Chapter 35
Sasha’s small, secret flame of hope that they might get to leave the beach after lunch is snuffed out once Danny’s friends start complaining about their jobs.
First it’s Patty, whose coworker keeps hogging the best conference rooms; next it’s Jess, annoyed at the number of exclamation points in her boss’s emails.
Then someone utters the phrase “fish in the microwave,” and all hell breaks loose.
The whole time, Danny’s leaning forward in his chair, soaking up his friends’ stories and asking questions like “Wait, sorry, what’s an ROI?” He doesn’t really seem to understand the answers—neither does Sasha—but he nods along anyway, like he’s determined to fit in.
The conversation becomes downright tedious once it’s taken over by Scott (or maybe it’s PJ, Sasha still hasn’t figured out which of them is which), droning on and on about a client and a deadline, or something, Sasha stops paying attention halfway through.
But Danny hangs on to Scott or BJ’s every word, wincing in sympathy.
“That sucks, bro. Could you, like, talk to your boss and ask for an extension?”
Scott or whoever looks at Danny like he’d suggested tap-dancing on the boss’s desk. “We’re not in school, dude, it doesn’t work like that anymore. I can’t just leave a client hanging.”
“Oh.” Danny blushes, and Sasha can tell he didn’t miss the condescension in his friend’s reply. “Right, yeah, that makes sense. I guess—I wouldn’t know.”
“Yeah, must be nice working out all day.”
Sasha’s not sure what’s worse: hearing that bullshit or watching Danny take it, forcing a laugh when it’s obvious that he’s hurt.
No—what’s worse is sitting there, powerless to defend Danny, because he’s too furious to think of a translation for Go fuck yourself, you asshole, you wouldn’t even last an hour in the gym.
And then Patty snaps, “CJ, what the fuck.”
Silence falls over the group as CJ bristles. “What? I’m just saying—like, no offense, but he doesn’t have a job. The rest of us are—”
“He does have a fucking job, dude, he’s training for the Olympics.” Patty stares CJ down, hackles raised like a guard dog. “And he’s coaching, so that’s actually two jobs.”
“It’s okay,” Danny says, right as CJ rolls his eyes and mutters, “That’s not the same thing.”
“What are you, the job police? Fuck off, dude. Just because your job sucks, doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to Danny about his.”
“Yeah, seriously, not cool,” Jess jumps in.
CJ glances around, reddening as he realizes no one is on his side, and mumbles a half-hearted “Sorry, man” at Danny.
“It’s okay,” Danny says again—too quickly, in Sasha’s opinion. CJ could have squirmed a bit longer. “But what’s going on at work? I thought you were doing really good, didn’t you just close a big deal?”
The genuine concern in Danny’s voice seems to shame CJ in a way that Patty and Jess hadn’t quite succeeded. He stammers something about his boss, barely able to look Danny in the eye, but Sasha doesn’t bother listening to the sob story. He doesn’t give a shit about anything CJ has to say anymore.
Instead, he finds himself glancing over at Patty, regretting how little he’d thought of him earlier.
Patty might be loud and obnoxious, but he’d stood up for Danny when Sasha couldn’t, even though it meant confronting a friend.
Not everyone would have done that—and Sasha feels a fresh spurt of shame as he remembers all the times he’s turned the other cheek when Kirill complains about Danny.
He should be trying harder with Patty. In fact, he should be trying harder with all of Danny’s friends.
Except CJ, though. Fuck CJ.
*
Okay, so maybe Operation: Sasha Meets My Friends hadn’t gotten off to the best start.
Danny had known it would be a lot, introducing Sasha to everyone all at once—which is why he’d really wanted to have a guys’ night first, so Sasha would at least have a chance to get to know Patty, Scotty, and CJ before today.
But their plans had fallen through, and it hadn’t seemed like a big enough deal to push back the beach hang.
In hindsight, that was probably the wrong call.
Because Sasha had tried, Danny could tell—but he’d looked overwhelmed almost all morning, speaking less and less until he’d finally stopped altogether.
Danny’s pretty sure he’d only gone to the bathroom to get away from everyone, and also pretty sure he was just pretending to be asleep for most of that weirdly long nap he took afterwards.
At least now, though, it seems like they’re finally gaining some ground.
Sasha looks a lot more relaxed, talking to Patty…
well, listening to Patty and occasionally saying “Yes” or “Wow,” but still.
