“I’m still not sure about the rules. That game was very involved.” Ezra giggled again. “And now you’re laughing at me?” Roman poked his sides, loving Ezra’s playful moods.
“I’m not laughingatyou. I don’t care that you don’t know anything about string theory or the time-space continuum. I have tons of people I can talk to about that. I’m sorry you felt out of place. I know that’s probably rare for you.” Roman was a little humbled by that. “I feel like that all the time.”
“You do?”
Ezra nodded. “I can’t feel calm in busy places or enjoy loud clubs and concerts or make small talk or eat the foods offered at potlucks. Most of the time, I just shut my eyes and try to get through it. But you help me with all of that. You make me feel good and safe.”
“I like that you’re different,” Roman said. And he liked that Ezra accepted his differences too, without questioning it or asking him to be anyone other than exactly who he was.
“Most people don’t.”
“Well, I’m not most people.” Roman figured that while they were on the subject of what other people think. “How do you feel about me being black?”
Ezra’s eyes slid from Roman’s face to his arm, then back. “More of a dark brown.” Roman waited for him to catch on; he didn’t have to wait long. “Oh, do you mean the social construct of black, which includes African-Americans and several other ethnicities that are all lumped together somewhat haphazardly?”
“Yes, that.”
“Okay. Yes, I noticed that about you. It would be hard not to, as skin is the largest organ of the human body.”
“Is that a problem?” Roman asked.
“No.”
“Because some people have a problem with interracial relationships,” Roman prompted.
“Some people have a problem with gay relationships.”
“Good point.”
“Does it bother you that I’m white, according to the same social construct?”
“No.”
“Okay, you’re black and neurotypical, I’m white and neurodivergent, but we’re both homosexual, which I think is the most important commonality.”
“Yes, I agree,” Roman said with a small grin, but there was one more concern, or more accurately, insecurity, he needed to address. “Do you only like me for my body?”
“Roman,” Ezra exclaimed as if offended and swatted his shoulder. “Of course not. But you should be proud of your body. You take really good care of it. Your body allowed you to have a professional football career, and if it weren’t for your appetite, you might not have started your restaurants.”
Roman had never thought about it quite like that. “All good points.”
“Do you only like me for my body?” Ezra asked with a teasing grin.
“Yes,” Roman nodded with a huge smile, earning him another swat. “I like so many things about you,” Roman continued. “Your sincerity and your thoughtfulness. All the nice things you do for me and all the fun things we do together.”
“Yes, I like that too. So, will you ask me again?” Ezra rested one elbow on his shoulder and stared just past him with a shine to his eyes.
“Ask you what?” Roman said, feigning ignorance.
“Roman, don’t tease me,” he practically pleaded.
Roman smiled, then said more soberly, “Will you be my boyfriend, Ezra Powell? Pretty please?”
Ezra’s gaze shifted to meet with his for a precious few seconds before drifting away again. “Yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”
“Excellent.” Roman rubbed his hands up and down Ezra’s back and wished he could mark him with his scent. Or give him a t-shirt that said Property of Roman Reynolds. “Make sure you tell Dev next time you see him because that man is thirsty for some Ezra cola.”
Ezra shook his head. “That doesn’t even make logical sense.”
