Twelve minutes later,I'm standing in front of Ethan's door at the end of the hall. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a little extra care with my appearance – a quick rinse in the shower, the slightly-too-small UCLA hockey shirt from my freshman year that clings in all the right places.
It's worth it when Ethan opens the door and his eyes drift downward for a moment, lingering on my pecs. As if catching himself, they dart back up, that pink stealing across his cheeks again.
“Come on in.”
He too has changed, although his hoodie leaves much more to the imagination. I find myself a little disappointed to find that he has hooked his iPad up to the TV, with film from Carolina already queued up.
“I, uh, wasn't sure if the film was a cover story or not.”
He hesitates a moment before looking at me.
“To be honest, neither was I.”
I appreciate his honesty at the moment.
“Cap, this can go however you want. If you want to go over film, we can go over film. If you want a repeat of last night? Well, I wouldn't be opposed to that, either.”
He sits on the bed and stares at the ground.
“Could we...could we maybe talk for a second? About what happened?”
This is perhaps the most surprising choice of all. In the time I've known him, Tremblay has never really been atalker.
“Uh, sure.” I sit down on the second bed in the room, putting what feels like an appropriate distance between us.
I realize that we've hardly ever had the opportunity to talk without an audience. While I'm not as worried about the guys overhearing us on the plane as he is, I still wouldn't choose that venue for this conversation.
“I, uh, had a good time last night.”
Ouch. Why does this already sound like a brushoff? I raise an eyebrow at him.
“But I don't know if it's such a good idea. You know, you and me and...what happened.”
His speech is almost as circumspect here as it was on the plane, when we were surrounded by the team.
“No offense, but wasn't it your idea in the first place? That night at the club?”
His chuckle contains no real joy.
“It sure was.” He shakes his head as he stands and walks to the window. He seems to need some time, so I don't rush into the conversational gap he leaves.
“What, uh, what made you decide to come out?”
This isnotwhat I expect to hear from him. At one point it had seemed like everyone and their mother knew what happened; it’s so odd to think how much time has erased the memory.
I take a deep breath and consider my options. I could walk out, but I know that would put an end to this – both the friendship and the whatever else – for good. I could lie. But if anyone deserves the truth, it's Ethan.
“I...didn't.”
This gets his attention and he turns to look at me.
“You didn't?”
“Am I or am I not speaking to someone with an almost pathological fear of being forced out of the closet? You know it happens as well as anyone.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, running out the door really seems like my best option.
I fall back on the bed with a sigh. He keeps looking at me, that dark, serious look on his face.