Danny doesn’t know what changed—maybe he’d needed more time to loosen up, or hell, maybe he’d just needed to eat lunch—yet he’s grateful that Sasha’s making an effort, despite being so clearly out of his comfort zone.
“Hey, Danny, can I borrow you for a sec?” Emily asks. She’s standing up, slinging her bag over her shoulders like she’s ready to go somewhere.
“Sure, what’s up?”
Emily winks at him. “I need a nice, strong man to help me carry some Balboa bars.”
Danny laughs—Emily could probably fit about twenty of Newport Beach’s famous ice cream treats in her bag, there’s no way she actually needs his help.
But he’s also getting the vibe that she wants to talk about something, so he leans over to tell Sasha and Patty where they’re going, letting Sasha know he’ll be back and promising Patty that yes, he’ll buy him the one with the Oreos.
Emily waits until he’s finished reminding Sasha to put on more sunscreen, and then they leave the group behind, strolling down the sand towards the bakery by the Newport Pier. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Emily says, “Hey, are you okay? After what CJ said earlier?”
Her grey eyes are watching him with concern, and Danny’s both surprised and touched that she’d asked. “Oh, yeah, no, it’s fine. I think he’s just, like, stressed about work.”
“Yeah, his boss sounds pretty awful. But still, he shouldn’t have said any of that to you.”
CJ’s comments had stung, though at least he’d apologized; Danny’s trying to leave it at that. “Thanks, Em.”
Emily bumps her elbow against his bicep, and Danny can’t help smiling at the height difference between them, the former volleyball player versus the gymnast. He used to joke that they were the Olympic champions of getting things off of high shelves, because if Emily wasn’t around to grab it, Danny would just start climbing.
“So, uh, Sasha seems nice.”
“Yeah?” Danny perks up, a broad grin on his face. “You think so?”
Emily nods. “He’s quiet, but… I feel like there’s more, once you get to know him.”
“Oh yeah,” Danny agrees, eager for any excuse to talk about Sasha. “I had to try for like—I don’t even know, a year? Just to be friends with him. But it was totally worth it. He’s, like, secretly so sassy…”
Emily lets him talk about how awesome Sasha is the rest of the way to the bakery, where he pauses so they can order the Balboa bars and stack them up in Emily’s bag (which turns out to be a cooler, because Emily’s a genius).
“So, I might be overstepping here,” Emily begins when they’re back on the beach, “but I just wanted to say… if something’s going on between you and Sasha, like, romantically? I one hundred percent support it, and I’m really happy for you.”
It’s like walking into a wall, and Danny actually stops right there on the sand, his face as hot as his bare feet. “Oh,” he replies, stupidly, because all he can think is fuck, fuck, and FUCK. “Um—”
“I’m not going to say anything,” Emily promises, hands up. “And also… I could be completely wrong, and you can tell me that, and we don’t have to talk about it again.”
Fuck.
She knows.
Danny’s not even worried about that part—out of all his friends, Emily’s the one he would trust the most not to spread the news around, for obvious reasons—but he’d promised Sasha, and fuck.
Sasha’s going to be furious, and freaked out, and it’s Danny’s fault and fuck fuck fuck he has to do some damage control right now—
Okay, okay. Fuck. You can do this. He’s going to deny it, obviously, but first he’ll stay cool, act casual, and ask Emily why she thinks he and Sasha are together. Then he’ll know what gave them away, and he can just stop doing it.
Simple. Easy. Straightforward.
“How did you—”
Oh, fuck.
That wasn’t how he’d meant to start that sentence at all.
“Danny, it’s okay,” Emily promises quickly—he must have had every one of those fucks flashing across his face. “I only noticed it when you were waking him up earlier. It was like, the way you were touching him, and he was smiling at you… I kind of got a vibe.”
Danny’s starting to sweat. He hadn’t thought twice about nudging Sasha awake—was it really that obvious? Patty had been standing right next to him…
Well, fuck it, there’s no point in pretending anymore.
But his hands still shake as he asks, “Do you think anyone else noticed?”
Emily takes the question in stride, though he can see her eyes widen, just a little, at his confirmation. “Uh, no,” she answers with a snort. “Straight until proven queer with this group. You’re good.”
Danny’s so relieved, it takes him a few seconds to wonder if there was something underneath the surface of Emily’s comment, if she’s ever felt more isolated than she’s let on. But before he can follow that thought, she asks, “How long have you guys been…?”
