Chapter 19 #2
After everyone finished groaning, Harley pivoted. “And on that disturbing note, how was everyone else’s break?”
Fenway took a cookie. “Mine was the traditional festival of denial, where my parents gifted me Red Sox tickets for a pilgrimage to my namesake park. When I reminded them I’d rather watch paint dry than baseball, my dad said, ‘But these are good seats, son.’ As if my problem all along was just the viewing angle. ”
“Let me guess, he threw in another jersey to sweeten the deal?” Gage asked.
Fenway shook his head. “Nope, he switched it up with a snow globe for some inexplicable reason. At this point, I’m convinced they believe if they hurl enough baseball merchandise at me, I’ll suddenly wake up one day understanding what a ground rule double is.”
“They’re still disappointed you’re refusing to live up to your name?” Harley asked with a grin.
Fenway munched on his cookie. “Naturally. I’m pretty sure they have a shrine to David Ortiz in the basement, where they pray nightly for their son to develop an interest in America’s favorite pastime.”
I tried to find a bright side. “At least they’re consistent.”
“Consistent like a trauma response,” Fenway snorted.
“My dad spent two hours trying to explain the infield fly rule to me. I pretended I thought baseball was played with a shuttlecock just to watch his eye twitch. Pretty sure he’s still having heart palpitations from me asking if Tom Brady was a good pitcher. ”
“It’s a miracle your father lived to tell the tale,” Bryce joked.
Fenway dusted the cookie crumbs off his hands.
“I’ve donated so much Red Sox stuff to our local thrift store that they have a whole section for all my family’s denial merchandise.
The employees probably suspect I’m running some kind of underground baseball memorabilia laundering operation.
But the owner’s a die-hard fan, so he gives me a free pass because he loves getting first dibs on the goods. ”
“You really should be selling that shit and making money,” Gage pointed out.
Fenway waved it away. “That’s too much hassle. Plus, it’d mean dealing with more Red Sox fans. I’d rather French-kiss a running wood chipper, thanks.”
As the laughter died down, Bryce made a grand pronouncement with a wicked grin. “Well, my break was quite enlightening. I spent it with a visiting professor from an Ivy League who taught me things that definitely aren’t on the syllabus.”
“You’re going to get someone fired one of these days,” Gage predicted.
“Only if they’re not discreet,” Bryce countered. “And trust me, Professor Hottie McFuckMe can keep a secret.”
“What about you two?” Senna asked, glancing between Harley and me. “How did things go at home?”
It was the perfect opening. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Harley saved me from my sudden speechlessness. “It was entertaining. Ryker’s mom tried to set him up with a woman who claimed they were soul mates reincarnated through hundreds of lifetimes.”
Fenway laughed. “For real?”
“Oh, yeah.” Harley enjoyed the story far too much for my comfort. “According to her, they’ve been everything from Mongolian yak herders to French Revolution executioners.”
“That’s wild,” Gage said, shaking his head. “Your mom really knows how to pick ’em.”
“The best part was when Maylin got furious and stormed out to her backup date waiting in the car. That guy was as batshit bonkers as her with the reincarnation obsession, but also a cosplaying sex god. Look at this guy.” Harley pulled out his phone, eager to show off Baxter’s social media photos.
Jagger gave an impressed whistle. “Holy shit, this guy is ridiculously hot. And talented.” He tilted the phone toward Bryce. “Check him out as a Baroque-era nobleman.”
Bryce’s voice dropped to an appreciative murmur.
“The brocade jacket is open just enough to show off those perfect abs I’d like to lick.
The way the fabric catches the light accentuates every curve and contour.
He must be loaded to afford that kind of baroque noble finery.
I’d expect to see that level of quality strutting down a Paris couture runway. ”
Jagger nodded in agreement. “Damn, I’d climb him like a tree and wouldn’t come down until next Tuesday.
” He scrolled to another photo. “And look at this one from some beach in Fiji. All that sun-kissed skin on display. The things I’d do to that man would make Fenway run out of the room to preserve his straight sanity. ”
As everyone laughed, Senna reached across the coffee table.
“Let me see,” she insisted, making grabby hands.
When Bryce relinquished the phone, she let out a low whistle as she flipped through more photos.
“Damn. That medieval alchemist getup is incredible. Talk about dedication to the aesthetic. Wow.”
“This guy was waiting in the car for Maylin during your date?” Fenway asked, peering over Senna’s shoulder. “And he believes you were all reincarnated together?”
