Thankfully, Fabian spoke first. “I know I was probably rude to you when we lived together.”
“You weren’t.” It wasn’t entirely true. Fabian had been blatantly uninterested in Ryan, mostly ignoring him and, when forced to acknowledge him, his words had been clipped and dismissive. But over time he had thawed a bit, and they’d been able to forge a quiet and precarious friendship of sorts.
“I was. I expected you to be like all the others, so I didn’t even give you a chance.”
“At first, maybe.” Ryan gave him a shy smile. “But I think I won you over, right?”
Fabian smiled up at him, just as shyly, and Ryan’s breath caught.
Then the rain started. Frigid drops that were on the edge of being ice pellets stung Ryan’s face, and Fabian shrieked.
“Come inside!” he called as he dashed up the stairs. He fumbled with the lock. “Fuck this stupid piece of shit door! There.” He pushed it open, and Ryan followed him in.
When they were inside the tiny apartment, Fabian hung his coat on a hook by the door, and made a grabby motion for Ryan’s. “You may as well stay until the rain stops.”
“It might rain all night,” Ryan pointed out, but he handed Fabian his coat. Fabian ignored his weather report and walked to the bar fridge that was tucked in one corner, next to a two-burner cooktop and a sink. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“I haven’t even opened this one yet,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s warm up. And please make yourself comfortable. You can sit on the bed, or...well, just the bed, I guess.”
Ryan noted that the desk chair, the only other place to sit in the room, was piled high with discarded clothing. He sat at the very end of the bed, hands in his lap, back straight. He really should say no to the wine. And the bed. And being here at all. Instead, he said nothing, and took a moment to study Fabian’s home. The cluttered desk had what looked like three Catholic prayer candles, but when Ryan leaned forward he could see that the women on them weren’t the Virgin Mary, but Dolly Parton, RuPaul, and Beyoncé.
Fabian handed Ryan a goblet that saidMom’s Time to Wineon it. “It’s the second-cheapest pinot grigio they had,” he said, before sitting near the head of the bed, resting back against the pillows. His own wine glass saidBrideon it.
Ryan took a sip of wine, because he didn’t know what else to do. “It’s good,” he said. “The wine, I mean.” It could be terrible. It could be actual battery acid. Ryan’s brain was in a million pieces right now. Why was he here? Why were they both on Fabian’s bed? Was Fabian trying toseducehim? Did Ryanwanthim to?
Fabian tapped a socked foot against Ryan’s thigh. “You don’t have to sit there with your back to me, you know. Relax.”
Ryan set his glass on the desk and slipped his boots off. Then he carefully stretched out on the bed, leaning on one elbow. He kept as much distance as possible between their bodies, worried that the slightest invitation might cause him to jump poor Fabian, who was only being nice.
“So,” Fabian said breezily, “how’s hockey?”
Ryan huffed out a laugh. “Hockey is fine.”
“Is it?”
Ryan frowned. “Sure. I don’t know. I guess it’s been a little...tiring. Lately.”
Fabian traced the wordBridewith his fingertip. “Do you ever think about quitting? Or retiring. However you say it.”
“Sometimes. I’m only thirty-one, but...”
“But?”
“My heart’s not really in it anymore.”
“Then why do you still do it?”
Ryan shifted on the bed, bending his knees and tucking them in closer to his body. “Because I know how lucky I am. I know how many guys would kill to have a spot on an NHL team. Throwing it away would just be...disrespectful.”
For a moment, Fabian said nothing, and then he said, “Did you know, after I graduated, I auditioned for the Toronto Symphony?”
“No. But I always imagined that’s where you’d end up. I was kind of surprised, to be honest, to learn that you weren’t playing with them.”
“It was always my dream. So I auditioned. And...I was offered a spot.”
“Wait. You were a member of the Toronto Symphony?”
“Mmhm. For two whole months.”
