Page 60 of Drop the Gloves

After the party, Evan had hope.

The torn-up note had felt like Riley tearing apart Evan’s heart and shoving it back in his face.

Then Riley had shown up at Lawson’s house like sex incarnate.

It’d made Evan want to claw his eyes out.

Riley had looked so good, and he was doing it on purpose to torment Evan, to show him what he’d had and lost.

Evan had only helped Riley to the guest room—his old room, once upon a time—because he wanted to make sure Riley was okay. It was probably his fault Riley had been drinking so much, and Lawson had been busy wrangling everyone else to kick them out. It was the least Evan could do, right?

Drunk Riley was so pitifully cute. Which was not the type of thought Evan was used to having about anyone, and certainly not one he’d ever thought he’d have about Riley Barczyk. But Drunk Riley was also Honest Riley, apparently.

I wouldn’t check Evan. Then he wouldn’t be mad at me, and I wouldn’t be mad at him for being mad at me.

Hearing that had given Evan an absurd amount of hope, because everything seemed fixable. Evan wasn’t mad anymore, and it sounded like Riley was close to giving up his own anger.

And then Evan went to the training facility the next day, and that hope fizzled a little.

Riley showed up late, wearing sunglasses and nursing an iced coffee (in fucking December?), and sat in the back as the coaches talked about the season so far, their upcoming schedule, blah blah blah.

Evan couldn’t help it; he zoned out. His entire focus was on Riley, two rows behind him and five seats to his left.

He could hear Riley sipping his stupid coffee, and he swore he could smell Riley’s cologne.

Fuck, why’d he sit here? It’d be too obvious if he turned around—

He lasted a very commendable ten minutes before he gave in and stole a glance at Riley.

With his black-tinted Aviators, it was impossible to tell where Riley was looking or if he was even awake, but it felt like they locked eyes.

Evan snapped back around, cheeks on fire, and tried his very best to listen to what Coach Jack was saying.

Ugh. It was like being in high school all over again.

Most of the team opted out of skating that day, and a few of the veteran players cited needing a maintenance day to duck out as soon as the meeting was done. Evan was not in that kind of position, too young and healthy to get out of doing something. He just planned to try to do whatever Riley did.

“Barzy!” he called as he ducked through the crowd to get to him before he left the meeting room.

Riley either didn’t hear or ignored him, and it wasn’t until they were in the hallway that Evan caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie to hold him in place.

Riley turned and looked at where Evan was holding him, then up at Evan.

Aviators or not, he did a good job conveying bitchiness.

“Abs,” he said, oddly formal and distant.

And Evan realized with a sickening drop of his stomach that Riley didn’t remember Evan tucking him in last night. He tried not to let his disappointment show. Whether Riley remembered shouldn’t matter, anyway. It was the feelings that counted, and Riley wasn’t as aloof as he wanted Evan to think.

“You feeling okay?” Evan asked.

“Great,” Riley said. “Like a freight train ran over me.”

Evan laughed awkwardly. “You seemed kind of out of it last—“

“You getting on the ice today?” Riley looked at his watch. Evan wanted to scream.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said slowly, “but if you wanted to work on something—“

“I’m cycling.” It wasn’t an invitation, and Evan took the hint.

“Oh. Cool. I guess I’ll...do...something.” His shoulders fell as he heard himself. But Riley tilted his head down so the sunglasses slid a smidge to reveal hazel eyes. Amused hazel eyes. Success! Kind of!

“You do that, Abs,” he said and walked off.

* * *

The days dragged on as they finished up their homestand and flew out to Detroit for a game against the Motor City Racers.

It was the only thing standing between them and a short holiday break.

Evan wasn’t sure if he craved or dreaded that break.

This felt like the tipping point, the last chance to do something before Riley disappeared for five days and maybe got the good sense to realize a relationship with Evan was a terrible idea.

But how could Evan convince him otherwise if Riley wouldn’t have a real conversation with him?

Evan spent maybe an hour pacing back and forth in his hotel room, running through every version of Riley-forgives-him and Riley-never-wants-to-see-him-again when there was a knock on his door. He froze mid-step and stared at the door.

It’s Riley here to put me out of my misery and say we’re done.

It’s Riley here to forgive me.

There was a secret third option, apparently, because the knock sounded again followed by a curt, “Abs, it’s me. Open up.”

Dalton.

Surprise washed away any chance he got to analyze whether this was better or worse than Riley showing up, and he walked over to answer the door.

“Hey, Dalty,” he said. “What’s up?”

The wind was nearly knocked out of him as Dalton pushed a heavy box into his arms.

“Merry Christmas!” Dalton said, nudging Evan back into his room and closing the door behind him. “Open it!”

