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He smiles and takes the ring between his fingers. He toys with it for a little while.
“Do you want me to come out?” he asks, voice so, so quiet.
I raise my brows at the sudden change of topic.
“I didn’t think you were planning to,” I say slowly.
“I…” He drags his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t. But it seems unfair to you, and I feel like a coward because I… I don’t know if I’m ready for it right now.” He motions toward his leg. “This won’t make me an enticing prospect to any team. If I throw in the bisexual thing…”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to make you come out. You’ll do it if and when you’re ready.”
“It’s selfish if I don’t.”
I shrug. “Who says? Because I don’t think I’d call it that. And even if it is, so what? It’s life. I’m sure it would be nice if we could all be idealistic about everything, but that’s not how reality is.”
“It’s unfair to ask you to hide.”
“You’re not asking me to hide. We’re discussing this together and making a decision where we’ll get the best possible outcome. I want you to play in the NHL. If making it happen means we’ll skimp on PDAs for now, then that’s just how it’ll be.”
“It’s not just that, though, is it?” he asks. “It’s… I want you to have everything!”
The stupid, perfect idiot.
I carefully maneuver myself so I’m sort of straddling him, but not really because I don’t want to put any extra weight on his injured leg. He pulls me down, nevertheless. I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I have you. That is everything to me.”
He blows out a breath. He looks like he wants to accept what I’m saying, but he forces himself to keep arguing.
“Look—” he starts.
I silence him with a kiss, but he pulls away after only a few seconds.
“Can you just approach this with common sense?” he asks, clearly exasperated with me. His fingertips on my hips tighten. “I’m not really offering you anything worthwhile here. All those things people do when they’re in a relationship? We’re not going to have that. Instead, I’m throwing you some paranoia about shit like whether or not it’ll seem suspicious if we… I don’t even fucking know. Are seen out together too often. Or if somebody will start thinking it’s weird we live together. Not that I’m saying we’re… I mean, I hope. But that’s not…” He lets out a frustrated breath and tries again. “It’s just that I’m supposed to want to, aren’t I? I’m not supposed to want to keep it a secret.”
“You’re overthinking,” I say.
He eyes me for a long time. “Why are you so calm about this?” he finally asks. And then he spends a good, long moment eyeing me suspiciously.
I slide my thumbs over his eyebrows, over and over again. “Whatever,” I murmur. “My point stands. You are. And you’re making it too complicated.”
“Am I?” he challenges.
I take his face between my palms and hold his gaze with mine. “Yes. The bottom line is it’s nobody else’s business who you sleep with. It’s yours. And it’s for nobody else to dictate if or when or how you come out. That’s your choice. You get to be exactly as selfish as you want with this. Anybody has anything to say to that? Fuck them. It’s your life, and you get to be the boss and make the final call. Only you. And absolutely nobody else has the right to tell you how you should live your life. Not on my watch. Get it?”
“But—” he says.
I shake my head. “Fucking nobody,” I repeat. “Say it.”
He swallows hard and licks over his lips.
“Nobody… has the right to tell me how I should live my life.”
“Fucking nobody,” I say vehemently.
“Fucking nobody,” he repeats.
I nod.