“Like, officially? Almost two years.”
“Two years? Jesus, Danny, that’s—have you told anyone? Do your parents know?”
“My buddy Matt does. And I actually told Allie I was seeing a guy when I saw her last year, but I didn’t tell her who.
And… yeah, that’s it.” Danny swallows as it sinks in: two whole years of his life—almost three, if he goes back to Nanning—and he can count on one hand the number of people who have any idea how much Sasha means to him.
“I really want to tell my parents, but I can’t, cause Sasha… ”
There’s a lump in his throat, and it hurts too much to speak.
“Oh, Danny, that’s so hard. I’m sorry.” Emily squeezes his shoulder, then holds out her arms. “You look like you could use a hug.”
“Yeah. Fuck. Thanks.”
After they pull apart, Emily smiles. “Okay, I gotta say, I kind of called this in high school.”
“What?” Danny’s shocked out of his sadness. “How? I didn’t even know I was bi in high school.”
“Well, remember when I came over your house to work on that ‘physics in gymnastics’ project?”
Despite himself, Danny grins. “Oh, yeah. You did the physics, I did the gymnastics. That was great.”
“Yeah, and you had all those posters of that guy, I forget his name? He was your favorite gymnast—”
“Oh my God.” Someone could absolutely grill a burger on Danny’s face right now. “Blaine Wilson.”
“And I was still pretending to be straight back then”—Emily rolls her eyes—“so I made this comment, like, ‘Oh, he’s so hot,’ and you were like, ‘Yeah, he is.’ And then you got this really weird look on your face and you were like, ‘I mean, if you’re into dudes, I guess.’”
“Stop,” Danny groans. “I don’t even remember that!” He has a fuzzy image of the two of them sprawled on his bedroom floor, but nothing else—he must have filed the entire conversation into an “embarrassing moments” folder and right-click deleted that shit.
“And of course I’m like, ‘Oh, yeah, definitely into dudes over here’…”
They crack up, and after Danny catches his breath, he says, “Wow, we were so awkward back then.”
“Hey, that’s high school, right? We got there eventually.”
Danny’s not so sure about that. Emily got there—she left the closet years ago, and now she’s openly dating Vic—but Danny’s still stuck somewhere between the hangers, seeing the light under the door yet never able to get any closer.
Because no matter how much he wants to be out, Sasha’s folded himself into a storage box all the way at the very back, and Danny can’t leave without him.
“Em?” he asks when they start walking again. “Did you ever date someone who wasn’t out yet?”
“Yeah. In college.”
Something in Emily’s voice makes Danny think he’s going to regret his next question. “So… does it get any easier?”
Emily hesitates, like she’s trying to figure out how not to say no. “Maybe for some people? But… it didn’t work out for us.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Well, that was the thing. Like, obviously she didn’t want to come out to her family, which was fine, I get it—but she didn’t even want me to tell my family, or any of my friends, because she was so paranoid that her parents were going to find out.
So I had no one to talk to, which was really hard.
I just felt completely isolated from everyone I cared about. ”
The more Emily says, the worse Danny feels, because he already knows this story. He’s living it.
“But hey, that was me,” Emily adds, seeing his expression. “And your guys’ situation is a lot more complicated. I mean, you’re like… gymnastics famous, and I don’t know about Sasha, but I wouldn’t come out if I lived in Russia.”
Danny sighs. “Yeah, that’s basically where we’re at.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
“Please. Anything.”
“Just… make sure it’s worth it, okay?” Emily says gently. “I can tell you really care about him, and that might be enough, but… maybe it won’t be, after a while. And you need to think about your mental health, too. No matter how much you want to be with him.”
It’s not the advice Danny was hoping to hear. In fact, it’s pretty much the exact opposite. He’s not breaking up with Sasha—they just need to figure out a way to make it work. A way for Sasha to feel safe without Danny feeling like he’s suffocating. There has to be a middle ground, doesn’t there?
Emily gives him a small, crooked smile, like she can tell what he’s thinking. “You’ll figure it out,” she says, which at least sounds a little more encouraging. “I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay? About Sasha or anything queer, honestly. I’m so glad I’m not the only one in the group anymore.”
And Danny finds himself smiling back at her, because she’s right—it’s nice, knowing you’re not alone. “Me too. Thanks, Em.”
“Anytime.”