“…and?”
“And obviously going to come onto my roommate.”
He looks annoyed at this.
“That’s dumb. Want me to talk to the GM? Get you the genuine rookie experience?”
I’m grateful for his reaction, but I’ve decided not to die on this hill.
“Honestly, I’m good. There’s an odd number of us on ELC's anyway, so it’d just be forcing some poor veteran into it. Besides, my agent thinks it’s probably a good idea.”
His confusion is clear on his face.
“Why is that?”
“Well, even if Idon’tcome onto a teammate, all it takes is one homophobe saying Idid, you know?”
He goes a little green around the edges at this.
“Yeah. That actually makes sense.”
“So I will enjoy my personal room and the absence of Matthews’ snoring.”
Around us, the guys have settled in and the team’s flight attendant is ensuring everyone is ready for takeoff. I pull my book out of my bag and find my page. After a few minutes, I realize Tremblay is still looking at me.
“…did you need something, Cap?”
“Um, just wondering what you’re reading there.” His eyes are focused on the cover of my book, where two men are embracing.
“A romance novel.”
He licks his lips, and I can see the questions floating in his mind.
“You look like you want to ask me something else.”
“No. It’s just, um…”
I lift an eyebrow at him. “You got a problem with what I’m reading, Cap?”
He blushes again. “I guess I thought romance novels were, uh, straight? And for women?”
“Well, I would say they’re for whoever wants to read them. Men, women, non-binary folks.”
His eyes go big and he looks around, as though someone is going to come yell at us for having a conversation about gender on this plane full of hockey players. Of course, none of them are even looking in our direction, too concerned with their own books, card games, and naps.
“And this one…it’s about two men?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and I almost call him out on his fear of being overheard. But in his eyes, I see something…longing? I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Yes. Queer romance has become a lot more popular lately, you can find all sorts of them. My mom throws a couple into each of her care packages.”
A wrinkle forms between his eyes.
“Your mom's, uh, cool with you being gay?”
His tone is so dubious that I'm relieved to be able to burst his bubble.
“Yup. Always has been.” I shrug and open up my book to the place where I left off.
As I start to read, he stares at me for a moment, then puts his chair back and closes his eyes. And I wonder – is he sleeping, or just escaping this conversation?
