Chapter 14
Fourteen
Alex was well-aware that he’d confused the hell out of Mitch.
It hadn’t been on purpose, and truth was, he wasn’t even sure how he’d done it.
But Mitch kept shooting him confused looks when he thought Alex wasn’t paying attention, his eyes all squinty, eyebrows squished together, teeth biting into his bottom lip.
As much as Alex wanted to suck that bottom lip into his mouth, he hesitated.
They lived so far away from each other, him in Tampa for most of the year and Mitch in Vermont, that it didn’t make any sense to start a relationship.
Yet, at the same time, Alex had made a sort of unspoken promise to Mitch months ago, a promise that he’d tell Mitch if he ever developed feelings for him.
Well, the feelings were there, all right. They’d been slowly developing since they met. So damn slowly that Alex hadn’t become aware that he had actual romantic feelings for Mitch until his conversation with Yager last month, when he’d realized he wanted to kiss Mitch.
Alex didn’t usually want to kiss people he didn’t have feelings for.
Ergo, he must have feelings for Mitch. Feelings that were confirmed when Alex had opened the door to Mitch’s unsure yet relieved smile that had made Alex hurt for him.
He’d had to resist the need to pull Mitch close and promise him that every Christmas from now on would be amazing because Mitch would be spending them all with Alex and his mom, who’d spoil him rotten.
Now, two days after Mitch’s arrival, Alex wanted.
He didn’t want sex with Mitch, not really.
Not yet. But he wanted to kiss Mitch’s lips, to trace his eyebrows, run his thumbs over Mitch’s cheekbones, caress his skin, lave his nipples, bury his face in Mitch’s neck and inhale his scent, his taste.
He wanted to hold Mitch in his arms and dance with him, sleep curled around him, hold his hand, cuddle with him, spend hours talking to him late into the night, play hockey with him.
Alex often had to stop himself from putting his arm around Mitch’s shoulders, or placing a palm at Mitch’s lower back, or reaching out to trace Mitch’s fingers just to feel his skin.
His experience with relationships was so limited that Alex didn’t know how to initiate anything beyond a friendly pat on the back. Hence the hesitation. And he could tell Mitch was getting antsy.
They spent Mitch’s first day wandering the shops along Lakeshore Road in downtown Oakville.
Mitch slept in late, which gave them a late start to the day, so they pushed Kensington Market to the next day.
Alex could walk from one end of downtown Oakville to the other in under twenty minutes.
It took four hours with Mitch, because Mitch wanted to see everything and go into every store.
His giddiness was fucking adorable, especially with cheeks rosy from the cold and the ends of his curly hair escaping from underneath his toque.
“Can we go in here?” Mitch asked for the sixtieth time. Here was a popular bakery that sold everything from cookies to breads and always had something to sample.
Inside, it smelled like yeasty dough and sugar. The entranceway was postage stamp-sized and, as always, it was packed. Alex used his larger size to bully his way to the front, snagged two samples of a cinnamon roll on a toothpick, and made his way back to Mitch.
“Here.” He handed Mitch the bigger piece. “If you like these, I’ll pick some up for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Oh my God.” Mitch’s eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh my God. So good.” He snatched Alex’s piece out of his hand while Alex was distracted by Mitch’s moan.
“Hey!”
Mitch sent him a cheeky grin and popped the cinnamon roll into his mouth. “I want to see what else they have.” They made their way to the front, where Mitch crouched down to peer through the window display. “What’s that?”
“Scones.” Alex crouched next to him. “You won’t like those, though. They have raisins.” Mitch made a face. He did not like mushy raisins. “How about this one? Apple cinnamon.”
“Ooh, yeah.”
The man was easily pleased.
“Tell me something,” Mitch said once Alex had purchased their scones and cinnamon rolls and they were back out on the street.
“I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that you’re from a small town.
But when I Googled Oakville before I left yesterday, the website said it has a population of almost two hundred thousand. That’s not small.”
“No, it’s definitely not small.” Alex moved out of the way of a lady and her enormous dog. “I don’t know, maybe it’s considered a small town compared to Toronto?”
“Which has what, two million people?”
“You say ‘two million’ like it’s a small number.”
Mitch glanced at him. “It’s small compared to New York City, which is where I was born.”
“Right. Where there’s probably two million people within a city block.”
“It’s not that bad.”
The burger place they were having dinner at with Alex’s mom was predictably busy, but they were early enough to beat the dinner rush, and were seated almost instantly. The restaurant was all exposed beams and rustic tables, antlers on the wall and old black-and-white photos of cottage country.
“Can I get you drinks while you wait?” the hostess asked as she placed cutlery rolled into a napkin on the table.
“Two butterscotch milkshakes, please,” Alex said.
“Two what?” Mitch looked up from the menu.
“Trust me, you’ll like it.”
Mitch eyed his milkshake dubiously when it arrived, stirring the thick drink with his straw. “Butterscotch, you said?”
“Uh-huh.”
He took a tentative sip and his eyes popped wide. A couple of heftier sips later, he raised his hands in the air and bent as far as he could over the table. “I bow to you, O Wise One Who Has All Earthly Knowledge of the Good Foods.”
Alex laughed and couldn’t help being charmed.
Mitch went back to perusing the menu and had finished a third of his milkshake by the time he’d decided on what to order. “There’s your mom.” He gestured toward the glass window that acted as the restaurant’s street-facing wall.
Bundled against the cold, his mom was jaywalking across the street, heading towards them.
