“Oh,” she said. Then, “Ohhhhhh.”
Fabian rolled his eyes. “Nope. Just friends. Or whatever.”
“Sure.”
“As if I’m going to fuck ahockey player.”
Instead of laughing, or arguing, Vanessa made a weird face that Fabian interpreted asRyan the hockey player is standing right behind you.
Shit.
Chapter Six
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 agreat 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’sreallynot. You came to my show, you’re helping me carry my gear home, you don’t evenknowme, 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.”
