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“We’re in,” Ian says, from behind me, and I turn to see him walking over with Craig.
Harrison loops his arm over my shoulder, leading me toward the main doors of the hotel. “Sorry, man,” Harrison whispers inmy ear. “Gordon invited Craig on the bus trip here, I didn’t know he was going to bring him, too.”
“It’s no problem. I think if I can survive sharing a hotel room with the guy, I can take a minibus to an art exhibition.”
“True, but you should be able to just have fun and let loose without worrying what anyone else is going to say about it. I read that piece he did on some writers spending more time playing around, that was about you, right?”
I smile because I gave Ian that line. He was writing a story about the trick plays the pitchers have been delivering on the field and it sounded like a good opportunity for a dig at me. Subtle but also not too subtle. None of the players or the other writers have any clue that our rivalry is all for show.
“He can write whatever he wants, and always has.”
“Still, just say the word and we can go ahead and lose him in the installation.”
I smile and nod because what else can I do? I had every intention of getting lost amongst the art, but I had hoped Ian would be with me, not Harrison. I text Ian on the way there.
BRENDAN: So Harrison Roe wants to protect me from you. Jealous?
IAN: Hardly. I know you don’t like big buff guys.
BRENDAN: He’s not that big.
IAN: So you want me to be jealous? Just say that next time, and I’ll put on all the biggest jealous boyfriend acts you’ve ever seen.
Boyfriend?I read over the message again and the air around me becomes thick, and sweat prickles my skin.Are we boyfriends?
I haven’t even figured out my label, let alone a label for whatever it is we’re doing. It’s not crazy to call us boyfriends.When you think back to the relationships I’ve had with women in the past, shorter relationships even, where I was more than happy to be called a boyfriend. But none of those relationships were anything like this one, and it’s not because Ian’s a guy. It’s because I’ve never felt this level of intensity for anyone. This connected with another person, ever.
The more I stare at the word, the less the bus feels like its walls are creeping in, and I can breathe easy again. Would it be so terrible for Ian to be my boyfriend? It was great out at dinner with Carter and Lucas. We’ve settled into sharing a hotel room, too, sharing a space and a bed. It’s been amazing. But once I open that door, it’s open, and there will be no closing it again. Am I ready for that?
The minibus pulls up at Convergence Station, and I follow the others off. We grab our tickets and head inside. I’ve been to other installations, but this is off-the-charts amazing. I catch a glance at Ian, his head is tilted so far back he might fall over, and his eyes are wide, mouth agape. His childlike wonder brings warmth to my chest. Maybe I could be his boyfriend.
Harrison stays by my side from the second we leave the bus, trying to direct me to the opposite sides of the room to Ian and even ushering me through one space entirely too quickly in one of his attempts to separate us. When we reach a room filled with artificially sculptured trees with flowers and mushrooms in incredible detail, I take the opportunity to duck behind one of the larger tree sculptures while he isn’t looking.
I want to talk to Ian.
“There you are,” Ian whispers, sidling up beside me behind the tree. “I hope you’re not hiding from me.”
“I thought about it,” I chuckle.
“Why?” he asks, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I may have freaked out a little at your last message.” My lips pick up in a half smile as he pulls out his phone and immediatelyscrolls to the text he sent, but his frown only deepens. He doesn’t get why. “You used the boyfriend word.”
His eyes widen.
“Oh, I didn’t mean… I just meant that I could act the way a jealous boyfriend would. Not that I was your boyfriend. Not that I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend. I would, if you wanted that, but if you don’t, that’s cool, too. I’m enjoying what we’re doing. I don’t need it to be anything else. I’m talking too much.”
I cup his face in my hand and lean in close.
“You’re talking just the right amount,” I whisper, then bring us together in a soft kiss. His tongue brushes over my lower lip, and my mouth immediately opens for him, deepening the kiss as he presses me against the tree, and his hands find my waist.
“Oh, shit,” Harrison interrupts, and Ian pulls away. “Sorry, I didn’t. Don’t you two hate each other?” he asks, his look of shock changing in a second to one of utter confusion.
My heart is pounding, cheeks burning as I look from Ian to Harrison and back.
“We, umm, hate is such a strong word,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand.
“So it’s all been a lie. The whole rivalry is fake?” Harrison asks, and Ian nods.
