“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Let me see.” He pushed aside my flannel overshirt and hiked up my T-shirt, and when he saw the bruise on my ribs, he muttered, “Holy shit, Ryder. Did that happen during the rugby match, or did you get into a bar fight afterwards?”
“The match, and it’s not a big deal.”
“It looks painful.”
“It’s a little tender, but it could have been so much worse. I didn’t even crack any ribs.”
“Why do I feel like you left off the words ‘this time’ from the end of that sentence?”
I shrugged and admitted, “It’s happened.”
“Should I bring you an ice pack?”
“It’s just a bruise. No need to make a big deal out of it.”
Hal got up, circled the lounge chair, and sat down. Then he hiked up my shirt again and inspected that side of my body as he asked, “Do you have any other injuries I should know about?”
“No.”
He gingerly stretched out beside me, resting his head on my shoulder and his hand on my belly, which he hadn’t covered up again. “I don’t understand rugby, in the same way that I don’t understand boxing, roller derby, or any other sport that makes people put their bodies on the line like that. I’m not asking you to explain why you play it,” he quickly added. “I’m just saying.”
I wanted to try to explain it anyway. “I love rugby for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, I love being part of a team—the friendship, the camaraderie, working together toward a common goal. I also love the physicality of it. I’m not saying I enjoy getting hurt, although getting a bit beat up doesn’t bother me. I love the fact that it’s physically challenging. You go out there and give what you think is everything you’ve got. Then you dig deeper and find out you can give even more than you ever thought possible.”
“That makes sense to me, even though I’m not a jock like you.”
“Yeah?”
“That last part is kind of what it’s like when I work out. I push myself hard to look this way.” After a pause, he said, “I’m still as regimented as I was when I worked as a model. My workouts are very demanding, and I only let myself eat certain things. My friends think I’m really into health and fitness, but there’s more to it. I guess… I guess I’m afraid no one will find me worthwhile if I don’t look like this.”
“I’ll admit, I came to the bar last night because of your photo. You’re undeniably beautiful, Hal. But I didn’t stay up talking to you until dawn because of the way you look. I did that becauseyou’re a genuinely interesting person, and I love hearing what you have to say.”
I wasn’t great with words, but I flailed around and came up with, “You’re like a beautifully wrapped present. What’s on the outside might be absolutely stunning, but the best stuff is all inside.”
That was a pretty clunky and obvious analogy, but he kissed me and said, “You’re such a sweet person, Ryder. I don’t know why I keep dumping all my insecurities on you. Believe it or not, I usually keep that stuff to myself. But you really know how to make me feel better.”
We ended up with almost an hour to ourselves, which was wonderful. Then Hal had to go help his friends, and I went to see what my teammates were up to.
It turned out almost the entire team had come back to the rental house for the wedding ceremony, and they wanted to participate. Greg and Craig were the only two who’d gone off to do their own thing, and that was fine by me.
After a group vote about what to wear, we all ended up changing into our rugby uniforms—the nice, clean ones we’d saved in case we made it to the championship match. They consisted of turquoise blue jerseys and matching shorts, and we added our cowboy hats, because we loved any excuse to show off our Texas pride.
We also decided that all of us would sing as the grooms entered, and we practiced some very basic choreography—step to the left, back to the center, step to the right. We weren’t the most graceful guys on the planet, so getting us moving in unison took some effort.
Vee checked in with us at one point and recruited a few of his new friends to take pictures and film a video during the ceremony. It obviously made sense to document it, so the grooms could show Bryson’s family later.
I didn’t see Hal as we gathered in the backyard. Maybe he was in the pool house, where Embry had gone to make his entrance. I lined up with the team beside the gazebo, where the wedding officiant was waiting. She was around fifty, with auburn hair and a friendly smile, and she greeted me warmly when I said, “Howdy, ma’am.”
Then, as the sun started to set, Tank got a text from Vee and told us, “It’s time, boys. Don’t fuck this up.”
We started singing the only song all of us knew the words to, “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith. It had somehow become our karaoke go-to over the last couple of years, but no one remembered why we’d latched onto it in the first place.
A few seconds into the song, the side gate opened and Bryson appeared. He looked nervous as he paused to take in what was happening. Then he started to walk toward the gazebo. As soon as Embry stepped out of the pool house, Bryson’s face lit up in a smile, and the two men hurried toward each other.
Hal slipped through the gate a moment later. Once again, he was dressed head to toe in black. Apparently that was a thing with him. He wore long pants that rode a little low on his hips, and a halter top that left his arms, back, and shoulders totally exposed. I muttered, “Damn,” under my breath.
He was so sexy that I instantly forgot the lyrics to the song I was supposed to be singing. When he spotted me, he grinned and gave me a little wave, and then he and Vee joined the grooms.
