When I scanned the diner, I noticed people at the counter glancing over their shoulders at us, so I returned my attention to Jakob.
“Have I made my point?” I asked.
“What the hell was that for?”
“For trying to draw me a diagram like I’m some kind of an idiot just because I asked for clarification.”
“Defensive much?”
“How can I not be defensive? You had the nerve to ask me what’s next?”
Okay, so maybe I was being a little defensive. But to be fair, I had a good reason. If he was talking about our relationship, then I had good cause to object to his broaching the topic during lunch, when I just wanted to relax and not have to think about anything heavy. Hell, the fact that he’d raised the topic while in a public place should’ve pissed me off more than anything else. Common sense aside, it put me on the spot and also forced me to behave.
Maybe that was the point.
Still, I couldn’t look across the table at Jakob and stay mad at him for any longer than thirty seconds.
“Okay, Jakob,” I said. “Enlighten me. What do you want to know about what comes next?”
“I want to talk about what comes next for us. And don’t sound so excited.”
Okay, I nearly choked back my rage, and I’m one hundred percent sure it showed. Chalk up a moral victory for Jakob. I could’ve lunged over the table at him, but he would’ve taken that as a sexual overture. Doing so would also constitute moral victory number two for that moron.
Take a deep breath, big guy. Nice and slow, in and out.
I followed my inner voice’s advice, but couldn’t stop my fingers from curling, ready to rake across the tabletop.
“With everything’s that’s happened in just the last week,” he said, “I feel like we’ve got to at least talk about it. You can’t leave shit unaddressed because the problem will just fester.”
“And where did you hear that?”
“Dr. Phil. He still makes occasional TV appearances, you know.”
“And what did he say about us?”
“Nothing. I just remember him saying that you’ve got to address shit or the problem will fester.”
“I’m sure he said it in those words, too.”
Jakob paused. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t necessarily get even, at least not actively. In fact, Jakob Martin really was the most chill hockey player I’d ever met, but he had his limits, and it appeared I’d approached at least one of them.
“You’re stalling.” He spoke in a low tone, and I couldn’t mistake his meaning. It was one of the few sarcasm-free things I’d heard him say.
“Okay, maybe I am stalling, it’s just… I don’t want to analyze whatever we’ve got going on here?—”
“We’re boyfriends.”
“Right, uh…”
He used that word. Fuck. Yeah, we’d already agreed that we were in some sort of relationship, even if we’d largely avoided labels, but something about that word felt so strange to me.Significant other, maybereal good friend, or evensteady piece of asswould’ve worked just fine, though I wouldn’t say that right now. Jakob held too many cards in this conversation for dissent.
“After that last game,” he said, “something became really clear to me.”
“What became clear?”
His eyes shifted towards the entrance like he was expecting someone to join us and then sighed. It seemed like he knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t articulate it. Worse, he seemed to lack the power to push the words past his lips.
“You can go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say,” I told him.
