“So you remember Tarek, Vanessa, and Marcus. They all live here.”
“Hi,” Ryan said. “Thanks for having me.”
Fabian heard Marcus mutter, “God, Iwish,” and he narrowed his eyes at him in warning.
“You brought groceries,” Vanessa said, taking the bags from Ryan. She peeked inside one. “Is thisreal champagne?”
Everyone gathered around Vanessa as she pulled out a bottle of Moet from one of the bags.
“Ryan, what the fuck?” Fabian said. “I said bring, like, Nutella. Not hundred-dollar champagne.”
“Someone gave it to me as a gift,” Ryan said. “I was never going to drink it. I thought it might be appreciated here.”
“Oh, it’s appreciated,” Tarek said happily. “I’ll just get this on ice.” As he went to the kitchen he called back, “I love your boyfriend, Fabian!”
Holy fucking hell. Fabian’s friends were garbage.
Overall, though, brunch went pretty well. Ryan mentioned the community center he’d visited, and Tarek got excited because he was familiar with the place. As the two of them discussed all the great things the center did and the improvements it could benefit from, Fabian’s heart swelled. Since the moment he’d become aware that his feelings for Ryan went beyond curiosity, he’d worried about how he could possibly fit into Fabian’s life. Or how Fabian could fit into his. Fabian still wasn’t sure about that last thing, but watching Ryan with his friends now—infiltrating their sacred Bargain Brunch tradition, even—left him with no doubts that Ryan could fit in just fine.
Fabian didn’t like to think about Ryan’sotherlife too much, or how Fabian could belong there. Maybe he was getting too far ahead of himself, but the idea of being asked to go to hockey games, to attend team parties, to be around other hockey players and hockey fans, wasn’t something Fabian could quite stomach. He’d like to say that he wanted to try, but he really didn’t. What he wanted, and he knew it was horribly selfish of him, was for Ryan to walk away from hockey.
He told himself that it wasn’tjustfor himself that he wanted Ryan to quit; hockey wasn’t good for Ryan. Fabian didn’t have to follow the sport to see that. But suggesting that Ryan change his whole life after having known him for a few weeks seemed a bit extra, even for Fabian.
Fabian decided right then, as Ryan laughed at a joke that Marcus made, that he would get over himself and take an interest in Ryan’s career. He wasn’t sure where things were headed between them, but if their relationship was entirely about Ryan supporting and being a part of Fabian’s life and Fabian giving nothing back, it couldn’t possibly last.
Ryan hit play on the eighth video in a row of Duncan Harvey fighting. Fabian was asleep beside him, peaceful and beautiful. It was late, and Ryan should be trying to sleep, but his body hummed with anxiety. So instead he was sitting on his bed in his underwear, his laptop balanced on his thighs.
Ryan had enjoyed hanging out with Fabian’s friends that morning, but he couldn’t shake the certainty that he didn’t belong. They’d all been talking about music and art and things their friends were doing, and Ryan couldn’t contribute. And he couldn’t help but wonder, as he had been since Friday night, what exactly he and Fabian were doing. If this was just sex for Fabian, Ryan would prefer to know now because it would save him a lot of pain later.
And if it wasn’t just sex, then what was it? Were he and Fabiandating? The idea seemed preposterous, and it had seemed more preposterous when Ryan had been trying not to make a fool of himself at brunch that morning.
Preparing for the inevitable fight with Harvey was at least something productive Ryan could do to distract himself from all of his stupid, horrible thoughts. Although one of those horrible thoughts was how things like Ryan having to study videos of hockey fights were exactly why he didn’t deserve Fabian.
But hedidhave to study, because the alternative was getting brutally beaten by Harvey. Ryan didn’t lose many fights. Between his size advantage, his years of experience, and the boxing basics his dad had taught him, Ryan had the upper hand in almost every fight he’d ever been in.
Still. Duncan Harvey was terrifying.
Harvey didn’t fight with the skill that Ryan did. He fought like he had nothing to lose, and that both scared and saddened Ryan. He knew that Harvey had had troubles with addiction in the past, and that he’d been forced into rehab by the league a couple of times. Ryan wasn’t sure if Harvey was still having problems—he really didn’t know him well at all—but he didn’t seem like a guy who had straightened his life out.
The fans loved it when Ryan and Harvey fought each other. There were plenty of videos of the two of them going toe-to-toe, but Ryan avoided those ones. He didn’t like to watch himself fight. The few times he had watched a video of one of his own fights, he’d felt something akin to vertigo. It was a weird sensation, watching himself do something that hecouldremember doing, but being unable to believe he had actually done it. He lookedscarywhen he was fighting, like his body had been temporarily possessed by a demon. But Ryan knew that wasn’t the case. When he dropped the gloves, he pulled a dark part of himself forward. It was, strangely, one of the only times he ever felt truly calm.
But preparing for a fight. The anticipation of fighting. That was different.
He watched Duncan Harvey land a punch, and Ryan winced as his opponent fell to the ice. Brutal. He knew that Harvey tended to wait and let his opponents get a few futile swings in before dropping them quickly with a merciless right hook. It was like watching a predator toying with its prey, giving it false hope.
“What are you watching?”
Ryan’s head whipped around so fast he nearly injured himself. Fabian’s head was still nestled into the pillow, but his eyes were open.
“Oh. Uh, nothing. Just hockey stuff.”
“Fights?”
“Maybe.” Ryan closed his laptop.
Fabian raised himself on an elbow. “Are there really videos of just the fights from hockey games online?” He scoffed. “What am I talking about? Of course there are.”
“Yeah. I sometimes watch them before games. Of the guy I’m expecting to fight.”
