“Great,” Ryan said tightly.Nothing to worry about when you’re forty thousand feet in the air.
Wyatt shook his head. “I can’t believe you put yourself through this. Is it always this bad?”
Sometimes it’s worse.“Yeah. It is.”
“There isn’t a pill or something you can take?”
“I do take something. Sort of.” Ryan didn’t really feel like getting into the details of his anxiety meds or therapy. No point in weirding out the one guy on the team who seemed to enjoy talking to him. He decided to change the subject. “What are you reading?”
Wyatt hauled his colorful book out of the seat pocket. “It’s a collection of Jack Kirby’sMister Miraclecomics. It was a series that spun out of hisFourth Worldcomics for DC. Amazing stuff.”
Ryan had never heard of Jack Kirby, Mister Miracle, or the Fourth World, so he just nodded.
“If you ever want to borrow any books, let me know. My collection is pretty ridiculous at this point. Our basement is basically my comic lounge now. You should come over and see it some time.”
“Sure, yeah. That would be cool.” It would probably also never happen, but Ryan didn’t say that.
“Did you move into your new place yet?”
“Yeah. I still need to buy furniture for most of the rooms, but I’m in.”
“Cool. Apartment, right? Downtown?”
“Yep.” Ryan knew he could be doing a better job with the back and forth of this conversation, but he didn’t want to tell Wyatt where his apartment building was. Not that living in a sky-rise in the heart of Toronto’s LGBTQ Village meant anything necessarily—it was a downtown neighborhood with expensive properties where lots of different people lived—but Ryan knew for sure that none of his teammates lived there, so his address might raise questions. And Ryan did not like answering questions.
The plane hit a bump and he gripped the armrests.Normal. This is all normal. Like a bump in the road. Like waves under your uncle’s boat. You’re safe.
He tried to imagine that for a while, that he was on a boat instead of a plane. He’d grown up on boats back in Ross Harbour, Nova Scotia. His mother’s father and brothers were all lobster fishermen, and almost everyone in the small village owned some sort of boat. Boats comforted Ryan, even though they were probably statistically more dangerous than planes.
Thinking about boats made Ryan’s brain call up one of his favorite memories: a chilly April night, standing close enough to Fabian that their arms brushed as both boys leaned on the railing of the Halifax-Dartmouth ferry and watched a giant container ship pass in front them. Its massive hull had blacked out the lights of the city across the harbor, and Ryan had said something embarrassing about feeling small. Fabian had saidsomethingback, but Ryan could only remember the way Fabian had smiled up at him.
That smile.
It had been so sweet and shy. Ryan didn’t know—would never know—if he’d imagined the invitation in Fabian’s eyes. If they had actually moved closer together. If Fabian had tilted his head slightly, and parted his lips...
When Ryan opened his eyes, he could see Kent and Barrett were grinning at him again. They turned back around as soon as he met their eyes, because they were both fucking cowards.
Ryan pulled his book out of his seat pocket, determined to ignore his idiot teammates, and to stop daydreaming about Fabian.
And Fabian’s eye makeup.
Ryan had not been at all prepared to see Fabian with his eyes painted like that—jade-green shadow and black winged liner that made the dark brown eyes and long lashes that had enchanted Ryan as a teenager even more striking. It was an image he wasn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon.
God, he’d looked good.
He wasn’t much taller than he’d been as a teenager, but his jaw was sharper, his chest and shoulders broader. He was still very slim, but it was aman’sbody. When Fabian had crossed his arms over his chest, Ryan could make out the slight bulge of lean muscle in his arms.
Nope. Stop thinking about Fabian.
Fabian, the first boy he’dalmostkissed.
The first boy he’d desperatelywantedto kiss.
Fabian had mentioned a show he was playing. At a place called the Lighthouse? Ryan was pretty sure he’d said it was next Saturday. Ryan was playing a game in Toronto that night, but maybe it would be over early enough that he could check out Fabian’s show.
But Ryan couldn’t go tothat, could he? It’s not like Fabian had invited him. It would be weird if Ryan showed up. What would he even say?Hi, it’s me. The guy you were probably just being polite to in the drugstore the other night. I’m stalking you now.
Nope. Absolutely not.
