Page 9 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

Fabian turned and, sure enough, there was giant, sweet Ryan, holding the keyboard in one hand, the stand in the other, and had the heavy backpack full of gear slung over one shoulder.

“Is there, uh, anything else?” Ryan asked. He was very obviously pretending he hadn’t heard Fabian’s awful comment. The parts of his face that weren’t covered in beard were flushed and he was looking at the floor.

“Nope!” Fabian said, overly cheerful. There was no reason to address what Fabian had just said.

It wasn’t like sex was on the table anyway.

Ryan was a hockey star, and Fabian was..

.the worst. “I’ve got the violin.” He raised the hand that was holding the case, waving it around as if it were hard to see.

“Okay. Should we head out?”

“Yes. Bye Vanessa! Have fun tonight!” Ugh. Fabian did not like the shame that was coursing through him like fire.

“I will. And thank you, Ryan, for helping. You seem like a great guy.” She glared at Fabian when she said those last words. Fabian wanted to die.

He turned his attention to Ryan with a forced smile plastered on his face. “Shall we?”

The crisp November night air didn’t do much to relieve the heat in Fabian’s cheeks. He wrapped his wine-colored pashmina scarf around his neck and buried the lower half of his face in it.

They made it one block, in silence, before Fabian couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry I said that. It was very rude and I feel like an asshole.”

He glanced up at Ryan’s profile, and he could tell he was deciding whether or not to acknowledge that he had, in fact, heard what Fabian had said earlier.

“It’s okay,” Ryan said finally.

“It’s really not. You came to my show, you’re helping me carry my gear home, you don’t even know me, really. I made a stupid joke and it was shitty and I’m sorry.”

“All right.”

They walked another block in silence, and then Ryan said, “I wouldn’t fuck a hockey player either.”

Fabian’s laugh sounded like a honk, which was humiliating, but he was relieved and delighted by Ryan’s joke.

Ryan smiled down at him and it occurred to Fabian, in that moment, that this guy was fearlessly—and seemingly happily—walking beside a man who was wearing a full face of dramatic makeup. That wasn’t nothing.

Fabian nudged him with his shoulder, which hit Ryan somewhere just above his elbow. “So we have something in common. Besides being gay Nova Scotians in Toronto.”

“Yep.”

It only took a few more minutes to reach the street where Fabian’s shitty apartment building was.

It was only then, relieved of some of his previous embarrassment, that he realized how imbalanced the load was between them.

“Oh my god. Let me at least take the keyboard stand. I can’t believe I let you carry all of that. ”

“It’s fine,” Ryan grunted. But then he stopped and held out the stand. “Actually. Yeah. Sorry. My back has been bothering me a bit lately.”

Maybe a meteor could land on Fabian right now. The perfect end to a perfect evening. “Let me take the keyboard too. Or the backpack.” He managed a flirty smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Well, my apartment is just right there anyway.” Fabian gestured ahead of them with his violin case. “Ground floor too. Totally easy delivery job.”

A minute later they were standing together on the step at the front of Fabian’s apartment building as he struggled with the key. It was in an ancient two-story building that used to be an orphanage or a children’s hospital or something. Either way, it was, as Vanessa had put it, for sure haunted.

“This stupid fucking lock,” he grumbled, jiggling the key until it finally turned.

They were greeted by the familiar cocktail of smells that Fabian now recognized as home: musty walls, garlic-heavy vegan cooking, and weed.

There was a wooden staircase with worn carpet directly in front of them, leading to the three apartments on the second floor.

On the ground floor, there was a door to each side of the staircase, and Fabian directed Ryan to the door on the left.

“This is me,” he said, turning the key in a lock that was only slightly less stubborn than the one outside. “Get ready to be dazzled by opulence.”

Ryan followed him into the tiny studio apartment. Fabian set the gear he’d been carrying against one bright red wall, and gestured for Ryan to do the same. “Thank you again. That really was very nice of you.”

