“Your hair’s wet.”
Ezra touched his hair, which was in fact wet. That’s right, he’d beeninthe shower, but he hadn’ttakena shower. “I had to handle a private matter.” Ezra smiled absently at his wordplay.Handle.
“What kind of private matter?”
Sometimes, Roman asked too many questions. Surely, he could guess at what private matter he’d meant. “Roman, private matters areprivate.”
“But I’m your roommate.”
The man was really impossible. “Fine, I wasmasturbating, if you really want to know.”
Roman blinked. And blinked again. Was it unusual for a healthy, 24-year-old man to want to masturbate from time to time? Statistically speaking, no.
“What were you thinking about?” Roman asked.
“ROMAN,” Ezra shouted. He was so embarrassed that he had to turn away and face the wall. “That is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS because it’s a PRIVATE matter.”
“I’m sorry,” he said but Ezra had his doubts about how sorry he actually was.
“Can we go now?” Ezra insisted. “Please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Ezra followed Roman out the door, crab-walking the whole way there because he simply could not face his nosy, nosy roommate.
* * *
Football was not asterrible as he’d thought it would be. Even though Roman’s friends were indeed large and fit, they didn’t push Ezra around or try to trip him while he was running. Jay did tease him a lot and acted like he was going to pull his flag so that Ezra would squeal and run the other way, sometimes going completely out of bounds. Ezra didn’t catch any balls, but he scored a touchdown when Roman handed it off to him and their teammates built a human corridor so that he could run down the middle and toward the end zone. Ezra spiked the ball and did a little dance like the players on television. Roman lifted him off his feet into a big, strong hug, and Ezra didn’t even mind that he was sweaty. Roman defied all logic.
“I knew you could do it, cutie,” Roman said softly and brushed his nose against Ezra’s hair. Ezra didn’t know if Roman actually thought he was cute or if he was only teasing, but he liked that he had his own special nickname. And something he didn’t tell Roman but kept very quietly to himself was that he’d never been chosen to be on a team before; he was always one of the leftover kids that the coaches split at the end, like remainders in long division.
But Roman had picked him first.
9
Gifts
It started with a plush baby Yoda toy that made Roman think of Ezra because he was the one to introduce him toThe Mandaloriantelevision series, and the two were both extremely cute with pointy ears. Next it was a snow globe of Mars that kicked up red sand when you shook it because the exploration of Mars was one of Ezra’s favorite subjects. Then it was a pair of ankle socks with purple pompoms a street vendor was selling that Roman had to purchase because they were justtooadorable. And after one night when Ezra had tried and failed several times to land a balled-up paper in the wastebasket, Roman ordered him one that came with its own backboard so he could work on his bank shots while doing homework. Roman’s love language was gifts, something his past lovers had initially been dazzled by and then come to expect. But because Ezra didn’t want anything material, it only made Roman want to spoil him more. It was the least he could do for the man who had organized his life and given him a reason to want to come home every evening.
And even though Ezra was being compensated for keeping his house in order, it still felt a lot like a domestic partnership. Ezra paid attention to Roman’s likes and dislikes and handled things without him even having to ask. He’d taken careful inventory of all of Roman’s preferred brands of food, drink, and toiletries and made sure the house was always stocked. Ezra had also made it his habit to search for the most exotic foods he could find online and share them with Roman, either to tease or to shock him, and Roman had threatened more than once to make Ezra a meal with the most “disgusting” ones and serve it to him.
Their relationship was, in many ways, extremely intimate, and Roman found himself craving physical intimacy with Ezra too. They hugged on occasion, and a few times when they’d been watching television together on the couch, Ezra had fallen asleep against Roman’s shoulder, and to make him more comfortable, Roman had reclined a little so that his cheek might rest against Roman’s chest with one arm circling him tightly. It was where Ezra belonged—in his arms and in his home.
“Ezra, can I have a kiss for good luck?” Roman was trading players for his fantasy football team and wished to see how Ezra might respond to his appeal.
“That’s highly superstitious and not at all scientific.”
“Please?”
Ezra paused dusting to walk over to where Roman was sitting on the couch, leaned down, and kissed his cheek chastely. Roman wanted to grab Ezra and pull him into his lap, kiss his mouth and both of his flushed cheeks, tug on his cute little ears. He wanted to cuddle and pet and suck and bite and devour the young man, who was so very tempting and also so aloof.
“Thanks, cutie.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t tell Jay or he’ll want a kiss too.”
The thought of Ezra kissing Jay, however innocent, made him wild with jealousy. Roman knew that his feelings were escalating—bordering on irrational—but he didn’t know how to broach the topic with Ezra.
Sometime later while they were eating dinner together, Roman said, “Ezra, would you like to have dinner with me at Prime Cut one night this week?”
