Page 49 of True North
And things with JT were going so well—so much better than Misha had dreamed. They had sex every day, sometimes twice a day, but even better were all the small moments of casual intimacy that had sprung up between them without discussion: exchanging a quick kiss before JT left the house, lying nestled together on the couch as they watched TV, towel-drying each other’s hair after they went swimming in the lake.
Misha felt fully entangled in a way that might have scared him if it were anyone other than JT. It was true that he hadn’t known JT for very long and still didn’t know a lot of the little facts about his life that people usually mistook for knowing, the names of friends and childhood pets, the circumstances of his first kiss. But he knew what kind of person JT was and knew that JT was someone he could trust. At the end of the day, nothing else mattered.
Sveta came on Saturday morning, as she usually did. They had lessons two mornings a week, and in between, Misha was expected to practice whichever new grammatical form they had studied. Sveta no longer seemed concerned about his vocabulary, which expanded with each passing day between television, JT, and now the restaurant.
“But you have to stop taking shortcuts,” she told him sternly. “Not ‘I am work.’ You know the gerund. ‘I am working.’”
“Everyone understand,” Misha protested.
She pointed a finger at him. “Everyoneunderstands. That’s true, but you wouldn’t want them to think I’m a poor teacher, would you?”
“No, Sveta,” Misha said, abashed. He hadn’t thought of that.
At the end of the lesson, when Sveta was gathering her things, he said, “Can I ask—there are other Russian speakers here? In Soo?”
“A few that I know of. Some Russians, some Ukrainians.” Sveta picked up her tote bag and considered him. “A friend of mine hosts dinners once a month. I’m sure she’d be happy to extend an invitation to you if you’re ready for that.”
From various comments she had made, Sveta had clearly decided Misha was some sort of shut-in, which he had to admit wasn’t totally inaccurate. “I would like very much. If it’s okay.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Sveta promised. “See you Wednesday.”
He conveyed this information to JT when JT got home from his workout, pleased with himself for taking the initiative and positive JT would be pleased with him, too. And JT did smile at him as he filled a glass of water at the sink, sweaty T-shirt draped around his neck, but it looked a little hollow.
“That’s great,” JT said. “Making friends.”
“And I go to shifter meeting again,” Misha pressed on, hoping to provoke the genuine enthusiasm he had expected. “On Monday.”
“You’re really making a life for yourself here.” JT turned off the tap with more care than usual and didn’t meet Misha’s gaze as he chugged half the glass. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, great,” Misha said, feeling distinctly wrong-footed. JT was acting weird.
“Hey, speaking of socializing. I’m having dinner with my parents tomorrow.” JT cut a sideways glance at Misha. “My dad keeps bugging me about you. You’ve got the night off work, right? You want to come?”
Misha hesitated. He didn’t, actually, want to meet JT’s family. When it was just the two of them in the house together, Misha could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. JT didn’t have a job or any other obligations that might take him away from Misha. But Misha had already invited the world to creep in, beginning when he agreed to English lessons. It was too late now to go back to their initial isolation. And he couldn’t deny he was curious about JT’s family.
“Sure, okay,” he said. “Let’s dinner.”
Twenty
Misha was quiet in the truck on the way to JT’s parents’ house, but he was often quiet, busy staring out the window and thinking his private thoughts. Not necessarily cause for concern. He’d seemed fine all day and had even let JT suck his dick shortly before they left the house, sprawled in one of the kitchen chairs while JT killed his knees and got off hard on the idea that anyone passing by on a boat could see him through the French doors. They probably couldn’t, but it was the thought that counted.
“What you said to them about me?” Misha asked as JT turned onto his parents’ street.
“Oh, uh.” JT tried to remember which details he’d doled out. “They know you’re a shifter. They know you were living in the woods for a while. They—” He cut himself off, realizing with a horrible sinking sensation that he hadn’t actually told them Misha was living with him. He’d told them about Misha’s English lessons and his new job, but he’d left out some pretty significant information. Oh, god. Well, maybe it wouldn’t come up tonight, and he could break the news later, gently, and in private.
“You didn’t say how I fuck you?” Misha asked, oblivious, grinning.
“Oh my god, no.” JT reached over and lightly smacked Misha’s thigh. “They don’t need to know that about me. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still a virgin.”
“You said they know you, um. Gay?”
“Yeah, for years. I came out to them in high school. They were pretty surprised at first, and my dad was really worried that I’d have a hard time with hockey. Guys can be pretty, uh. Homophobic. But they’ve been really supportive. My siblings, too.” He hesitated. “They liked my ex a lot. They were kind of mad at me when we broke up.”
He braced himself for Misha to immediately follow up on that, but instead Misha went back to staring out the window. As JT braked to a stop at the curb in front of his parents’ house, Misha said, “I wonder if I tell my family, how they think.”
JT’s chest clenched with sympathy. “You could try. I know it’s hard.”
Misha turned his head even farther in the direction of the window. “I don’t talk with them. Not for a long time.”