Page 12 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

It turned out that Fabian’s music was available online.

Ryan had discovered this on the Thursday after Fabian’s show, and he’d immediately purchased and downloaded everything he could find.

He’d spent most of that day listening to all of it.

When he’d decided, late in the afternoon, that he really needed to get some groceries for dinner, he brought his earbuds so he could continue to listen as he walked to the store.

He focused on the intricacies of Fabian’s music, which was providing a nice soundtrack for the beautiful autumn day in Toronto.

Since the end of the game he’d played last night, Ryan had been slipping pretty steadily into preflight panic mode.

The flight to Ottawa would barely be anything—they would be landing almost as soon as they hit cruising altitude—but it still involved a takeoff, a landing, and way too much space between the plane and the ground.

Which was exactly the sort of thing he should not be thinking about.

He tried to appreciate the cheerful rainbow flags that decorated almost every business on this section of Church Street, and the attractive men who were just everywhere around him.

Men who were openly and fearlessly holding hands and, yes, this was a good place.

Ryan felt at least a little bit at ease here.

Of course, the idea of actually talking to one of the many attractive men—or god help him, flirting with them—made Ryan want to curl into a ball. Except that ball would still be enormous and, no doubt, noticeable on the busy sidewalk.

Good things. Focus on good things.

Tea was a good thing. An iced chai latte was an even better thing, so Ryan decided to stop into the fancy-looking coffee shop that he’d almost passed by.

There were two people in line in front of him, so Ryan stared up at the menu, confirming that they had iced chai lattes.

He mentally rehearsed placing his order.

Ordering food was always one of his most embarrassing problem areas; he tended to stammer, and sometimes ordered the wrong thing, or the first thing he saw.

If a server suggested something to him, he would order it even if he didn’t want it.

But surely even he could order a fucking latte.

When he got to the counter, the cute barista smiled at him. “Hello. How are you today?”

“Chai—I mean, good. I’m good.” Come on, Ryan.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh. The, um, chai latte. But with ice.”

“An iced chai latte? What size?”

“Oh.” Ryan glanced back up at the board, where there were two prices listed next to iced chai latte but no actual sizes. “The, um...”

The barista helpfully held up two different sized plastic cups. “Regular and large.”

Ryan pointed to the larger one. “Large. Thanks.”

He paid by tapping his bank card because he loved the tap feature. He loved anything that ended a transaction faster. He selected the highest suggested tip amount, as usual.

“You can wait at the end of the counter there. It will just be a minute. Thank you!”

Ryan was grateful for the instruction. He hated not knowing where to stand. He found a spot where he wouldn’t be too in the way and waited.

“Ryan?”

Ryan looked first at the counter, thinking his drink had been made already. But he hadn’t given them his name, so that was dumb. Then he turned toward the tables in the café and saw Fabian.

“I thought that was you!” Fabian beamed at him.

“Yup. Hi.” Jesus, what are the odds?

“Large iced chai latte?” someone called from the counter. Ryan turned and accepted his drink. When he turned back to Fabian, Fabian gestured him over.

“Come sit. Unless you’re rushing off somewhere.”

Ryan maneuvered himself through the narrow spaces between tables until he got to Fabian.

There was a notebook open in front of him on the table, the pages full of words scribbled in pencil.

There were also loose pages of handwritten sheet music.

Fabian tidied everything into a neat stack as Ryan sat in the chair across from him.

“Good choice,” Fabian said, nodding at the drink.

Ryan didn’t reply. He was completely distracted by Fabian’s face.

Unlike the other two times Ryan had seen him, Fabian wasn’t wearing any makeup today.

At least, none that Ryan noticed. His hair was tucked under a black toque, and he had dark stubble on his jaw.

He looked so different, but no less beautiful.

His dark brown eyes were still fringed by the same long, full lashes that had fascinated Ryan as a teenager.

His plush lips were quirked up in a playful little smile.

Probably because Ryan was staring at him.

“Sorry,” Ryan said. “What?”

Fabian waved his hand dismissively, and Ryan noticed the dark blue polish on his nails. “Nothing. What are you up to today?”

“I was heading to the grocery store. Just to get something for dinner.”

“Ah. I should probably do that myself.”

“What’s all this?” Ryan asked, gesturing to the stack of papers. It was weird to be talking to the person whose music he had just been enjoying.

“Oh, I’m just working on something. I was struck by inspiration today, but I needed a change of scenery. As you saw, my apartment is a little grim.”

“I liked it,” Ryan said, remembering the red-painted walls, the deep plum bedspread and curtains, and the eclectic pile of cheerful pillows. “It was...colorful.”

