Page 70 of The Roommate Game
I crossed my arms and leaned on the counter. “Yes, I…um, my short program is coming together, I skated well, and with any luck, I’ll find out if I made the team in the next day or two.”
Gus tapped his temple. “I fuckin’ call it now. It’s happening.”
My lips curled in amusement, but I sobered quickly and blurted, “Eli was pissed that I backed out of the interview. He sort of spiraled and insinuated that he knew there was something between me and you. He wasn’t quiet about it, so now my whole team thinks I cheated on him with you. And he made a crack about wondering how Smithton High hockey players and their parents would react if they knew their incoming coach was queer. Those weren’t his exact words, but that’s the gist. I’msorry you got dragged into this. I figured you should know in case someone asks if you’re…with me.”
He cocked his head curiously and snickered. “Hang on a sec. You’re fucking with my flatbread. The dough is temperamental. It has to be the perfect temp, or it sticks to your fingers.”
I frowned. “Did you hear me?”
“I did. Some douche wants to use me to throw you off your game, and you were about to let him.Tsk tsk, Johannsen. You should know better than that,” Gus scolded, motioning for me to wash my hands. “I’ll put some flour on the cutting board, and you can knead the dough.”
“He was vaguely threatening,” I argued a few minutes later, up to my elbows in flour. “People are nuts these days and…I had to tell you.”
“Thanks, but I’m out. People know I’m bi, Rafey. Coach Beekman knows, my teammates know, my teachers know, my parents even know. Fucking Eli knows. I’ve never had a boyfriend, so maybe it hasn’t been news, but it’s not a secret.”
“But they think you’re with me.”
“Iamwith you.”
“Yes, but…no. And I don’t want to put you in a bad position. To be clear, I know where we stand, and I’m all too aware that time is ticking. We won’t be roommates forever and this—whatever we are—will be—oh! I think the dough is ready.”
I lowered my head and stepped to the sink. I wanted to be cool about this, willing myself to hold it together as I reached for a paper towel to dry my hands.
Gus snaked his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. I was relying on him to get us back to neutral. And he did…in Gus-like fashion. No maudlin nostalgic musings or unrealistic promises to be something impossible.
Just…
“I love it when I make dinner, and you get to clean up.”
I took the lifeline and laughed. “Why shouldIclean up? This isn’t my mess.”
“But you’re partaking of this amazing meal and fair’s fair, baby.”
“Do I get co-author credit?”
“Co-author? For rolling dough? That’s some new kind of bull-honky,” he huffed, smacking my ass.
“Bull-honky?”
“Poppycock, horsefeathers, hogwash…I could keep going,” he warned.
“Please do.”
I didn’t bother hiding my grin as he chattered on. Or the tears I were sure made my eyes too shiny. Gus wouldn’t judge me.
“Weird request. Are you ready for it?” he asked, bumping my hip.
“Mmm. Sure.”
“I want to see you skate in that blue costume. Just once…”
I met his earnest gaze and traced a thumb over his bottom lip. “Okay.”
Gus smiled, and pulled me onto his chest. I listened to the night settle around us in the kitchen. My heart felt too big, as if it had expanded in my body and crowded my lungs, blocking precious airwaves.
All I could think was…
He feels like home.