler with ice and drinks. There was one beverage besides water or chocolate milk that Ezra would drink, and it was Snapple’s fruit punch. “So I don’t get scurvy,” he’d told Roman, then smiled his impish grin that meant he’d just made a joke. Even though it was more sugar than actual juice, it did have 100% of the daily allotment of vitamin C, so Roman had stocked up.
Jay arrived on time for once and Roman knocked on Ezra’s door to let him know the pool party was starting.
“Just a minute,” he called through the door.
July in New Orleans was sweltering, and Jay showed no hesitation in jumping right into the pool with Roman soon following suit. Jay had brought with him an inflatable floatie for Ezra, and he stood in the shallow end blowing it up. His best friend obviously had a soft spot for Ezra—who wouldn’t—and he’d known him much longer than Roman. Jay knew, or at least suspected Roman’s fondness for the young man, the flavor of which was still a mystery, even to himself.
“Did you ever try hitting on Ezra?” Roman asked his best friend. Jay had been the first person Roman had come out to at the age of 22, and he remained the only person Roman trusted to talk about such things.
“I did in the beginning. Went right over his head.”
Roman smiled. It didn’t surprise him in the least. “But you don’t anymore?”
Jay shrugged. “Once I got to know him, I realized he was way too good for me. All sweet and innocent. I honestly didn’t know what to do with him, because he’s so cute but also so clueless about how cute he is. So, now I just tease him and make him blush.”
Roman didn’t know what to do with Ezra either, not that anything needed to be done. He knew that he liked him, that he was attracted to him, that he wanted to get to know him better and spend more time with him, but he had no idea how Ezra felt in return.
“Hello.”
Roman turned around to see Ezra standing on the edge of the pool wearing extremely tight Speedo shorts that may have been a size too small.
“Hey, E-man, I brought this for you.” Jay tossed the inflatable toward him like a Frisbee.
“My favorite color,” Ezra said happily and wriggled it down to his waist so that he could wear it like a tutu.
Roman made a mental note of Ezra’s favorite color. Purple.
“Ezra, what do you think of these guns?” Jay stood in the shallow water and posed like a bodybuilder for Ezra’s perusal.
“You’re looking very swole, Mr. Reid,” Ezra said drily. Clearly, it was a common enough ritual between them.
“What about me, Ezra?” Roman teased and copied Jay’s double-bicep pose.
Ezra froze and his smile vanished. Ezra’s attention was deliberate as his eyes swept the span of Roman’s shoulders and then lower, mapping every dip and contour of Roman’s muscular frame, eyes raking over his upper body so intently that Roman could practically feel the beat of his stare. Ezra’s mouth moved as if to say something, then he promptly turned and headed for the far wall of the veranda where he stood with his back to them.
“You all right over there, Ezra?” Jay called, though it was obvious to both him and Roman what had caused his swift departure.
“I’m fine,” Ezra said but didn’t move to join them.
“What are you doing?” Jay persisted.
“I’m counting the blocks in the wall.”
