“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 ofI’m gayyou 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 itmayhave 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 lookedsad. “Do youlikeit? The fighting?”
Ryan sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Do you get in fightsoffthe 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 Iamgood 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’mstarving. 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.”
