Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“One,” I say in unison with Anthony’s, “Two.”
“No, no. My treat,” I insist. I’m the one who asked him out. I’d like to be the one to pay.
“Fine, but my treat next time.”
Does that mean he wants to go on a second date too? Tingles I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced about something as small as a date shoot up my spine. “Deal.”
I give Sota my card, and he returns a few minutes later with the receipt. Once I’ve signed, Anthony and I are heading out the door.
“That was fun,” he says. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”
“Thanks for going out with me.”
The conversation continues to flow until I’m pulling into the lot by Anthony’s building. The horny guy inside me wishes he would invite me up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an orgasm with anyone other than myself—not that him asking me up means we would automatically be hooking up. I’m not down with assumptions like that.
But another part of me knows that even if Anthony did ask me up for sex, as much as I want it with him, I would say no. I don’t want to rush into that. The times I’ve randomly hooked up, it wasn’t with someone I was interested in possibly pursuing a relationship with. I want to take things slow with him.
“Thanks again for tonight,” Anthony says.
“Of course. Sorry I have to head home early, otherwise I’d make you watch Sunset Boulevard with me. But, hockey.” Now that I’ve put it out there, I would like to go up with him and watch the show, but it’s not a good night for me, and this way, if he’s considering asking, he knows I want to but can’t.
“No problem. The last thing I would want is to be a distraction for the best goalie in the league.”
“I think I love you,” I joke, and Anthony snickers. “Hey, you should come to our home game on Thursday. I can get you a ticket.”
“I thought I was supposed to treat you next? You’re showing me up.”
“I guess you’ll have to take me out twice.”
“You’re really pushing it…” Anthony jokes, then, “Are you sure it’s not a big deal? I don’t ever want to feel like I’m taking advantage of our friendship. I can buy my own ticket.”
There’s not a single part of me that would think Anthony is taking advantage. He doesn’t have a deceptive bone in his body. “Nah, it’s fine. I can get it no problem, and I like it when you watch me play.”
“Cocky boys.” He shakes his head. “But I like to watch you play, so I’ll take you up on the offer.”
Anthony unclicks his seat belt, pauses, then leans over and kisses my cheek. “Good night, Kason.”
“Good night, Anthony,” I reply, then watch until he gets inside his building…and maybe I stay put a few minutes afterward too.
*
I’m just finishing my morning meditation when my cell rings. I automatically smile when I see Courtney’s name on the screen. “Hey, big sis.”
Sometimes I wonder how one person can be so lucky, and that person is me. Not only did I get blessed with parents who worked themselves to the bone to make my dreams come true, but an older sister who would do anything for me as well. When she hit sixteen, it was Court helping me get back and forth to hockey while our parents worked, Court babysitting me and shooting pucks at me over and over and over again. She was the first person I told I’m bisexual, and not just because I knew she was lesbian, but because there was no one else I wanted to know before her. I wouldn’t be half the man or hockey player I am without her. That’s partly why it’s so important to me to give back, not just to my family, but in general. A lot of people out there haven’t been nearly as lucky as me.
“You heading to practice soon?” Court asks.
“Yeah.” I push to my feet and head toward the kitchen to make breakfast.
We chat about hockey, the upcoming schedule, and about when she, my parents, and her wife, Aline, might be able to come out and visit, before she asks, “Do anything fun besides hockey lately?”
I grin, my evening with Anthony playing like a movie in my brain. “Date.”
“Wow. Who are they?”
I love that she says they, leaving it open for me to tell her about a woman, man, or nonbinary person. She’s a therapist for mostly queer youth, and I learned to be intentional with my words because of her. “Anthony. I might have mentioned him before. He’s friends with Rylan’s boyfriend, Hayes.”
“I remember him. He’s one of the men treated like shit by that Malcolm person. Poor guy.”
I flinch at her description, not because I’m ashamed or think Anthony has any reason to be, but because I hate to think about what happened to him. He’s also a whole lot more than what happened to him, so I don’t want that to be the first thing people think of about him. “He’s a dancer. At this bar in West Hollywood. He’s also kind, funny, and I find him incredibly intriguing.”