“Thanks,” he said. Shit, he hadn’t gotten Dalton anything. They’d never gotten each other anything, in fact, even when they were roommates.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be mad if you didn’t get me anything,” Dalton said, as if he could sense Evan’s hesitance. “Yet. I accept gift cards and bottles of wine.”

“You don’t drink wine.”

“No, but Jennie does.”

“Fair enough.” Evan hesitantly tore a corner of the wrapping.

Once he got a peek of golf balls and putters, he tore the rest off in record time.

It was an indoor mini-golf kit, complete with a putter, a putting green, golf balls, and little obstacles you could set up.

“This is literally the best gift anyone’s ever gotten me,” he said in awe, staring at the box and worried he was about to cry.

“Right?” Dalton beamed at him. “Now you can mini-golf whenever! C’mon, let’s set it up. I’m dying to try it out.”

They pushed as much of the furniture aside as they could and set up a mini-mini-golf course.

Dalton grabbed a couple of drinks from the mini-fridge (“Part of your gift to me, Abs. Duh.”), and they played.

They took turns with the putter and setting up different holes, and it was only after he’d finished his first beer that Evan realized something inside him had unclenched.

He was relaxed for the first time in weeks.

And he hadn’t thought about Riley once in almost an hour. A record!

“How are things going with your guy friend?” Dalton asked, the damn mind reader. And he asked it just as Evan had lined up a shot; he missed so badly the golf ball veered off the green and rolled under the bed. Dalton whistled. “That bad, huh?”

Evan knelt down and used the putter to corral the ball into reach, giving him time to figure out what the hell he would say. Would Dalton figure out his Barczyk-troubles and guy-troubles were the same, Riley-shaped problem?

“We’re taking a break,” Evan said as he got back to his feet and set the ball back at the beginning.

“Shit. Sorry, bro. That sucks.” He watched Evan valiantly try to regain his inner calm. At least he waited until Evan had taken a slightly better shot before asking, “Think you’ll get back together?”

“I hope so, but I think I messed it up.”

Dalton frowned at him. “You’re giving up? You seemed really into this guy.”

“No, I just—“

“Have you tried, like, sending flowers?”

Evan gave up on mini-golf. He leaned the putter against the bed and sat down heavily. “To a guy?” he asked.

Dalton leaned against the wall across from Evan, arms crossed over his chest. “Guys can like flowers. Besides, it’s not about the flowers.

It’s the gesture. Showing you care and that you’re thinking of him, even though you’re apart.

You could also send a card, chocolates”—he started counting off ideas on his fingers—“a watch, a care package with his fav snacks, a houseplant—“

“A houseplant?” Evan asked incredulously. “How is that different from flowers?”

“Flowers die. Houseplants need to be nurtured. Like a relationship. It shows you’re invested in a future, but it’s not as intense as, like, getting a pet or moving in together.”

Evan stared at him. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Eddy Dalton? I lived with you for a year and a half, and you didn’t know shit about relationships. You get one girlfriend, and suddenly you’re an expert?”

“Am I giving you bad advice?”

“No, that’s why I’m having trouble here.” Evan rubbed his temple. “I need to think of a gesture.”

“Gestures don’t have to be things, BTWs. But if you’re on a break, that’s probably your best bet. Especially with us being on the road so much and the holidays coming up.” Then with a smug grin he said, “My advice should count as a second gift.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

They played a little longer, but once they ran out of overly-priced beer, Dalton helped him pack everything back into the box and left him to his now too-empty and quiet hotel room.

Since paper and pen were working for him, Evan took the pad of paper from the desk and the cheap pen and started writing a list of ideas.

He wrote everything he knew about Riley’s likes, from his style of clothing to the beer he drank to the movie posters he’d seen scattered on Riley’s bedroom wall.

He Googled gift ideas, starting with romantic ones and then more broadly when those didn’t suit Riley.

He liked the idea of a care package, since he wanted to take care of Riley like he almost had at Lawson’s place but hadn’t been allowed to.

He ordered a bunch of things to his place so he could assemble the package and drop it off once they were back in Pittsburgh, then he found a place that made custom ties and bought a duo of matching Riveters ties: one yellow with green wrenches, the other green with yellow wrenches.

Something that would be waiting at Riley’s door when he got home.

It wasn’t much, but like Dalton had said, it was about the gesture itself. Reaching out and showing that he cared. More than that, that he knew Riley. Evan saw him, not just the exterior of Barczyk the pest or Barzy the teammate. He saw Riley underneath all that, and he cared about that person.

Satisfied that this might be the little nudge Riley needed to, y’know, have a meaningful conversation with Evan in the near future, Evan tucked himself into bed and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.