Booker: You’re amazing. Tonight will be amazing. Love you.
It’s not the same as seeing him in person, but I’ll take what I can get.
Ian: Love you back.
* * *
Booker
I don’t have a ticket, but since there's only twenty minutes left in the program, I’m not gonna stress. I stride into the auditorium and head straight for the side door. The girl in the ticket booth looks up momentarily, but when I flash her my best smile—the one I learned from Whit—she waves me in.
I slip inside and take the last seat in the last row. And then, for a moment, I just close my eyes and listen to the sound of Ian’s voice. It’s like I’m transported back to that Psych of Sexuality course, but without all the fear and self-doubt. Opening my eyes, I see my boyfriend on stage. He’s in his element. The audience hangs on his every word, and I’m no exception. We’ve been together for two years now, and I’ll never get tired of hearing him talk.
I’ve heard him practice this talk dozens of times over the last few weeks, so when he gets near the end, I pull a sheet of paper from my pocket and tap the shoulder of the kid in front of me. “Can you make sure Professor McBride gets this? It’s really important.”
He nods and I take my cue to slip out the door.
* * *
Ian
I’m used to hearing doors open and close when I lecture. I’ve learned to tune them out. But I just heard the door in the back snick shut and I’m having trouble focusing for a second. I find my groove again, and finish my talk.
It went well—really well. The crowd was great, and I’m thankful so many of my students showed up. The day is catching up with me, though, and while I’d rather head home and crash, there’s a group of students and faculty waiting to talk with me.
“Ian, you were marvelous, just as I knew you would be.” The compliment from a senior department member has me beaming. I’m about to respond with thanks, when a student I recognize from my Tuesday lecture interrupts.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, Professor McBride, but the guy behind me asked me to give this to you. He said it was really important.”
I take the folded-up note paper and for half a second, I’m almost afraid to read it. But when I unfold it and see the familiar block lettering inside, my heart swells.
I HAVE SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT TO ASK YOU
I look around the room, frantically searching, but Booker’s nowhere to be seen. Did he have someone deliver this note to me? Is a delivery guy going to pop out from the wings with a bouquet of flowers?
But no, it can’t be any of that. The door closing. All of my senses on high alert. Booker was in this room. My body knew it, but I was too focused on my task for my brain to catch up. I dash toward the steps, taking them two at a time. “Booker,” I call, not caring that a few hundred people are watching as I sprint toward the door.
And just as I clear the top step, I nearly stumble right over him. My boyfriend—my gorgeous, crazy boyfriend—is crouched at the top of the stairs. He stands and wraps me in a hug. I melt into his touch before pulling back. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be playing hockey in Reno right now?”
“My boyfriend was giving a lecture tonight. I couldn’t stay away. Besides, Coach approved this quick detour because I have really good news. You’re looking at the Phoenix Scorpions’ newest rookie.”
“What? Baby, that’s the best news!” I wrap him in another hug, sure I’m shouting the roof off this auditorium, but not caring at all. My boyfriend’s a pro hockey player.
Booker takes a step back. “But that leads to my question…”
“Will I move to Arizona? Yes. Will I find another program? Yes.Do I want a seat with the WAGS? Also, yes.”
Booker smiles.“All good to know, but that’s not what I want to ask. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve pictured that jersey, you know? Me, taking center ice, wearing my team colors, my name emblazoned on the back. And now it’s coming true. It’s crazy and amazing. I can see myself taking the ice alongside my idols. I can picture my jersey in silver and black. But in my mind’s eye, the name on the back isn’t Zabek. It’s McBride.”
Suddenly, he’s on one knee in front of me, and fishing a small box out of his pocket. “Ian McBride, I love you. You’re my family, my future. Will you marry me?”
Before I can answer, the crowd behind me goes wild with excitement. It occurs to me that we have quite an audience, and that, very possibly, my engagement is being live streamed on the internet. But none of that matters. In a crowded room, he’s the only one I see.
“Yes,” I answer. “Absolutely yes.”
Booker stands and reaches for me. He kisses me soundly and I’m intoxicated by his touch. Hoots and hollers fill the auditorium, and in this moment, I’m so grateful—grateful that he gave me a second chance, and grateful for the future we’re going to build together.
Too soon, he pulls away.
