It’s past lunchtime by the time we leave the beach, and after stopping at one of the public changing rooms to clean up, we head into Provincetown proper for something to eat. Seth parks a couple blocks away from the restaurant, and we walk up Commercial Street, peeking into shop windows as we go. Provincetown isknown for being a queer haven, and there are Pride flags in every direction, of every stripe and color, couples of all sorts and all ages walking hand in hand. I’ve never been in a place like this before, and it stirs something in me, some feeling ofbelongingthat I’ve been missing, that maybe I should have been seeking all along.
Bree and Seth are walking ahead of us, swinging their joined hands between them. But Cole is uncharacteristically quiet, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, almost three feet of space between us as we stroll along. He seems to be completely lost in thought, but I try to bring him back to the present.
“Does anybody actually know what all the different Pride flags mean?” I ask, keeping my voice just quiet enough to be out of earshot of the other two. “Like, I thought I knew a bunch, but I’ve never seenthatone before —”
I point to a flag with seven stripes ranging from dark brown to white to black.
Cole stares at it for a second, then snaps his fingers. “Bears,” he says, and winks at me. “You know, that one could be yours if you ever decide to grow a beard.”
“Hey!” I exclaim, but I’m laughing. I bump him with my shoulder, and he doesn’t pull away.
The restaurant reminds me so much of the Rusty Harpoon that I almost feel like I’m back at home. Wetake a table by the window, looking out over the water, and as we’re looking over our menus, a man passes our table. He has close-cropped dark hair and dark eyes, and he clearly spends a lot of time at the gym, his impressive arms and muscular chest shown off by his gray tank top. He locks eyes with Cole and slows, keeping Cole’s gaze as he walks by. When he’s gone, Cole blushes, looking out the window.
Bree leans forward conspiratorially. “Think that guy just cruised you —”
“Yeah, he did,” Cole snaps. He pulls his menu close, his eyes on the words.
“He’s hot! If you want to go chat him up, we could definitely —”
“I don’t.”
I try to catch his eye, but he won’t look at me, and there’s a muscle twitching in his jaw. I feel oddly warm, but I know he doesn’t belong to me. People are going to look at him and there isn’t anything I can do about that.
He seems normal again when the waiter comes back to take our orders, and by the time we’re halfway through lunch, he’s laughing and joking along with the rest of us. That’s when Seth opens his mouth and drops a bomb on me.
“Hey, Ezra, can I ask you something?”
I stop with a french fry halfway to my mouth, and lay it back down on my plate. “Sure, what’s up?”
Seth clears his throat. “So, I know you have a jobyou’re good at in New York, and I get that. But something’s come up with the company, and I actually feel like you’d be a really good person to help us. You knowAssassin’s Creed?”
“Yeah? I’ve played it a bit.”
“Well, a few of us in management have been talking, and we really want to get into making RPGs that are set in the past. Something likeAssassin’s CreedorKingdom Comeor even something likeBioShock Infinite. But none of us are historians and we don’t really know where to start. So I guess I was wondering if you would — you know, help us. For pay. Work with us, I mean.”
I pause, weighing what Seth just said. Then I glance over at Cole. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Cole raises both hands in surrender, his blue eyes wide. “Nope, this is the first I’m hearing about it.”
“Okay.” I turn back to Seth. “Did you mean — full time? Or consulting? I’m about a week away from starting a new semester and I don’t think I can drop everything and give up on my teaching commitments right away.”
“Sure, I mean — we could work with you.” Seth looks at Bree. “We have the wedding coming up, and that’s keeping us busy, so we probably don’t need to launch a new project in the next month. But we could start with a meeting, if you’re interested.”
“Would you want me to move to Boston?”
Seth shrugs. “That would be great? But you alreadylive in a city with some of the best research libraries in the world. I think this could be remote, except maybe a meeting every few months.”
I stare down at my plate, and I know everyone’s eyes are on me. Paper placemat with a ring from the condensation on my water cup, my plate a mess of french fries and crumbs. The clink of glassware, the low din of other patrons’ conversations. Someone at the next table laughs. I think of my students, of dingy basement classrooms, of dry erase markers and the stale breeze from the fan of the projector. I think of the ache between my shoulders as I sit at my computer for hours on end. I think of job applications and electric bills, of trying to keep the shower curtain from touching my skin as I turn in the tiny space.
And then I feel Cole’s knee against mine, warm under the table. And I raise my head.
“Um, can I think about it? It’s just — it’s a lot. I wasn’t expecting this at all.”
Seth grins, and Bree laces her fingers through his. “That’s all I ask,” he says. “If you decide you want to do it, I’d love to work with you.”
The conversation moves on. But Cole’s knee is still pressed against mine, and somehow it feels right, knowing he’s there.
***