Fabian pressed his lips together, then said, “Mm. I’ll give you the complete tour next time. You may not have seen all four corners.”

Next time. “I just mean, it looked like you, y’know?”

Fabian rested his chin in his palm, obviously amused. “You know me already, do you? And here I thought I was complex.”

“You are!” Oh god. “I mean, I don’t know you. You’re right. Not really.” Ryan’s face burned like the sun.

Fabian laughed. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t exactly say we’re strangers, would you?”

Ryan smiled shyly back. “No.”

He took a sip of his latte, and Fabian asked, “So, you...played a hockey game last night?”

That made Ryan laugh. “I did. Yes.”

“Did you win? Sorry I didn’t ask about it before.”

“It’s okay. We did win.”

“Hey! Good for you! Go Guardians.” He waved his hands in the air what Ryan assumed was supposed to be a celebratory manner.

“You’re mocking me.”

“Never. I am nothing if not a sports fan.”

“Do you know where the arena is?”

“Yes.” Fabian mocked offense. “I saw Beyoncé there, so...”

Ryan laughed, and then said, “I saw her in Boston.”

Fabian’s eyes went wide. “You’re a fan?”

“Isn’t everyone? And I’m not sure what part of I’m gay you didn’t understand.”

“Honestly?” Fabian said. “All parts of it. I’m afraid I’ve developed a bit of a prejudice against hockey players, and it may have caused me to make some false assumptions.”

“That we’re all super-straight aggressive jocks?”

“Well, yes.”

“You don’t have to be straight to be an aggressive jock. Believe me.”

Fabian seemed to consider this as Ryan took another sip of latte. “You’re not. An aggressive jock, I mean. You never were.”

Ryan felt a pleasant warmth bubble inside him at Fabian’s kind assessment, but he had to be honest. “I know you don’t follow hockey, but do have any idea what my job is?”

“Playing...hockey?”

“Yeah. But my job on the team—on every team—is being, ah, intimidating. I’m a fighter, mostly.” Ryan kept his eyes on his drink. “So aggressive jock might be a good description for me, actually.”

He glanced up, and Fabian looked sad. “Do you like it? The fighting?”

Ryan sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Do you get in fights off the ice?”

“No. I’ve broken up a few in my life. Bars, parties, that sort of thing. But I don’t fight people when I’m not being paid to do it, no. I’ve never wanted to either.”

“You must be good at it, if you’ve made a career of it.”

Ryan shrugged. “Yeah. I’m good at it. About the only thing I am good at.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Ryan finished his drink and then figured he should probably leave. He was about to say so when Fabian asked him, “You said you’re going to the grocery store?”

“Yeah. Thought I’d pick up something from the frozen aisle for dinner.”

“That does sound incredible, but have you ever been to the ramen place on the corner here?”

“No.”

Fabian leaned in. “Wanna go?”

“Now? With you?”

“Yes. I’m starving. Sometimes I get lost in writing and I forget to eat. I realize that makes me sound like a moron.”

Ryan was pretty sure he had never forgotten to eat in his entire life. “No. It doesn’t.”

“So you want to go?”

“Uh...”

“I said I’d show you the neighborhood.” Fabian stood up and shoved his papers into his bag. “We can start with ramen.”

Ryan grinned. He really liked this idea. He liked anything that gave him a chance to be around Fabian. He was...comforting. “Okay.”

It wasn’t until they were seated at an intimate table in the corner of the ramen restaurant that Fabian realized he may have just invited Ryan on a date. Or, at least, what Ryan might perceive to be a date. In truth, Fabian had just wanted ramen and conversation.

And, yes. He liked looking at Ryan.

Ryan, who was studying his menu as if there would be a test on it, wasn’t looking at Fabian. Even at the coffee shop, Ryan had seemed tired. Or stressed, maybe. Now he seemed like he was already regretting his decision to follow Fabian to a second location.

“Hey,” Fabian said gently, as if Ryan might spook if his voice were too loud. “If you don’t want to eat here, I won’t be offended. It was just a suggestion.”

Ryan finally looked up from his menu. “No! No, it’s fine. I just...what do you usually order here?”

“I always get the Tonkotsu ramen because the broth takes forever to make. Like, I’d never boil bones for hours at home. And it’s delicious.”

Ryan closed his menu. “Okay.”

“But,” Fabian said quickly, “they have lots of stuff. Some of the ramen has beef, or seafood, or some have spicy broth, if you prefer.”

“The first one you said is fine.”