“No problem.” Ryan carefully placed the keyboard and backpack on the floor with a quiet grunt.

“How’s your back?”

“Good as ever.” He looked enormous in the confines of Fabian’s apartment. He also looked extremely uncomfortable and out of place. Fabian waited for him to say something, but instead Ryan just stared at his hands, flexing them and rubbing his knuckles.

“Oh my god!” Fabian exclaimed. Without thinking, he took Ryan’s left hand in his own.

“What happened?” There was dark bruising on the knuckles, and Fabian ran his fingers delicately over them, back and forth.

“I can’t believe you carried all that stuff when your hand is busted up! Does it hurt? It must hurt.”

“Uh,” Ryan said quietly. Fabian glanced up and saw that Ryan was staring at Fabian’s fingers.

Fabian dropped his hand and stepped back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. They don’t hurt too much.” Ryan shoved his bruised hand in the pocket of his wool coat and looked at the floor. Quite a lot of hair had escaped from the bun he’d tied it back in, and the loose tendrils were hanging around his face. It was a good look.

“So that’s normal for you? Bashed-up hands?”

Ryan shrugged. “Pretty normal, yeah.”

Fabian remembered noticing similar bruising on teenage Ryan’s hands. He was pretty sure Ryan had tried to hide it from him then too.

“Well,” Ryan said. “I should probably get going.” He said it at the same moment that Fabian said, “Can I offer you a drink?”

“What?” Ryan said.

“I have most of a bottle of wine in the fridge.” Fabian pulled his own scarf off and draped it over a chair that already had several scarves on it. “Or tea, if you prefer. I might have one of those grapefruit sparking waters left...”

“I—no. That’s okay. I’m pretty tired after the game. I should go.”

“If you’re sure.” Fabian ducked his head and slipped the necklaces off, laying them over the scarf. He wondered what Ryan would do if he removed his shirt next.

“I’m sure. But...it was nice. Seeing you again.”

Fabian stepped closer to him. He smelled good. “Likewise.”

Fabian wasn’t sure what his plan was here.

He didn’t want Ryan to leave, but he also had no idea why he wanted him to stay.

If he and Ryan had never met before tonight; if Ryan had just been a big, strong, attractive stranger who had offered to walk Fabian home, Fabian would be tearing his clothes off right now.

But Ryan wasn’t a stranger, and while part of Fabian really liked the idea of tearing his clothes off, he just.. .couldn’t.

Not even when Ryan was gazing down at him in a way that took Fabian right back to that night on a ferry all those years ago.

To that moment where he’d thought for a wild second that Ryan was going to kiss him.

Fabian could kiss him now. He could go up on his tiptoes and brush his lips against Ryan’s.

It didn’t even need to be a big deal. It would be a simple thank-you kiss, the kind Fabian gave his friends all the time.

But instead, Fabian said, “We should do this again sometime.”

Ryan blinked and jerked back a bit. “What?”

“I mean, we should hang out. Get coffee. You know. Catch up some more.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed, but then he nodded. “I’d like that. Can I get your number?” They traded phones and entered their numbers. “I haven’t really explored the neighborhood too much.”

“Well, let me be your guide.” Fabian’s tone had gone silky again. Much too flirtatious.

Ryan froze, and Fabian mentally kicked himself. Ryan was not the kind of guy you were casually flirtatious with. When they’d been teenagers, Ryan had gotten so easily flustered whenever Fabian had attempted to tease him. It didn’t seem like that had changed.

It was still inconveniently charming.

“I’ll wait to hear from you, then,” Ryan said stiffly. He raised one hand, as if he was going to offer a farewell handshake, then seemed to think better of it and stuffed his hand in his coat pocket instead. “Good night.”

“Good night, Ryan Price. Take care of those hands.”

Ryan nodded, and left. When the door closed, Fabian cringed. Did take care of those hands sound flirty? It definitely sounded dumb.

With a sigh, Fabian fell back onto his bed. What a weird night.