Page 28 of Icy Pour

“So…this was all a stupid idea then?”

Shit.

“No…I didn’t mean…not you, Johnny. I just…god, why does all this have to be so hard?” I slam my hand against the wall. “I…I don’t know…I’m not ready to be out in front of other people yet. I was having so much fun until stupid Bob had to come and ruin it.”

“I was having fun too,” he murmurs.

The sting of his words prickles my skin like I just walked into a beehive. “Johnny⁠—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts. “I know what happened was exactly what you were worried about. I…” His voice trails off, the tick of the clock on the wall counting down the seconds until he speaks again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What are you afraid of?”

I stare at the white on my tennis shoes. “I…I don’t like being made a spectacle of, that’s all.”

His feet shuffle, the silence growing thicker by the moment. “What if I was your bartender and nothing more? Would you still be embarrassed to sit by a gay man at a hockey game? Are you embarrassed to have me as your employee?”

“What?! No. God no!” I close the distance, gripping him by the shoulders. “I’m not embarrassed of you.”

He looks up at me through his long lashes. “You sure about that?”

Fuck. This is not how I thought tonight would go. “Positive. I may have my own issues, but I would never be embarrassed of you. Ever. You understand me?” I shake him, desperate for him to understand. “This is my issue, not yours. You’ve done more for me in the last few weeks than I could have ever dreamed of. Johnny, you walked into my bar and sat your ass down and changed my entire world.”

He flashes me a half smile. “Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

I step back. “It’s not a but. It’s an…it’s…shit. I’m not used to people staring or asking questions, wondering if they see right through me. I…” I swallow what I’ve been afraid of for so long. But I owe it to him, owe it to myself. “Sit down with me while I get this out?”

He’s still, his expression unreadable, before he nods. We both head toward the sofa and take a seat. I exhale as he finally removes his coat and sets it aside.

He’s not leaving. My hands shake, but his small gesture proving he’s not running gives me the courage to speak.

“I’ve always had this innate fear that I’m doing something wrong, something bad, something I’m going to get judged for. Then, as I got older, when I figured out I didn’t like girls like all the other guys did, that fear became even more real. Heavier. Crippling.”

A warm hand settles on mine, his fingers squeezing, and I’m wondering what I ever did in life to deserve such a kind soul to be here with me in this moment.

“Remember me telling you about my grandpa’s bar and him always wanting to make it a place where everyone was welcome?”

He rubs his thumb along mine. “Of course I remember.”

“That bar was…it was everything. Every day was like a new adventure with the regulars. A gal named Dot would always bring me in some sort of baked goods—she made the best lemon bars. Then there was Jason who rode a motorcycle and always gave me quarters for the jukebox. Another regular, Timothy? I can’t remember a day he wasn’t there. He’d sit on the barstool and chat with me while giving my grandpa an enormous amount of shit. He taught me how to play rummy, and sometimes when I stayed for dinner he’d stay and eat with us too. Every person that came in that place was the most amazing person I’d ever met, and they spoiled me rotten with sweets.”

“So the sweets aren’t a new thing for you.” He smirks. “Noted.”

“Yep. And I’m not stopping now,” I tease before continuing.

“A while after my dad and grandpa had that falling out, we were at the store and ran into Timothy. I was so excited to see him, I ran up to give him a hug. I told him I won a card game with my friends. He said something like ‘that’s great, kid,’ but his voice didn’t sound excited. When I stepped back, I saw the panic in his eyes looking directly at my dad…my dad who was staring him down. Even as a kid, I knew something was wrong.

“My dad glared at him and mumbled something about grandma rolling in her grave. Then he grabbed my arm and said, ‘We’re leaving,’ tugging me out of the store. I asked why he didn’t like Timothy. He told me he turned grandpa into something he wasn’t.”

My shoulders loosen as Johnny scoots closer to me, his thigh resting against mine.

“I was hurt. Devastated. And the feeling just never went away. It took me years to figure out what it meant. All the comments my dad didn’t think I heard about him being an embarrassment to the family. A tarnish on our name. The older I got, the more I started to realize who I was and how my dad would view that. And the hurt it…it turned into anger.”

“In high school, one of my buddies pressured me to ask a girl to a dance. I knew it was a bad idea, the worst idea actually, but the pressure to fit in, especially from my dad, was…intense.” I rub my hand along my jeans.

“I was mad at myself. Mad for liking guys. Mad I couldn’t be like everyone else. And when that girl kissed me at the school dance? I was mad my first kiss was with her. I’ve been mad at a lot of things for a long time. Hell, you witnessed that.”