“Yep,” Harley confirmed with a cheeky grin. “That’s Baxter. According to Maylin, they’ve been on a centuries-long quest for their third.”
“Their third?” Gage asked, accepting the phone from Senna. “Like a throuple situation?”
“Exactly,” I said, still feeling awkward about the whole thing. “Maylin was convinced I was their missing piece.”
“Damn, he was barking up the wrong tree, then,” Gage said with a laugh.
Jagger pulled out his phone. “I’m following him immediately. What’s his handle?”
“@PastLifePlayboy,” Harley replied. “One word.”
“Ugh, so cringy,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t be jealous,” Harley teased, giving my knee a playful squeeze. “He might be pretty, but you’re cuter.”
“I’m not jealous,” I protested, though I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something uncomfortable watching our friends fawn over Baxter’s photos.
“I’m sorry, but this is too much,” Senna declared, already typing on her phone. “I need to follow him right now. For research purposes.”
“Research?” I questioned with a skeptical eyebrow arch.
“Yes, research on his historical accuracy. And his abs. Mostly the abs.”
“His latest post is from yesterday,” Bryce said, still scrolling through Baxter’s feed on his own phone.
“He just announced he’s launching a travelogue channel where he’ll post long videos of his historical site visits dressed as his past lives, explaining the historical context, and how he makes his cosplay. ”
“I’m subscribing immediately,” Jagger declared. “Do you think he does private photo shoots? I’d shell out some serious cash to see him as a Spartan warrior.”
“Please do it for me,” Bryce pleaded, clasping his hands together in exaggerated prayer.
“Down, boy,” Gage said. “Though I must admit, the historical accuracy is impressive. There’s one where he’s a Silk Road merchant with actual antique trading goods.”
“He’s got serious dedication,” Harley agreed. “Look at this one, where he’s a Mongolian horse archer. There’s a video of him showing off traditional archery techniques. That’s real dedication.”
“I’m definitely following him,” Bryce declared. “For the costume inspiration, obviously, and because he’s the hottest thing I’ve seen since looking in the mirror this morning.”
Everyone laughed at that, and I couldn’t help but join in despite my lingering discomfort.
“Wait,” Fenway interjected, glancing up from his phone. “This guy and Maylin actually believe they’ve been together across all these past lives?”
“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “They’ve crafted elaborate backstories for each one, which you can see on his posts.”
Senna’s eyes lit up. “Are they set on you for a third? Or do they have a recruitment process I should know about?”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned.
She batted her eyelashes. “What? I’m simply curious about their selection criteria.”
“Well, according to Maylin, they know their third when they see them,” Harley explained. “They recognize the soul’s energy or some equally mystical bullshit.”
“That’s actually kind of romantic,” Gage admitted. “In a completely nonsensical way.”
Jagger’s grin turned devilish. “I’d pretend to believe in past lives for a shot at being with him.”
“Too late. I’m already sliding into his DMs,” Bryce announced, rapidly typing on his screen.
“You guys are ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head.
“Says the guy who was supposedly their soul mate for centuries,” Senna teased. “Too bad you’re straight and had to turn him down.”
Harley smirked. “That’s not the only reason Ryker was unavailable for their cosmic threesome.”
“Wait, not available?” Jagger perked up with interest. “Did you meet someone, Ryker? Please tell me it wasn’t another boring straight girl who thinks missionary is an adventurous kink.”
All eyes shifted to me, making my cheeks flush from the pressure. Now was the moment. All I had to do was spit it out. Rip off the band-aid.
“Actually, I, uh, Harley and I are—we’re…” I started, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat. “We’re together. As in, he’s my boyfriend.”
The chatter died so fast it left ringing in my ears.
Fenway’s beer bottle froze halfway to his lips.
Senna’s eyebrows shot into her hairline, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face.
Bryce’s jaw dropped, his perfectly glossed mouth forming a perfect O of theatrical shock, while Jagger looked smug, crossing his arms like he’d been waiting for the moment his entire life.
Gage seemed amused by the sudden turn of events.
Fenway was the first to break the silence. “Wait, for real? This isn’t some elaborate prank like the time you pretended to like kale?”
Harley came to stand next to me, looking smugger than a cat who just caught the red dot. “Nope, one hundred percent real.”
“So much for all your years of aggressively insisting you’re straight,” Jagger joked.
I winced at the memory. “Yeah, turns out I might have been protesting a bit too much.”