Mitch leaned closer. “She knows I don’t mind if she hangs out with us, right?” He kept his voice low, as if she could hear him from outside.
“She knows. I think she just wanted to give us the day. Besides, she lives down the street, so she’s been to these shops a million times.”
Mitch’s mouth twisted. “Still, I feel bad. I know you guys are close and I don’t want you to take time away from her to hang out with me.”
Alex shrugged. “We are close. But we keep in touch while I’m in Tampa and I’m still here for another week, so it’s not like we won’t see each other. Besides, you and I are close too, aren’t we?”
He’d clearly shocked the shit out of Mitch. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“Hi, boys.” His mom slid into the booth next to Alex and pointed at Alex’s milkshake. “Did you get me one?”
“Not yet,” Alex said. “Didn’t know how long you’d be.”
Mitch paid no attention to them and sucked down his milkshake like a champ. When he noticed Alex watching him, he let the straw pop out of his mouth, licked his lips, and said, “I’m gonna move in with your mom so I can have these every day, m’kay?”
Alex’s heart somersaulted and fell at Mitch’s feet, right there in a crowded burger joint that smelled like deep fried onion rings.
The server came by to take their orders, and once she left, Alex’s mom dug something out of her purse.
“Look what I found.” She placed two pairs of mittens, both black, on the table.
“They’re made with alpaca wool. It’s supposed to be warmer than sheep’s wool.
Feel how soft they are?” She ran one mitten over Alex’s cheek.
Alex sighed and took it as, across from him, Mitch pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.
“Here, I got you each a pair.” She handed a set to Alex, and one to Mitch.
Mitch’s spine went ramrod straight. “These… These are for me?” He picked up the mittens tentatively, and ran a reverent hand over them. “That’s… You didn’t have to do that.”
Alex’s mom waved a hand. “Try them on. Do they fit?”
Mitch was quick to comply. Alex followed more slowly, keeping half an eye on Mitch. Mitch grinned ear to ear and, once he had the mittens on, rubbed his hands together gleefully. “These are great! Thank you.”
Alex’s mom beamed. “You’re welcome.”
Mitch removed his new mittens and carefully tucked them into the front pocket of his ever-present backpack.
Their meals arrived, and Alex’s mouth watered just looking at it.
Mitch’s mouth dropped open and he stared in dismay at the burger on his plate. “What the… I can’t eat all this. It’s as big as my face!”
“I finish mine all the time,” Alex’s mom said. “If I can finish, you can finish.”
“Yeah.” Alex sprinkled salt on his French fries. “But he’s used to a diet of smoothies and Cheese Whiz-covered celery sticks.”
“Oh, Mitch.” His mom patted Mitch’s hand. “That’s not healthy, especially not for an athlete like you. You need nutrients.”
Feeling vindicated—Alex had said something similar to Mitch at least five times—Alex sent Mitch a grin. See? Told ya.
Mitch sat back in his seat and smirked at Alex like, You’re not the boss of me. It was oddly endearing.
The next day found all three of them at Kensington Market mid-morning. Alex hid behind a toque and sunglasses, hoping not to be recognized. He almost never was in Tampa, but hockey in the south had a different life force than hockey in Canada.
Ahead of him, his mom and Mitch chatted about something.
Had Mitch met Alex’s mom three months ago when his walls were still up with Alex, he would’ve been moody and tight-lipped and conversed only as much as necessary.
Now, he was animated and happy and he spoke with enthusiasm.
He also kept sneaking glances back at Alex, ostensibly to make sure Alex was still there.
As if Alex was going anywhere.
Kensington Market was much more vibrant in the summer, when it turned into a partial outdoor market.
In the winter, vendors didn’t hawk their wares in the cold, and there were no artists painting on the sidewalk.
But it wasn’t Toronto’s most unique neighborhood for nothing.
Despite the cold and lack of crowds, the vintage clothing shops and eclectic mix of restaurants, cafés, grocers, and bakeries were still covered in cheerful graffiti and colorful awnings.
The narrow streets and alleys were lined with bright-colored Victorian homes in every shade of the rainbow, and sidewalk signs advertised everything from sales on T-shirts to drop-in sewing workshops to two-for-one Jamaican patties.
And when it started to snow lightly, fresh powder dusting awnings and rooftops and railings, it added an extra dose of charm to the neighborhood.
Inside one of the clothing stores, Mitch found a T-shirt with “What I love most about yoga is the nap at the end” written across the front.
“I need to get this for Cody.” Then he found a pair of pink sweatpants with “Yoga” written in white script across the butt. “Toni, look. I’m going to get these for you. What size are you?”
The narrow-eyed glare Alex’s mom sent Mitch was unimpressed. “Legging.”
Mitch cracked up. In fact, he was still laughing after he’d paid and they’d left the shop.
“I need to find something for Alex,” Mitch said to Alex’s mom.
“What? Why? I don’t need anything.”
“Let’s try here,” his mom said, heading for a store with a blue facade and red shutters around the second floor windows.
“Guys, I don’t need anything.”
They ignored him and walked into the store.
Alex went into the bakery next door and got them each a hot chocolate.
By the time he came back out, Mitch and his mom were waiting for him on the sidewalk.
Mitch grinned proudly and held up a light gray, vintage T-shirt with a distressed American flag across the chest.
“Get it?” Mitch said. “It’s ironic. Because you’re Canadian.”
It was really very sweet.